AY'S TOUR.

I.

_IN TOWN._

It is London, of a bright sultry August day, when the flags seem
scorching to the feet, and the sun beats down fiercely. It has yet a
certain inviting attraction. There is a general air of bustle, and the
provincial, trundled along in his cab, his trunks over his head, looks
out with a certain awe and sense of delight, noting, as he skirts the
Park, the gay colours glistening among the dusty trees, the figures
flitting past, the riders, the carriages, all suggesting a foreign
capital. The great city never looks so brilliant or so stately as on
one of these 'broiling' days. One calls up with a sort of wistfulness
the great and picturesque cities abroad, with their grand streets and
palaces, ever a delightful novelty. We long to be away, to be crossing
over that night--enjoying a cool fresh passage, all troubles and
monotony left behind.

On one such day this year--a Wednesday--these mixed impressions and
longings presented themselves with unwonted force and iteration. So
wistful and sudden a craving for snapping all ties and hurrying away
was after all spasmodic, perhaps whimsical; but it was quickened by
that sultry, melting air of the parks and the tropical look of the
streets. The pavements seemed to glare fiercely like furnaces; there
was an air of languid Eastern enjoyment. The very dogs 'snoozed'
pleasantly in shady corners, and all seemed happy as if enjoying a
holiday.

How delightful and enviable those families--the father, mother, and
fair daughters, now setting off gaily with their huge boxes--who
to-morrow would be beside the ever-delightful Rhine, posting on to
Cologne and Coblentz. What a welcome ring in those names! Stale,
hackneyed as it is, there comes a thrill as we get the first glimpse
of the silvery placid waters and their majestic windings. Even the
hotels, the bustle, and the people, holiday and festive, all seem
novel and gay. With some people this fairy look of things foreign
never 'stales,' even with repetition. It is as with the illusions of
the stage, which in some natures will triumph over the rudest,
coarsest shocks.

Well, that sweltering day stole by. The very cabmen on their 'stands'
nodded in blissful dreams. The motley colours in the Park--a stray
cardinal-coloured parasol or two added to the effect--glinted behind
the trees. The image of the happy tourists in the foreign streets grew
more vivid. The restlessness increased every hour, and w