not even admit of a cot in the cheapest of seaside inns.

Gentle reader! shrink not from me when, in addition to this melancholy
confidence, I also announce to you that I live in town--in 'Boston
town,' to be accurate--during August! I belong to the 'lower orders of
society;' and my only Newport is the Public Garden, or a walk to
Longwood, and, when I am _very_ affluent, a horse-car drive to Savin
hill, where a teaspoonful of sea view is administered to the humble
wayfarer.

Yes! I positively did exist in the city, not only through the month of
August, but all the summer days of all the summer months. I mention
_August_ in the city, because I know that has a peculiarly God-forgotten
and forsaken sound.

I should soon cease to exist anywhere, I fancy, if I did _not_ stay in
town, for (horror No. 2!) I work at a trade in order to earn my daily
bread and coffee! What my particular trade is, I am not going to
divulge--that shall remain a delicious mystery (the only delicious thing
about it); only this much I will confide: I do not, _a la_ Mr. Frederick
Altamont, 'sweep the crossing.' Unhappy Altamont! he did not appreciate
the sweet security of streets.

'Poor thing!' you exclaim, 'work at a trade?'

Rest tranquil, fair one; the phrase doubtless sounds harshly to your
delicate, aristocratic ears. (Oh, what lovely earrings!) Be tranquil! I
do not work _very_ hard; my hands are perhaps so audacious as to be as
small, as white, and as soft as your own.

But I have to 'work reg'lar,' every week day of all the months of every
year; and when the time arrives for me to go into the country, I shall
not return again to Boston; for I shall go to a land from whence no
traveller returns. _Apropos_ of this rather dismal topic: A queer cousin
of mine, 'Sans Souci,' who has a taste for 'morbid anatomy,' was the
other day enjoying himself with Mr. Smith, the cheerful sexton of the
King's Chapel. These two were 'down among the dead men,' under the
church, when Mr. Smith apologized for leaving my cousin, on the plea
that he had a previous engagement to take a young gentleman into the
country--a delicate way of stating that he was about to convey a body
out to Mount Auburn!

Some fine day, I too shall take a drive with some Mr. Smith--not, of
course, _the_ S. C. Smith, for, as I have mentioned, 'I' belong to the
'lower orders.'

Now let me tell you of _my_ Newport, and of what mitigations there are
for the poor wretches who pass the