And fled the spot.




THE PIC-NIC. No. I.


A merry holiday party, forming a tolerable boat-load, and well provided
with baskets of provisions, were rowing along the beautiful and
picturesque banks that fringe the river's side near Twickenham, eagerly
looking out for a spot where they might enjoy their "pic-nic" to
perfection.

"O! uncle, there's a romantic glade;--do let us land there!" exclaimed a
beautiful girl of eighteen summers, to a respectable old gentleman in a
broad brimmed beaver and spectacles.

"Just the thing, I declare," replied he--"the very spot--pull away, my
lads--but dear me" continued he, as they neared the intended
landing-place, "What have we here? What says the board?"

"PARTIES ARE NOT, ALLOWED TO
LAND AND DINE HERE"

Oh! oh! very well; then we'll only land here, and dine a little further
on"

"What a repulsive board"--cried the young lady--"I declare now I'm quite
vex'd"--