"There was a theatre open. Not being a Samaritan myself, though as strict as anyone as to my own regular religious diversions at church, I let Mr. Hackson take myself and Lavinia to see _The Clogs of Cornwall_, which, I think, was the name of the opera, though, as I hadn't a bill, and didn't understand one quarter of what they were saying--not but what I was annoyed by Lavvy and Mr. Hackson always turning round to explain the jokes to me--I confess I did not see what either _Cornwall_ or _Clogs_ had to do with the story. The singing and the acting was worse than anything I'd ever met with at an English seaside theatre, because a place like Bullown ought to have a theatre as good as the one at Brighton. The customs worn by the actors were ugly, and when the lover, who was intended for a sailor--though his dress wasn't at all _de rigger_--said, confidentially, to the audience, alluding to an unfortunately plain young person who played the part of the Herring, "She is lovely!" there was a loud laugh, or, as Mr. Hackson, who speaks French perfectly, called it, a _levy de reedo_, all over the house, and this emulating from people who, I always thought, were remarkable for their politeness, was about the rudest thing I ever heard done to a public character in a playhouse. "The place was hot, and the seats uncomfortable; so that after two acts, which was more like being in a penitentiary than a place of recrimination, we left, and went to our hotel, where, there being nothing more to do than there was anywhere else, Lavinia and myself retired to rest--that is, such rest as the musketeers would allow us. She slept in a back cupboard, called a _cabinet de Twilight_, because it was so dark and scarcely any veneration, there being no fireplace, and only such a window, as it was healthier to keep shut than open: but she had the advantage over me in not being troubled by any musketeers. There was only one of them in my room, and when I heard him singing away like a couple of gnats, I hid under the bedclothes, and he couldn't find me till I came up again for air, like a fish, and then he bit me on the forehead. "Next morning we went to breakfast '_à la four sheets_' they call it, on account of the size of the table-napkins, at the _Rest-wrongs_ on the pier. The time they kept us! as there was only one _gossoon_ to about twenty persons. The best thing we had there was our own appetite, which we brought with us. "After this there was nothing doing in the place till dinner-time (called _table doat_ because they're so fond of it), and after that there was a dull concert at the _Establishmong_, and as Mr. Hackson told us, who went there, a dull dance and poor fireworks at the Artillery Gardens in the _Oat Veal_. The '_Oat Veal_' is French for the high part of the town, but, judging from the smells on and about the Key, I should say that our hotel was situated in quite the highest part of the town.