I take it for granted that all special “charities” have had their origin in some specific suffering. At least, I can aver that my first thought on landing at Ostend was, “Why has no great philanthropist thought of establishing such an institution as a Refuge for the Sea-sick?” I declare this publicly, that if I ever become rich,--a consummation which, looking to the general gentleness of my instincts, the wide benevolence of my nature, and the kindliness of my temperament, mankind might well rejoice at,--if, I repeat, I ever become rich, one of the first uses of my affluence will be to endow such an establishment. I will place it in some one of our popular ports, say Southampton. Surrounded with all the charms of inland scenery, rich in every rustic association, the patient shall never be reminded of the scene of his late sufferings. A velvety turf to stroll on, with a leafy shade above his-head, the mellow lowing of cattle in his ears, and the fragrant odors of meadow-sweet and hawthorn around, I would recall the sufferer from the dread memories of the slippery deck, the sea-washed stairs, or the sleepy state-room. For the rattle of cordage, and the hoarse trumpet of the skipper, I would substitute the song of the thrush or the blackbird; and, instead of the thrice odious steward and his basin, I would have trim maidens of pleasing aspect to serve him with syllabubs. I will not go on to say the hundred device» I would employ to cheat memory out of a gloomy record, for I treasure the hope that I may yet live to carry out my theory, and have a copyright in my invention. It was with sentiments deeply tinctured by the above that I tottered, rather than walked, towards the “Hôtel Royal.” It was a bright moonlight night, and, as if in mockery of the weather outside, as still and calm as might be. Many a picturesque effect of light and shade met me as I went: quaint old gables flaring in a strong flood of moonlight, showed outlines the strangest and oddest; twinkling lamps shone out of tall, dark-sided, old houses, from which strains of music came plaintively enough in the night air; the sounds of a prolonged revel rose loudly out of that deep-pillared chateau-like building in the Place, and in the quiet alley adjoining, I could catch the low song of a mother as she tried to sing her baby to sleep. It was all human in every touch and strain of it And did I not drink it in with rapture? Was it not in a transport of gratitude that I thanked Fortune for once again restoring me to land? “O Earth, Earth!” says the Greek poet, “how art thou interwoven with that nature that first came from thee!” Thus musing, I reached the inn, where, though the hour was a late one, the household was all active and astir. “Many passengers arrived, waiter?” said I, in the easy, careless voice of one who would not own to sea-sickness. “Very few, sir; the severe weather has deterred several from venturing across.” “Any ladies?”