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another church in which so many ancient stones with floriated crosses and in- 
scriptions in bold character are to be found. This remarkable church, in short, 
presents a grand field for the antiquary. It would take days and weeks to study 
its details and its many points of architectural interest. The eastern window with 
five lancets, has been recently filled with stained glass to the officers and men of 
the 24th Regiment, who fell in the South African campaign, and a large brass 
plate sets forth the names of those who fell so nobly in their country’s cause. 
Such are the imperfect notes that a visit of less than an hour enabled the Club 
to make. The last minute that could be given was spent there, for the carriages 
were ordered to be at the gate; and thanking very much the Rev. Rees Price and 
Miss Morgan for all the information they so kindly gave to the members, a rush 
was made to catch the train. On the road, however, a couple of pictures were 
called for—one of the good Bishop Bull, and another, on mahogany panels, a por- 
trait of Caractacus, (auction, guaranteed !), The discussion on the authenticity of 
the likeness of the British chieftain enlivened many a mile as the train sped on, 
when the ery of a station porter—Aiy ! Aiy! Aiy !—was heard (it is difficult to 
express in type the peculiar phonetic expression used). The cry was meant to 
announce the arrival at the ancient border town of Hay, and gave rise to a dis- 
cussion on the use and misuse of the letter H. Worcestershire, it seems, is 
remarkable for variations with regard to it; and a gentleman present quoted the 
following petition which is old enough and clever enough to be published again:— 
Tue PkeTiITION oF THE LetTTER H TO THE INHABITANTS OF 
WORCESTERSHIRE. 
As since by you I have been driven 
From ‘‘ house,” from ‘‘ home,” from ‘‘ hope,” from ‘‘heaven,” 
And placed by your most learn’d society 
In “Exile,” ‘‘ Anguish,” and “ Anxiety,” 
And used without one just pretence 
In “ Arrogance.” and “‘ Insolence,” 
I think I need full restitution 
And beg you'll mend your elocution. 
But Worcestershire was equal to the occasion, and said in answer— 
Since we have rescued you, Ingrate, 
From “hell,” from *‘horror,”’ and from ‘‘hate, 
From ‘‘ Horse-pond,” “‘ Hedge,” *‘ Hill,” and ‘‘ Halter,” 
And consecrated you in ‘‘ Altar,” 
We think you need no restitution 
And shall not mend our elocution. 
So has passed off into history, with many pleasing recollections, another ladies’ 
day of the Woolhope Club. The day was not long enough, and indeed, there is so 
much of interest—historical, archeological, antiquarian, and’ scientific—in and 
around Brecon, that it would require many days to investigate at leisure. The 
very walls in Brecon itself so teem with ferns and wild flowers, which seemed all 
blossoming at once, that it would occupy a full half day’s pleasant work to any 
botanist, though it would require a long ladder to get at some of them. 
