We’ve ad the Welshers ere, and did they injy theirselves?  Didn’t they jest!  And wosn’t they all jest perlite to us Waiters, as all true gents allus is, and didn’t they amost shout theirselves hoarse when the LORD MARE got up to perpose the fust Toast!  But not qwite, oh no, not by no means, or they woodn’t have bin abel to sing what they calls their Nashnal Hanthem so bewtifoolly that they made the werry tears cum into my old eyes!  One on ’em kindly told me as they calls it, “Him glad to find Ada,” which means, “The Land of my Fathers”! and a werry nice name too, tho I don’t quite see why they shoud leave out their pore Mothers, but it’s the ushal way of the world, out of site out of mind! but they makes up for it by calling the Land of their Fathers, their Mother country, so it comes all rite in the end.

The same kind Gent told me he oped they would sing their favrit song, “Ah, hide her nose!” commonly called “Poor MARY ANN!” so I should think indeed.

I didn’t see, in looking down the long list of Gests, no gent by the name of TAFFY, at which I was summut serprized.

I heard a gent interdoosed as the Edditer of “the General Gimrig,” which I takes to be a Raddicle Paper.  I didn’t at all no afore what a wunderfooll harrystokratic place little Wales is.  Why we had about a duzen Nobbelmen inclewding a reel Dook, and as if that wosn’t rayther a staggerer, we had no less than four reel Bishups with Harchdeecuns to match, about thirty Members of Parlement, and quite a brood of Welch Mares.

I suttenly thort as I had had a werry fair sampel of Welch enthusyasm and Welch loyalty when I herd them jine in singin our Nashnal Anthem; but lor it was nothin to their recepshun of the LORD MARE when he guv ’em the Toast of the hevening, “Wales!” Why they sprung to their feet, Bishups, and Harchdeecuns, and Dook, and Nobbelmen, and M.P.’s and all, and shouted and cheerd and emtied their glasses, and then gave three such cheers as made the hold All ring again!  Which I wished as the Prinse of WALES was there to heer ’em.

BROWN and me had our nice quiet larf together at the ushal bit of fun.  When sum werry ellerkent gent was a makin a speach as was rayther too long for them as wanted to heer the lovely Welch mewsic, they began for to hammer on the table with our bewtifool silver spoons and reel cut glasses, meaning to say, “That’s about enuff,” but the pore delewded Horrator thort it meant, “Keep it up, my boy; it’s splendid!” So he kep it up till two of our best glasses was broke, and then he kindly sat down looking the werry pictur of happiness.  It reminded me of a simlar little delushun as we practises early in the year.  “Waiter,” says sum hungry Gent, “bring me sum more Whitebait,” and I takes him sum more Sprats, and he is quite content!  As our Grate Poet says, “Where hignorance makes you ’appy, remane as you are”!  Upon the whole, I wentures to think as the Welch Nashnal Bankwet, given by Lord Mare EVANS, was about the most sucksessful as I have ewer assisted at during my menny years of such pleasant xperiences.  I finishes by saying, I should werry much like to see a reel Irish Lord Mare try his hand in the same Nashnal way.