I hope my readers will not think I am writing of what I do not know when I say that London in August and September is quite as beautiful and entrancing as it is in the heart of the season. I have been for the last seven years constantly in the beloved city in those unfashionable months, and I unreservedly advise anyone in want of a real change to go up to town then. They will learn and see more then than at any other time; they will not be hurried; they will be able to see everything quietly, and will really see what they never can when the roads are crammed with carriages and the streets with people--_i.e._ how beautiful London is, and how many things she possesses we never dream of when we are simply rushing from occupation to amusement, and are only thinking of our work or pleasure. However, as I cannot expect all to believe me, or to share my enthusiasm for the streets and chimney-pots that I adore, I will simply now advise my readers how to proceed once they have made up their minds to go away. If possible they should let their own house; if not, they should endeavour always to keep to the same caretaker who should, if possible, be married to a policeman and have a dog, but no children; the furniture should be covered over, and ‘put to bed’ by the upholsterer, who understands how to prepare for possible moth and damp, and who will not make an exorbitant charge for what will, as a rule, prevent most of the things from being spoiled. Fires should be ordered, no matter what the weather may be, in rotation all through the house, for one that is uninhabited, and in which very little gas, if any, will be burned, always becomes damp in our climate; while it would be wise to have the gas cut off at the meter entirely. We should save a great deal of waste; and as caretakers are used to lamps in their own abodes, we should run no risk of fire, not as much as we do when we leave the gas for the use of those who often enough have never had any control over it on their own account, and so have not learned how to save it or even use it. No valuables should be left in the house; all should be sent to the bank; and we should naturally take our plate with us for use. But, having taken our house by the sea, we should in some measure know what it wants, and we should invariably have ornaments, photographs, &c., to take with us to brighten up the house and to make it home-like; while the children must take their story-books, work, and playthings. We must, in fact, prepare in every way we can for a rainy day; rain must fall, and if the children have their books and toys, and their own rooms, they will be as happy, and be no more of a nuisance by the sea than they are at home; at least, if they are, it will be the fault of the parents and not of the unfortunate children themselves.