As we are constantly meeting him about, I appeal to him privately to brighten up a little. He is much affected, says I must make some allowance for his position, and implores me not to forbid him LOUISE'S society altogether. He will make an effort to be gayer in the future, he promises me, the mask shall only be dropped in private. After all, he is ALF'S friend, and an especial favourite of the Aunt's. If he does not recognise the propriety of going, I can't send him away--we must see something of him. I should be sorry for him myself--if only he were not such an underbred beast! [Illustration: "Thou counterfeit'st a bark." Shakspeare.] There is certainly a decided alteration in PONKING; he now affects the most rollicking high spirits--though why he should find it necessary to dissemble his grief by playing the fool all over the sands is more than I can understand. But he grinds piano-organs, and goes round with the tambourine; receives penny galvanic shocks, and howls until he collects a crowd; has "larks" with the lovebirds which pick out fortunes, and chaffs all the Professors of Phrenology, choosing, as the head-quarters of his exploits, any place where Louise and I happen to be, to whom he returns, with roars of laughter, to tell us his "latest." Then he plays practical jokes on _me_, chalking things on my back, and putting sand down my neck. It is all very well for him to plead that he does these things "to hide an aching heart,"--but if he hides it in this way, he won't be able to find it again--that's all! I can see, too, it disgusts LOUISE, who bites her lips a good deal, although, she says, it is "quite a treat to see how Mr. PONKING is enjoying himself." I am afraid, for all that, that she thinks me a little too serious. Perhaps I am--I must prove to her that it is possible to rollick with refinement. But, somehow, I can never make her laugh as PONKING does. I very seldom have a quiet hour with her now; her brother has persuaded her that she ought "to see more of what's going on," and "do as others do." Her wishes, are, of course, paramount with me--although I cannot see the enjoyment of going to the open-air Music-Hall _quite_ so often, nor did I come here to play "penny nap," on the sands all the afternoon. If, too, LOUISE must speculate, she might "go nap" with more judgment, and I do strongly object to the ostentatious generosity with which PONKING throws away his best cards, rather than rob her of a trick--it is in the _worst_ taste, and yet I fear she is touched by it. In the evening several of us promenade the town arm in arm; PONKING has a banjo and ALF an accordion. LOUISE begs me to go, to see that ALF does not get into trouble--which may be necessary enough, but who will see that _I_ get into none?