"VARIETY," as Cowper says, "is the very spice of life"—and certainly, at Margate, there is enough, in all conscience, to delight the most fastidious of pleasure-hunters.

There sailors ply for passengers for a trip in their pleasure boats, setting forth all the tempting delights of a fine breeze—and woe-betide the unfortunate cockney who gets in the clutches of a pair of plyers of this sort, for he becomes as fixed as if he were actually in a vice, frequently making a virtue of necessity, and stepping on board, when he had much better stroll on land.

Away he goes, on the wings of the wind, like—a gull! Should he be a knave, it may probably be of infinite service to society, for he is likely ever afterwards to forswear craft of any kind!

Donkies too abound, as they do in most watering placesand, oh! what a many asses have we seen mounted, trotting along the beach and cliffs!

The insinuating address of the boatmen is, however, irresistible; and if they cannot induce you to make a sail to catch the wind, they will set forth, in all the glowing colors of a dying dolphin, the pleasurable sport of catching fish!

They tell you of a gentleman, who, "the other day, pulled up, in a single hour, I don't know how many fish, weighing I don't know how much." And thus baited, some unwise gentleman unfortunately nibbles, and he is caught. A bargain is struck, 'the boat is on the shore,' the lines and hooks are displayed, and the victim steps in, scarcely conscious of what he is about, but full well knowing that he is going to sea!

They put out to sea, and casting their baited hooks, the experienced fisherman soon pulls up a fine lively whiting.

"Ecod!" exclaims the cockney, with dilated optics, "this is fine—why that 'ere fish is worth a matter of a shilling in London—Do tell me how you cotched him."

"With a hook!" replied the boatman.

"To be sure you did—but why did'nt he bite mine?"

"'Cause he came t'other side, I s'pose."

"Vell, let me try that side then," cries the tyro, and carefully changes his position.—"Dear me, this here boat o'yourn wobbles about rayther, mister."

"Nothing, sir, at all; it's only the motion of the water."

"I don't like it, tho'; I can tell you, it makes me feel all over somehow."

"It will go off, sir, in time; there's another," and he pulls in another wriggling fish, and casts him at the bottom of the boat. "Well, that's plaguey tiresome, any how—two! and I've cotched nothin' yet—how do you do it?"

"Just so—throw in your hook, and bide a bit—and you'll be sure, sir, to feel when there's any thing on your hook; don't you feel any thing yet?"

"Why, yes, I feels werry unwell!" cries the landsman; and, bringing up his hook and bait, requests the good-natured boatman to pull for shore, 'like vinkin,'—which request; the obliging fellow immediately complies with, having agreeably fished at the expense of his fare; and, landing his whitings and the flat, laughs in his sleeve at the qualms of his customer.

But there is always an abundant crop of such fools as he, who pretend to dabble in a science, in utter ignorance of the elements; while, like Jason of old, the wily boatman finds a sheep with a golden fleece,— although his brains are always too much on the alert to be what is technically termed—wool-gathering. Some people are desirous of seeing every thing; and many landsmen have yet to learn, that they may see a deal, without being a-board!