ery time. He tosses up a penny on the little table, and
covers it with my hat. "Which do I think it is?" I say heads--to please
him. Again. "Now, Sir, heads or tails?" I happen to have seen it fall
head uppermost--but no doubt he has manipulated it some way--if I say
tails, he will look rather foolish. Tails, then. Will I lift my hat? I
do--a _guinea-pig!_ Renewed roars. I ought to be above feeling annoyed
at this tomfoolery--but these conjuring fellows go too far.

_Evening,_--On Pier. Military Band. Bazaar: ladies and children touting
for it. Wonder whether my "Firmness" is as large as Professor SKITTLES
declared.--Because I certainly never _intended_ to buy a box of
cracker-bonbons, or a basket of ripe tomatoes--and yet here I am,
carrying them about! And when I took a ticket for a raffle, I hardly
counted upon winning this particularly gaudy sofa-cushion. Clergyman
wants to sell me a very small plumcake, only three shillings.... I find
I _can_ be firm after all.

The girl with the brown eyes is on the pier, too, with a stout
respectable old female--probably her maid. I think they recognise me as
the victim of Phrenology; they glance at me with interest. Ah me! I
wish--I wish, but what is the use of wishing?

In the Bazaar again. Young lady proposes to tell me my fortune for a
penny, with a revolving card. I am in a superstitious mood--I want
encouraging. She spins the card; the dial indicates, as she informs me,
with unnecessary glee, "You spend your time in trifles."--Is a Nautical
Drama a "trifle," I should like to know? I can't be quite the thing, for
this incident affects me almost to tears. I have had a depressing day.
Bed in low spirits.

* * * * *

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***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL.
93, SEPTEMBER 24, 1887***

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