Chair of absent President ably filled by Sir JOHN MILLAIS, who,
pluckily struggling against evidently painful hoarseness, made, in
returning thanks, an exceptionally graceful, touching, and altogether
memorable speech. Odd to note that, had Sir JOHN, speaking hoarsely,
broken down, we should have heard his _remplaçant_ Horsley speaking.
_The_ incident, however, which will mark this banquet as unique in
Academical records, was Sir JOHN'S mistaking one Archbishop for the
other, and, in consequence, pleasantly indicating by a polite bow to
the prelate on his left, that he called upon _him_, the Archbishop
of YORK, to reply for the visitors. "YORK, you're wanted," said, in
effect, the genial Sir JOHN, utterly ignoring the presence of His
Grace of CANTERBURY. Whereupon, CANTERBURY collapsed, while the
Northern Primate, vainly attempting to dissemble his delight,
professed his utter surprise, his total unpreparedness, and
straightforth hastened to improve the occasion. But before fifty words
had passed the jubilant Prelate's lips, Sir JOHN, having discovered
his mistake, rose quickly in his stirrups, so to speak, and pulled up
the impetuous YORK just then getting into his stride. Genially beaming
on the slighted CANTERBURY, Sir JOHN called on "The Primate of All
England" (a snub this for YORK) to return thanks. "One Archbishop very
like another Archbishop," chuckled the unabashed Sir JOHN to himself,
as he resumed his seat, "but quite forgot that YORK as Chaplain to
Academy is 'His Grace _before_ dinner,' and CANTERBURY represents
'Grace _after_ dinner.'" "'Twas ever thus," muttered YORK, moodily
eyeing the last drop in his champagne-glass, as he mentally recalled
ancient ecclesiastical quarrels between the two provinces, from which
the Southern Prelate had issued victorious. CANTERBURY flattered,
but, fluttered, lost his chance. His Royal Highness's speech brief,
comprehensive, effective. Lord ROSEBERY entertaining. "The rest is
silence," or better if it had been. No more at present. Good luck to
the Academy Show of 1895.
* * * * *
[Illustration: COLD COMFORT!
_Aunt Phillida._ "THE LAST TIME I WENT TO A GROWN-UP FANCY BALL, I
WENT AS A _WASP_. THAT WAS ONLY TEN YEARS AGO. I DON'T SUPPOSE I SHALL
EVER AGAIN GO TO A FANCY BALL AS A _WASP!_"
[_Sighs deeply._
_Mary._ "HARDLY AS A _WASP_, AUNT PHILLIDA. BUT YOU'D LOOK VERY
SPLENDID AS A BUMBLE-BEE!"
* * * * *