g, no
doubt, to the presence of the fair sex), that it seemed as if a small
breeze of wind would have made them all turn tail and run away,--
especially if the breeze were raised by the women!

That the reception of these lion-like men (converted into lambs that
night) was hearty, was evinced by the thunders of applause which greeted
every reference to their brave deeds. That their reception was
intensely earnest, was made plain by the scroll, emblazoned on a huge
banner that spanned the upper end of the room, bearing the words. "God
bless the Lifeboat Crews."

We need not refer to the viands set forth on that great occasion. Of
course they were of the best. We may just mention that they included
"baccy and grog!" We merely record the fact. Whether buns and tea
would have been equally effective is a question not now under
consideration. We refrain from expressing an opinion on that point
here.

Of course the first toast was the Queen, and as Jack always does
everything heartily, it need scarcely be said that this toast was
utterly divested of its usual formality of character. The chairman's
appropriate reference to her Majesty's well-known sympathy with the
distressed, especially with those who had suffered from shipwreck,
intensified the enthusiasm of the loyal lifeboat-men.

A band of amateur Christy Minstrels (the "genuine original" amateur
band, of course) enlivened the evening with appropriate songs, to the
immense delight of all present, especially of Mr Robert Queeker, whose
passionate love for music, ever since his attendance at the
singing-class, long long ago, had strengthened with time to such an
extent that language fails to convey any idea of it. It mattered not to
Queeker whether the music were good or bad. Sufficient for him that it
carried him back, with a _gush_, to that dear temple of music in
Yarmouth where the learners were perpetually checked at critical points,
and told by their callous teacher (tormentor, we had almost written) to
"try it again!" and where he first beheld the perplexing and beautiful
Fanny.

When the toast of the evening was given--"Success to the Ramsgate
Lifeboat,"--it was, as a matter of course, received with deafening
cheers and enthusiastic waving of handkerchiefs from the gallery in
which the fair sex were accommodated, among which handkerchiefs Queeker,
by turning his head very much round, tried to see, and believed that he
saw, the precious bit of cambric