this three times), "Mainsale," said they,
"you're a trump."

From such men as these, such a word
—a compliment, I was going to write, but
they are not the men to pay compliments—
was not without its meaning. It told me,
that as Vice-Commodore of the Harmouth,
Brinscombe, and South Coast Yacht Club, I
had performed all that had been expected of
rne. I felt a flush come over me when
I heard it, and a lightness in my head. And
I cut my cable, and got into blue water at
once with my first toast, which was of course,
Her most gracious Majesty.

The great room of the Mast and Cockle at
Harmouth presented an impressive sight that
evening, sir. (You must excuse my writing
"sir," but the fact is, I can't get it out of
my head that our grand old commodore
is still sitting opposite to me, though
too ill to give the toasts). There was a
matter of one and twenty flags arranged
around the walls of that apartment, if there
was one, sir. There was a picture almost as
large as life, of the Can't-I-go-Nimble cutter
yacht of Brinscombe, over my head. The
servants were, a good many of them, out of
private vessels; and I observed them towards
the middle of the evening, when they brought
in the punch, either from the humour of the
thing, or from habit, lurching and swaying as
though they were on board ship with a gale
on. There was an. amazing number of
servants, certainly, for I could not count them.
There was also a band of wind instruments,
and a company of glee-singers, making six in
all; and this I know for certain, because I
had to pay for them. Mr. Boniface supplied
the dinner and wines in his usual excellent
—but there, I find I am quoting from the
local journal, instead of trusting to my memory.
I have a particularly good memory.
I distinctly remember everything that
occurred that evening at the Mast and
Cockle. Why should I not remember? My
belief is, that there was not nearly so
much wine drunk upon that occasion as was
charged for. Where was I? Oh! Her Majesty,
Queen Victoria. It must have been a
pretty good speech that of mine, because they
cheered so.

"His Royal Highness the Prince Consort,
His Royal Highness Albert, Prince of Wales,
and the rest of the Royal Family," was another
of my hits. I said that Prince Albert kept a
yacht himself, and was as thorough going a
yacht's-man as I was myself almost. Then I
gave the "Navy and the Army"; reverting
briefly to the Crimea, touching upon China,
and sailing right a-head into "the vast ocean
of Indian affairs" (my very words). After
the first quarter of an hour somebody cried
"Question! " but I replied very promptly that
India was question, the question, and nothing
but the question, and let that man look to it
who should speak lightly upon so terrible a
matter. Then I sat down amidst tumultuous
cheering. Nothing is like a little opposition
for making a man popular. The next toast
was "Prosperity to the Harmouth, Brinscombe,
and South Coast Yacht Club"
the toast of the evening. I had got myself
up for this effort with considerable care,
and, favoured the company with a history
of the gradual development of our naval
marine, from the times of the early British
coracle to those of the present Liverpool
clippers. The interest of this must have been
absorbing, for the whole treatise was listened
to in unbroken silence from end to end. Then
the commodore, fine old straightforward
fellow who says what he means, proposed my
own health in terms such as my sense of personal
unworthiness prevents me from repeating.
He observed, however, (I may state,)
that my name had been made known—
through the medium of my large yachting
acquaintance, I suppose—in Europe, Asia,
Africa, America, and Australasia; that I had
held numerous distinguished offices and was
in point of fact, at that very moment, town
clerk of Harmouth (Cheers). Alderman of
Harmouth (Increased cheering). Mayor of
Harmouth (Tremendous cheering), and
Vice-Commodore of the Harmouth, Brinscombe,
and South Coast Yacht Club. (A perfect
tempest of cheers followed this entirely unexpected
announcement.) My feelings had
become by this time so worked upon, that,
although I had been taking wine with everybody
at table, I felt totally unequal to reply
in so classical a manner as I could have
wished, and indeed in the terms which I had
very studiously composed for the occasion.
I said, however, that all yacht's-men were my
brothers, but that the H.B.S.C.Y.C. seemed
to be my brothers and my sisters also. That
I myself looked upon every one of them with
the feelings of a mother. I was then obliged
to delay for sobs which choked my utterance.
I endeavoured to recite to them the first
chapter of a naval novel which I am about
to bring out (very likely in this periodical),
but could get no further than the first
half-dozen words:

"When I was in my bark off the Bight of
Benin——"

Mr. Jib Boom then kindly took my place,
I believe. This is only a rough sketch, a
feeble outline, of what really happened; but,
to give you an idea of the extreme naturalness
of the whole thing, and the way in
which I identified myself with the characteristic
festivities of the evening, I was
positively ill—ill in the same manner as
I am wont to be affected upon a marine excursion,
and with precisely similar symptoms.

The other small club to which I have the
happiness of belonging, is of a very different
character. You could never recognise, I
flatter myself, the sedate deputy-grand of
the Harmouth and Brinscombe, Brinscombe
and Harmouth, Bricklayers' Lodge in the
rollicking vice-commodore of the Harmouth