exchanging his greatness for the nothingness of London, and, save going up
occasionally to see about opening the flood-gates of his fortune, he spent
nearly the whole summer at Laverick Wells. A fine season it was, too--the
finest season the Wells had ever known. When at length the long London
season closed, there was a rush of rank and fashion to the English
watering-places, quite unparalleled in the 'recollection of the oldest
inhabitants.' There were blooming widows in every stage of grief and woe,
from the becoming cap to the fashionable corset and ball flounce--widows
who would never forget the dear deceased, or think of any other
man--_unless he had at least five thousand a year_. Lovely girls, who
didn't care a farthing if the man was 'only handsome'; and smiling mammas
'egging them on,' who would look very different when they came to the
horrid £ s. d. And this mercantile expression leads us to the observation
that we know nothing so dissimilar as a trading town and a watering-place.
In the one, all is bustle, hurry, and activity; in the other, people don't
seem to know what to do to get through the day. The city and west-end
present somewhat of the contrast, but not to the extent of manufacturing or
sea-port towns and watering-places. Bathing-places are a shade better than
watering-places in the way of occupation, for people can sit staring at the
sea, counting the ships, or polishing their nails with a shell, whereas at
watering-places, they have generally little to do but stare at and talk of
each other, and mark the progress of the day, by alternately drinking at
the wells, eating at the hotels, and wandering between the library and the
railway station. The ladies get on better, for where there are ladies there
are always fine shops, and what between turning over the goods, and
sweeping the streets with their trains, making calls, and arranging
partners for balls, they get through their time very pleasantly; but what
is 'life' to them is often death to the men.