DEAR MR. PUNCH,--My dear friend, Lady HARRIET ENTOUCAS, said to me,
the other day at Kempton, when I told her to have a sovereign on
_Conifer_:--"My dear Lady GAY, your tips are so marvellous that I
really wonder you don't write to the papers!" Being struck with the
idea, my thoughts naturally flew to you--not only as the most gallant
Editor of my acquaintance, but also as probably the only one hitherto
unrepresented with a regular Turf Correspondent.
It is, therefore, with true feminine confidence that I place my
services at your disposal, and, my information being of the most
unreliable description (derived invariably from the owners), I feel
sure that those of your readers who follow my tips will have no cause
to regret their temerity, as, being like all women, nothing if not
original, I intend to tip, not the probable _winner_, but the probable
_last_ horse in important races!
As I invariably attend all the fashionable meetings and most of
the unfashionable (incognito of course the latter), it can be left
to _me_ to decide which horse was last--thus reducing the matter
to a _certainty_--distinctly an object to be gained in making a
bet--whatever _men_ may say to the contrary.
An ancestor of mine (the poet of the name)--having transmitted to me a
spark of his genius--I propose to give my selections in verse--select
verse in fact, and will now in concluding my letter, give my tip for
the probable last horse in the Derby--(which, by the way, happens in
this case to be a mare--I repeat--I am nothing if not original!)--and,
before doing so, I should like to express my sympathy with the Duke
of WESTMINSTER and JOHN PORTER, who have indeed had an Orme-ful of
trouble with the unfortunate erstwhile Derby Favourite, which would
undoubtedly have been my selection had he not been scratched! Yours
devotedly,