sy night. But the day of parting was at
hand; the last amusement of the time was a match made between Captain
Lyon and a Mr. Davey, of London, to sail their respective yachts,
the Queen Mab and the Don Giovanni, upon the challenge of the last
mentioned, a stipulated distance, for a sum of two hundred guineas--an
affair which did not, to use a sporting phrase, _come off well_, for
the Don most ungallantly refused to meet his fair opponent; and being
wofully depressed in spirits, either from apprehension of defeat, or sea
sickness, or some such fresh water fears, the little Queen was compelled
to sail over the course alone to claim the reward of her victory.

And now the sports of the season being brought to a conclusion, and
the rough note of old Boreas and the angry groanings of Father Neptune
giving token of approaching storms, I bade farewell to Vectis, my
~179~~friend Horace transporting me in his yacht to Southampton Water.
Reader, if I should appear somewhat prolix in my descriptions, take a
tour yourself to the island, visit the delightful scenery with which it
abounds, participate in the aquatic excursions of the place, and meet,
as I have done, with social friends, and kind hearts, and lovely forms,
and your own delightful feelings will be my excuse for extending my
notice somewhat beyond my usual sketchy style.

FAREWELL TO VECTIS.

Blest isle, fare thee well! land of pleasure and peace,
May the beaux and the belles on thy shores still increase:
How oft shall my spirit, by absence opprest,
Revisit thy scenes, and in fancy be blest,
In the magic of slumber still sport on thy wave,
And dream of delights that I waken to crave.
Farewell, merry hearts! fare ye well, social friends!
Adieu! see the Rover her canvas unbends;
Land of all that is lovely for painting or verse,
Farewell! ere in distance thy beauties disperse,
Now Calshot is passed, now receding from view,
Once more, happy Vectis, a long, last adieu.

[Illustration: page179]

PORTSMOUTH IN TIME OF PEACE.

~180~~

Where now are the frolicsome care-killing souls,
With their girls and their fiddlers, their dances and bowls?
Where now are the blue jackets, once on our shore
The promoters of merriment, spending their store?
Where now are our tars in these dull piping times?