HullLo-there! 
    HullLo-there! 
  He’s the man for us;

    We respect him! 
    We’ll elect him! 
  And we might do wuss!!

In fact, our Candidate is very popular, and is sure to “romp in an easy winner”—­which is another puzzling racing expression, as, although I’ve seen plenty of horses indulge in a game of romps before the start (notably, L’Abbe Morin, in the “City"), they seem to have had more than enough of it before the finish!

I hear from Newmarket, that I missed an extremely pleasant week’s racing—­and although my selection for the Stud Produce Stakes was rather wide of the mark, I fairly hit the bullseye—­(what a painful operation this must be for the bull)—­in my one “Song from the Birdcage,” which I warbled in the ear of a racing friend whom I met down here; it was a propos of the July Stakes and ran thus:—­

  The night was dark when “Portland Bill” escaped by Chesil Beach! 
  And hope beat high within his heart, that he the goal might reach! 
  For “Milford” Haven lies in sight!—­one effort and he’s there! 
  But see!—­At last—­he’s caught!—­he’s passed!—­just by the Judge’s
          Chair!

Which really remarkable prophecy was fully borne out by the race, in fact, so close a description might almost have been written after the race—­a great compliment to my powers of divination!

Next week takes us to Bibury and Stockbridge. and if this hot weather continues, the motto of the Club should be, “Dum vivo Bibere”—­or, freely translated—­“Half the soda, please!” The race to which I propose to give my attention is the Alington Plate, and as I am nothing if not thorough, you will see that my tip is influenced by my being at the Seaside?

Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.

ALINGTON PLATE SELECTION.

  The storm was raging through the night,
    I tossed upon my pillow,
  And pitied any luckless wight
    Who tossed upon the “Billow!”

* * * * *

A SLIGHT MUDDLE.—­“I hear,” said Mrs. R., “that the Cassocks are performing at the Buffalo Bill place—­though not knowing the gentleman personally, I would prefer calling him BUFFALO WILLIAM or WILLIAM BUFFELLOW, which would be a less outlandish name—­and I confess I was astonished, as I always thought that Cassocks were Clergymen, or had something to do with the Clergy.  I suppose I had connected them with Hassocks, which are always in Church, and were, I believe, invented by Mr. HASSOCK, or Squire HASSOCK, who made all his money by keeping a gate on the old Brighton Coach Road.  The station is still called Hassock’s Gate, in his memory.  HER MAJESTY had all the Cassocks sent down to her at Windsor.  They must have been quite worn out by the end of the day.”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  ELECTION FEVER.  A CANDIDATE’S DREAM.]