CHAPTER II.
"To one who has been long in City pent,
Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven,—to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue firmament."—Keats.
There are certain times and seasons when the mind, so dependent on a healthy state of the body for a vigorous development, worn out by constant toil and anxiety, becomes thoroughly unstrung, and unless a change of scene and companions can be at once obtained, it soon becomes impaired, and sooner or later the consequences are seen in one of the many tedious nervous diseases unfortunately so prevalent in this country. A change into the interior is scarcely likely to prove as beneficial to the man of sedentary habits as a run by the sea, where the "stormy winds do blow," and where the long lost appetite quickly returns, and the mental faculties resume their wonted spirit and energy.
We write from experience, for rendered irritable by long confinement, and as a climax, the intense heat of the anniversary of the well-remembered Black-Thursday, when the inhabitants of our tank, one after another, were found lying, not "scentless" certainly, but "dead," and the numerous fresh-water Algæ, so carefully preserved, each in its separate bottle on our mantel piece, waiting until we had leisure to investigate them, had withered, we hastily packed up a few choice books, a good supply of glass sample bottles,
