The lodge beneath its radiance gleamed,— Into some curds there shot a ray; As if within the bowl it dreamed To find on earth the milky whey. Lured by the clearness of the sky, A party, though the hour was late, Resolved on ordering a fly, To waft them to the Chiswick _Fête_. And by those sympathetic chains Few can describe, but each one owns, The same idea had struck the Paynes, Brown, Thompson, Edwards, Smith, and Jones. Oh, sympathy! thou hast the power To make twelve hearts in concert throb; And eke to give, within one hour, Twelve different liv'rymen a job. Thus did thine influence extend (Explain it, ye who study physic); Making a lot of parties send For vehicles, to go to Chiswick. No sooner had they reached the spot, Than straight the sky is seen to lower; And, like a curious watering-pot, Pours down a most terrific shower. The _belles_ can't save their satin bows, Their silks are watered—how they scamper Fate on that _fête_ unkindly throws A sudden, but decisive damper. NOTES OF A CONTINENTAL TOUR, IN THE SUMMER OF 1844. BY SAMUEL SPOONER, ESQUIRE, FELLOW OF THE ROYAL HUMANE SOCIETY, &c., &c. Happening to be at Ramsgate in the summer of 1844, and being much out of spirits at the loss of 4_l._ 10_s._ in raffles, for which I had won a card-rack—my mind, by-the-bye, has been upon the rack ever since—I determined on availing myself of an opportunity to visit the Continent, which the starting of an excursion boat to Calais on the following day held out to me.