Were it not that the salutation were infelicitous, we should have said, "Hail, all hail!" to the _Fête_ at the Botanical Gardens, Regent's Park, last Wednesday. Besides, they have always an Aquarius of the name of WATERER on the premises, whose Rhododendrons are magnificent. So we didn't say "All hail!" and there was not a single drop, of rain, or in the attendance, to damage a charming show which has so often been spoilt by the drop too much that has floored many a _Fête_ of Flora. Nothing could have been prettier. Flowers of speech are inadequate to describe the scene. "Simply lovely!" is the best epitome of praise. * * * * * LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS. _The Look-out, Sheepsdoor, Kent_. DEAR MR. PUNCH, Ascot has been too much for me! What with the excitement of racing all day, and bézique half the night--(another sign of the times; women no longer "play for love," but "love to play!")--to say nothing of the constant strain on one's nerves as to what the weather was going to do to one's gowns, I have had a severe attack of overwork, with complicating symptoms of my old enemy, idleness!--so that, on my return to town, my Doctor--(he's a _dear_ man, and prescribes just what I suggest)--insisted that I should at once run down to the Seaside to recuperate. Hence my retirement to the little fishing village of Sheepsdoor in Kent, "far from the gadding crowd;" a most delightfully rural and little-known resort, where we all go about in brown canvas-shoes--(russia-leather undreamt of!)--and wear out all our old things, utterly regardless of whether we look "_en suite_" or not. The only precaution _I_ take is to carry in my pocket a thick veil, which I pop on if I see anybody with evidences of "style" about them coming my way; fortunately, this has only happened once, when I met a certain well-known "Merry Duchess" and her charming little daughter, who both failed to penetrate my disguise! I am sorry that my selected horse for the Windsor June Handicap did not run--though the word of command was given, "_Macready_!"--he was not told to be "present!"--being presumably short of a gallop or two, and therefore lacking "fire!" This little series of jokes is proudly dedicated to the _Military_, and _Civilians_ are "warned off!"--which is another turf expression. The much-needed rain has come at last, and the Heath should be in fine condition, which was more than its namesake at Ascot was, and all for want of a little attention--I am told that the far end was all in lumps, which caused the "_Lover_" to come down in his race--though that was hardly a surprise, as we know that "the course of true love never _did_ run smooth!"