reasonableness of it, like a sensible creature as he is!' Here she looked approvingly at her husband, who tried to smile a 'slow wise smile,' like Tennyson's 'wealthy miller,' but I fear the result was more remarkable for slowness than for wisdom.
I saw that it would be waste of words to argue the matter further, so took my leave, and did not see my old friends again before their departure for the sea-side. I quote the following from a letter which I received yesterday from Mrs. Nivers.
'Margate. April 1
'You know the old story of the dinner-party where there was nothing hot but the ices, and nothing cold but the soup? Of this place I may fairly say that there is nothing high but the prices, the staircases, and the eggs; nothing low but the sea and the company: nothing strong but the butter; and nothing weak but the tea!'
From the general tenour of her letter I gather that they are not enjoying it.