That they are not accustomed to ultra punctuality in the arrival of
steam-yachts at Port Victoria.
That some one ought to catch it for not looking after the water-pipes
in the State dining-room.
That it is rather trying to have to remain dignified with your boots
in three inches of water.
That the Eton Volunteers are just the sort of boys to follow the
tradition of the past, and win a second Waterloo.
That still it was a little awkward to have to review them in the
pauses of a thunderstorm.
That the wedding as a wedding was not bad, but a couple of hundred
thousand troops or so posted as a guard of honour, would have made it
more impressive.
That Buckingham Palace is rather _triste_, when it is populated on the
scale of one inhabitant to the square mile.
That Covent Garden Opera House, decorated with leagues of flower
wreaths, is the finest sight in the world.
That Sheriff AUGUSTUS GLOSSOP HARRIS deserves a dukedom, and, if he
were a German, should have it.
That one State Ball is like every other, but still it was very well
done on Friday.
That the visit to the City was an entire success (although I wish the
audience had made up their minds whether they would stand up or
sit while I was speaking), thanks no doubt to the influence of the
Sheriff.
That Saturday's doings were delightful. I was absolutely deafened with
the cheering.
That it is very pleasant to be so well received, especially when,
three years ago, I was generally snubbed and treated as a nobody.
* * * * *