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362 would take counsel as to the best method of utilising them for the common benefit. It was, however, clear that yet more definite results would follow, if the Committee would investigate in a philosophical spirit—the origin, rise, and progress of the British Matron. What of Boarding Schools for Young Ladies? Surely that was a subject of sufficient importance to deserve the most anxious investigation. The Chairman, Mr. Brown, was of opinion that if the suggestion received the approval of the Members, it would be well if he and another Member of the Committee were at once to betake themselves to Helmston, as it was a well-ascertained fact that that delightful watering-place was the chosen training-ground, where not only the thews and sinews of the future British Matron were strung and knitted for the impending struggle—but there it was that at the Finishing School she received the last instructions from the ablest Professors of the science of husband-taming. The undertaking was surrounded with difficulties; for how was the deputation to gain access to these establishments, guarded as they were by the vigilance of the sternest and most experienced Duennas in the civilised world? Should Mr. ,—the only Member of the Committee, besides the Chairman, who at this moment could effect his escape from the conjugal domicile—be instructed to apply for the situation of at one of these institutions? He was a small, whiskerless husband, of boyish appearance, although at bottom a very sad dog. Should Mr. who, on the other hand, was a gentleman of the most fatherly and portly appearance, present himself boldly before the Principals, alleging that three nieces had been consigned to his charge, from Australia or British India, with instructions to place them in some establishment where their tastes would be cultivated and refined—their minds disciplined in those useful arts which con­stitute the stock of female education in this country—but, above all, where scholastic training was combined with the comforts of a home? Every member had his suggestion—and these suggestions were so numerous and so various that the G. C.’s were at last driven to the conclusion that all points of detail must be left to the direction of the two gentlemen who had undertaken this anxious duty, when present on the spot.

These matters being settled there was a rising—and a shuffling. The members stood round in a circle with their pipes in their mouths, and made a miserable intonement in grand chorus of the old song of “Sweet Home”—but when they came to the famous passage of—

Through pleasures and palaces, where’er we may roam,

Yet go where we can, there is no place like ”

how they did wink at each other to be sure. The curtain falls for awhile. The famous G. C. Club is but as the baseless fabric of a vision to the general world.

A breeze from the south-west incommoded the promenaders on either cliff in this romantic watering-place on the morning which followed the night on which had occurred the disgraceful orgies which we have feebly endeavoured to commemorate. From Tadmor Square to the Pie-House—from the Pie-House to Jones’s Drain, where the gusts were most tremendous—from Jones’s Drain to the Jetty—from the Jetty to the Blockade Station, the wind reigned supreme, and tyrannised over the drapery of the fair beings who were not to be deterred by the eventualities of an untoward gust from gladdening the hearts of the human race by the brightness of their presence. What fascinating Spanish hats secured by veils dexterously tucked under dainty chins! What suggestions from Balmorals surmounted by petticoats of brilliant red! How the fair creatures were flattened one way as they walked east, and another as they struggled west! How the unprincipled boatmen endeavoured to decoy the visitors into their nauseating craft, under the wicked pretext that now or never was the time for a sail! How squadrons of long-suffering horses trotted up and down, mounted by angelic beings of every age, and—may I say?—volume! How solemn and reserved was the aspect of the riding-masters, careful of their important charge! How the young gentlemen jogged each other as they fought their way along the Esplanade, and exchanged jokes with reference to the various members of the angel-interest whom they passed as they were were clutching hold of their Mandarin hats! How sailors carried huge cod-fish about with their fingers in the gills—and how the stout nurses thrust the perambulators, heavy with babies, over the corns of testy old gentlemen, who did not keep their tempers! What a pleasant day it was at Helmston!

Such incidents are common to many watering-places; but about Helmston there is one peculiarity. Just as you see gangs of seafaring men about Portsmouth or Plymouth—or long columns of gloomy, unwholesome-looking youths in black costume, threading their way like files of black beetles about the streets of Rome—or groups of artillery men at Chatham—in the same way the distinctive feature of Helmston at certain hours of the day is the solemn promenade of the “Boarding Schools for Young Ladies.” How confidentially the taller and more charming creatures in front of these flying columns are conversing together! How the middling-sized ones gabble! How the smaller and youngest recruits appear to be poking fun at the passers by! How the two governesses behind—one probably a French lady (accompanied by a more favoured parlour-boarder, who seems old enough and imposing enough to have an affair of the heart upon her hands already)—cast glances of mild reproof at the horrid Light Dragoons, who allow their incendiary glances to fall for a moment upon their timid flock! How strong they are in their weakness—and what a lot they always seem to have to talk about! Are the Doves pecking at a poor Assistant Governess?—or indulging in rosy dreams of the Future—when more permanent dolls are delivered over to their mercies? It is difficult to found any theory upon such scraps of conversation as a hasty man can pick up, with all his ingenuity. Stand