I must say that I think Bisley has a more business-like look than Wimbledon ever had, though perhaps this is scarcely to the taste of the average feminine visitor, who used to enjoy pic-nicing to the accompaniment of whizzing bullets, and does not appreciate the latter without the former.  The shooting was very uncertain in the first stage of the Queen’s, as the wind was in a variable mood—­(is the wind feminine, I wonder?)—­going sometimes at eighteen and sometimes at thirty miles an hour, which was disconcerting and inconsiderate behaviour (it must be feminine!)—­calculated to annoy any right-minded Volunteer!  Indeed, one notoriously good shot, Private CHICKEN, although a good plucked one—­having made six misses in ten shots—­declined to be roasted by his friends, and retired into his casserole—­which is French for tent, I believe—­while several other marksmen (why marksmen?) found themselves carefully placing their bullets on other people’s targets.

However, I was much struck with the equanimity with which reverses were accepted by the members of our gallant Amateur Army, and intend composing an ode in their honour, to be sung in camp to the accompaniment of bullets, bagpipes, and brass bands! (more alliteration for the Midlothian Maltese Marriage Merchant), the refrain of which will run thus:—­

The Volunteer!  The Volunteer!! 
No matter how the wind may veer! 
Will have no fear! and will not sweer! so do not jeer!!! the
Volunteer!!!”

—­appropriate patriotic music to which will be written by Signor CLEMENTI SCHIOTTI!

There is no racing of any importance this week, there being only a small Meeting under Pic Nic Rules, at a place called Goodwood—­(I write of it in this contemptuous way, as I am not going myself)—­somewhere on the coast of the Solent—­to which I need not allude at any length; I will, therefore, only mention one race having been so successful lately, that I can afford to rest on my oars—­(rather an insecure position by the way, for anyone who can’t swim!) and remain as usual

Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.

CHESTERFIELD CUP SELECTION.

  To win such a race as the Chesterfield Cup,
    Is a task wanting speed and endurance;
  And the duty of all, ere the ghost giving up,
    Is to quickly effect an Insurance.”

P.S.—­I don’t see any sense in this, but the rhyme is good!

L.G.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  UNPLEASANT DUTIES OF CLUB LIFE.

MONSIEUR VICTOR ACHILLE PETROLY, THE NEW CHEF, IS SUDDENLY SUMMONED
BEFORE THE COMMITTEE TO RECEIVE A REPRIMAND.

THE QUESTION IS, WHO’S TO ADMINISTER IT?]

* * * * *

WILLIAM THE WHEELMAN.

Enthusiastic Cyclist loquitur:—­