"In our names we 're alike
But in minstrelsy--ah no!
For I'm a contralto
And you're a soprano."

To the same veracious chronicler I am indebted for a specimen of the
impromptus which Lord READING frequently throws off, to the delight of
his friends. Mr. WESTMORELAND was having a pair of boots tried on at
a famous Jermyn Street bootmaker's when Lord BEADING was undergoing a
similar ordeal, and electrified the courteous assistant by observing:--

"The right-foot boot to me seems rather tight;
The left, _per contra_, feels exactly right."

But perhaps the finest exponent of the art is a famous General, whose
_obiter dicta_ in verse are innumerable. I have only space to quote one,
spoken to a soldier with whom he had shaken hands:--

"You are the proudest man in France,
Or at any rate in Flanders,
For you've shaken hands, in a great advance,
With the greatest of Corps Commanders."

Surely in the light of these examples, which might be indefinitely
multiplied, there is no need for the present to fear comparison with the
past in the sphere of conversational verse?

I am, dear Mr. Punch,

Yours faithfully,