Some years ago, when the ex-duke came with his little court, weekly balls were given at his residence, as well as at the Casino.  But all these scenes of pleasure have now passed away.  The Grand-duke of Tuscany, the present possessor of Lucca, has at this moment weightier cares to occupy his attention than the summer amusements of a watering-place; the Casino, so long the opprobrium of the baths, is now closed—­it is to be hoped for ever; and the English Club, or Cercle de Reunion, though at present in every respect flourishing, has had too much experience of the ungracious office of giving evening parties, to be inclined to resume the attempt.

The diversions of Lucca during the last summer were judicially limited to rides and quiet tea-parties, and it may be said, that before eleven o’clock every social reunion breaks up.  About ten o’clock, in fact, the shawling processes commence; and servants are seen escorting home their padroni, holding lanterns carefully near the ground, to guard against the contingency of their stepping on the toads, which disport themselves in all the lanes at night, and are of the size of respectable tortoises.

Then gradually the lights in every window disappear, fewer and fewer voices are borne upon the breeze, and ere the midnight bell has tolled, all is darkness and repose.

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS OF A SAILOR’S LIFE AT SEA.

One of the visions of youth is, that the life of a sailor is all fun, frolic, and happiness.  Can there be anything more delightful, they think, than sailing about on the wide ocean, visiting far-distant regions of the earth, and seeing the strange manners of different countries?  Little are they aware of the constant toil to which the poor mariner is exposed—­the perils he encounters, the thankless life he is generally doomed to lead.  He is, in fact, compelled to endure pretty much the lot of a slave; for, as is well known, government on shipboard is a species of despotism, often a cruel tyranny.  Remonstrance in nearly every circumstance is in vain—­it is mutiny.  No matter how roughly orders are issued; they must be implicitly obeyed.  ‘D’ye murmur?  Hold your tongue, you rascal, or I’ll put you in irons!’ Such is not a particularly uncommon form of address to the sailor, who so far forgets his position as to even hint a difference of opinion.  Possibly, it is quite right, for the sake of discipline, and the safety of all concerned, that severity should be employed.  We merely note the circumstance.

In the very best conducted ships, however, there must necessarily be toils and trials of temper.  The most tormenting thing in a sailor’s profession, is the want of that regular alternation of work through the day, and repose through the night, which is enjoyed by ordinary mortals.  This is a matter on which so little is known, that we are induced to expatiate upon it.  Dear landsmen! would you like to know how idly and jovially a foremast Jack gets through his twenty-four hours at sea?  Listen; and when we have ‘said our say,’ envy poor Jack his romantic calling, and begrudge him his L.2, 10s. or L.3 per month, as much as you can find in your hearts.