When sum werry ellerkent gent was a makin a speach as was rayther too
long for them as wanted to heer the lovely Welch mewsic, they began
for to hammer on the table with our bewtifool silver spoons and
reel cut glasses, meaning to say, "That's about enuff," but the pore
delewded Horrator thort it meant, "Keep it up, my boy; it's splendid!"
So he kep it up till two of our best glasses was broke, and then he
kindly sat down looking the werry pictur of happiness. It reminded
me of a simlar little delushun as we practises early in the year.
"Waiter," says sum hungry Gent, "bring me sum more Whitebait," and I
takes him sum more Sprats, and he is quite content! As our Grate Poet
says, "Where hignorance makes you 'appy, remane as you are"! Upon the
whole, I wentures to think as the Welch Nashnal Bankwet, given by Lord
Mare EVANS, was about the most sucksessful as I have ewer assisted
at during my menny years of such pleasant xperiences. I finishes by
saying, I should werry much like to see a reel Irish Lord Mare try his
hand in the same Nashnal way.

ROBERT.

* * * * *

A TIP-TOP TIPSTER.

[In some spirited verses that appeared in the _Sportsman_, on
the morning of Derby Day, Mr. JOHN TREW-HAY, alone amongst the
prophets, selected _Sir Hugo_ as the winner.]

Ye Gods, what a Prophet! We thought 'twas his fun,
For the horse that he picked stood at fifty to one,
And we all felt inclined in our pride to say, "You go