hose places teeming with shop-keepers and children, when
you can scarcely see the beach so covered is it with those who are
making the most of their one holiday in the year.

There is the primitive little village, discovered by few, which is
welcomed by the city man who wants rest and entire seclusion from
business matters and the world for a month or two. And oh, what
language he uses! and how annoyed he is to find absolutely nothing to
do--one post a day, and, worst of all, no newspaper until late in the
afternoon! And this is the man who wishes to be shut out from the
world and from his acquaintances! There is no pier, there are no
amusements. The esplanade is composed of nothing more than a plank of
wood, on which, in walking you have to observe much caution in order
to keep your balance; and sometimes the butcher from the neighboring
village forgets to call! In desperation, the unfortunate creature digs
sand-castles with his children, and, after a few days of his
banishment, grows quite excited as the waves wash up and undermine
their foundations. He picks acquaintance with anybody he comes across,
be he peer or peasant--anything to make the time pass a little quicker
until he can return to the stir of his business life again.

Someone remarks somewhere that "a man works one-half of his life in
order that he may rest the other." I wonder if those who are
successful ever appreciate their rest when they get it! I wonder if it
comes up to their expectations! if the goal toward which they have
been looking almost since they began to exist is worth the trouble and
energy spent on it! Ah, I am afraid they very rarely find it so! They
have become so immured in their busy lives, that it is difficult to
grow accustomed to any other. Unless one is brought up to it, the
_Dolce far niente_ is not an existence we enjoy. We are made the wrong
way about somehow. We ought to be born old and gradually grow younger
as the years roll on. Still, I daresay there would be something to
complain of even then, and perhaps it would not be very dignified to
go off the stage as a baby!

To go to the opposite extreme, there are the fashionable water-places;
little Londons, or rather little imitations of London; for beside that
great capital itself they are like pieces of glass to a diamond. And
yet fashion and folly are all here, sunning themselves by the sea
instead of in the park; driving up and down in the same way, in
equally charming t