In the first place what is a “lightship?” As I travelled down to Henley I read in one of the newspapers that “practice for the Royal Regatta was now in full swing, and that the river was dotted with lightships of every description.”  I remember some years ago passing a very pleasant half hour on board of a lightship moored in the neighbourhood of Broadstairs.  The rum was excellent.  I looked forward with a lively pleasure to repeating the experience at Henley.  As soon as I arrived, therefore, I put on my yachting cap (white, with a gold anchor embroidered in front), hired a boat and a small boy, and directed him to row me immediately to one of the lightships.  I spent at least two hours on the river in company with that boy—­a very impudent little fellow,—­but owing no doubt to his stupidity, I failed to find a single vessel which could be fairly described as a lightship.  Finally the boy said they had all been sunk in yesterday’s great storm, and with that inadequate explanation I was forced to content myself.  But there is a mystery about this.  Please explain it.

Secondly, I see placards and advertisements all over the place announcing that “the Stewards Stand.”  Now this fairly beats me.  Why should the stewards stand?  They are presumably men of a certain age, some of them must be of a certain corpulence, and it seems to me a refinement of cruelty that these faithful officials, of whom, I believe, the respected Mayor of Henley is one, should be compelled to refrain from seats during the whole of the Regatta.  It may be necessary for them to set an example of true British endurance to the crowds who attend the Regatta, but in that case surely they ought to be paid for the performance of their duties.

Thirdly, I have heard a good deal of talk about the Visitors’ Cup.  Being anxious to test its merits, I went to one of the principal hotels here, and ordered the waiter to bring me a quart of Visitors’ Cup, and to be careful to ice it well.  He seemed puzzled, but went away to execute my orders.  After an absence of ten minutes he returned, and informed me, with the Manager’s compliments, that they could not provide me with what I wanted, but that their Champagne-cup was excellent.  I gave the fellow a look, and departed.  Perhaps this is only another example of the asinine and anserous dunderheadedness of these crass provincials.  Kindly reply, by wire, about all the three points I have mentioned.

I have been here for a week, but have, as yet, not been fortunate enough to see any crews.  Indeed, I doubt if there are any here.  A good many maniacs disport themselves every day in rickety things which look something like gigantic needles, and other people have been riding along the bank, and, very naturally, abusing them loudly for their foolhardy recklessness.  But no amount of abuse causes them to desist.  I have puzzled my brains to know what it all means, but I confess I can’t make it out.  I fancy I know a boat when I see one, and of course these ridiculous affairs can’t be boats.