SCRAPS FROM CHAPS.
Festive Farmers.—There was a meeting lately of the North Somerset Agricultural Society, whereat—according to the Bristol Mercury—
Mr. S. Harding proposed "The health of Mr. E. H. Llewellyn, their president and member." Mr. Llewellyn, he said, was the idol of North Somerset.
The toast was drank amidst the singing of "For he's a Jolly Good Fellow."
Mr. Llewellyn thanked all present for their kindness in paying him the greatest compliment they could pay to an Englishman, namely, by calling him a jolly good fellow.
Yes, Mr. Llewellyn, there's sense in your attitude!
When by other folks' virtues or wits we're opprest,
We feel 'tis no paradox, almost a platitude,
That "jolly good fellows" are after all best!
We can't all be famous in art or in 'ologies:
To the rank of Field Marshal 'tis vain to aspire;
But—offering to Don-dom a thousand apologies—
A "jolly good fellowship" all can acquire.
The Hope-crop in Scotland.—In another agricultural body—the Scottish Chamber to wit—they seem to be rather sanguine souls. One speaker remarked that "Mr. Long and the other members of the Government were pledged up to the hilt to dispel agricultural depression." He did not mention when the Government are supposed to have "taken the pledge," or how anybody can contrive to be pledged "up to the hilt," instead of—as it ought to be—"down to the dregs," about any thing. "Dispel" is a little too strong. Didn't Lord Salisbury at Watford say he had "no panacea"? The farmer's friends must go slow—plenty of patience and "pluck," or they'll be "ploughed"!
