pretty woman, Mrs. Captain Waters, is she not, Cymon?' inquired
Miss Charlotta.

A glow of nervous excitement passed over the countenance of Mr. Cymon
Tuggs, as he replied, 'An angel of beauty!'

'Hallo!' said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. 'Hallo, Cymon, my boy, take care.
Married lady, you know;' and he winked one of his twinkling eyes
knowingly.

'Why,' exclaimed Cymon, starting up with an ebullition of fury, as
unexpected as alarming, 'why am I to be reminded of that blight of my
happiness, and ruin of my hopes? Why am I to be taunted with the
miseries which are heaped upon my head? Is it not enough to--to--to--'
and the orator paused; but whether for want of words, or lack of breath,
was never distinctly ascertained.

There was an impressive solemnity in the tone of this address, and in the
air with which the romantic Cymon, at its conclusion, rang the bell, and
demanded a flat candlestick, which effectually forbade a reply. He
stalked dramatically to bed, and the Tuggses went to bed too, half an
hour afterwards, in a state of considerable mystification and perplexity.

If the pier had presented a scene of life and bustle to the Tuggses on
their first landing at Ramsgate, it was far surpassed by the appearance
of the sands on the morning after their arrival. It was a fine, bright,
clear day, with a light breeze from the sea. There were the same ladies
and gentlemen, the same children, the same nursemaids, the same
telescopes, the same portable chairs. The ladies were employed in
needlework, or watch-guard making, or knitting, or reading novels; the
gentlemen were reading newspapers and magazines; the children were
digging holes in the sand with wooden spades, and collecting water
therein; the nursemaids, with their youngest charges in their arms, were
running in after the waves, and then running back with the waves after
them; and, now and then, a little sailing-boat either departed with a gay
and talkative cargo of passengers, or returned with a very silent and
particularly uncomfortable-looking one.

'Well, I never!' exclaimed Mrs. Tuggs, as she and Mr. Joseph Tuggs, and
Miss Charlotta Tuggs, and Mr. Cymon Tuggs, with their eight feet in a
corresponding number of yellow shoes, seated themselves on four
rush-bottomed chairs, which, being placed in a soft part of the sand,
forthwith sunk down some two feet and a half--'Well, I never!'

Mr. Cymon, by an exertion of great personal strength, uprooted the
chairs, an