HENLEY Regatta, I understand, is to be an international festival this year. A Dutch crew has entered for the Thames Cup, but it is not stated that they carry a broom in their bows. Nor is it to be inferred that they will make a clean sweep of the prize. Besides many English crews they will meet a crew from France. Then from Toronto come four Argonauts sailing not for the Golden Fleece, but for the Stewards' Challenge Cap; and from Ithaca, N.Y., eight modern Trojans, undergraduates of Cornell University, have set out intent on the capture of the Grand Challenge Cup. To all of them _Mr. Punch_ extends the right hand of good fellowship, though, being British to the backbone, he cannot wish for their triumph over his own gallant oarsmen. And amongst these he especially welcomes Mr. C. W. KENT, the Hero of Leander, who, having four times stroked his crew to victory, is once more seated on the slide of honour to defend possession of the Grand,--KENT, the pride of joyous Moulsey, whom at his birth the Fates endowed with the triple gifts of cunning, resource and courage, bidding him wield an indomitable oar in undefeated crews. As when a fox, emerging from the tangled covert----But I cannot pursue the Virgilian method any further. Let the event next week speak for itself. Here's luck all round, and may the best crew be an English one. In any case, may the best crew win. * * * The gentlemen from Cornell have brought over with them, in addition to their boats and oars, a terrible battle-cry, "Cornell, yell, yell, I yell Cornell." Manifestly the members of the London Rowing Club cannot model themselves on this, for to cry, "London, done, done, I'm done, London" would, I trust, be as inappropriate as it would certainly be discouraging. * * * My recent investigations into the condition of some of our great provincial cities lead me to the depressing belief that something is always wrong with some of their streets. Here, for instance, is "NEMO" writing to the _Manchester Guardian_ to complain that "on Saturday evening the Bury New Road was filthy, whilst the odour was equal to that of the Ship Canal, but different. Formerly there seemed to be an effort made to have the road brushed up on Friday ready for Saturday and Sunday, when thousands of well-dressed and happy people--Jew and Gentile--promenade it on their way to breezy Kersal Moor." But why, may I ask, should there be no well-dressed and happy Christians promenading on their way to Kersal Moor? It may be that they have followed "our local representatives," who, "NEMO" suggests, "are enjoying their holidays, or are immersed in golf," which I take to be a delicate euphemism for bunkered. * * * * * A LATE-AT-NIGHT RIDDLE.--_Q._ Why is it probable that the supper provided by the Royal Academicians for their guests at their _soirée_ would be chiefly or entirely vegetarian? _A._ Because all the dishes are "R. A. dishes."