oting with that gentleman, and to learn from him what horse Mr.
Eglantine was to ride on Sunday.

The monster Walker had fully determined in his mind that Eglantine
should FALL off that horse in the course of his Sunday's ride.

"That sing'lar hanimal," said Mr. Snaffle, pointing to the old horse,
"is the celebrated Hemperor that was the wonder of Hastley's some years
back, and was parted with by Mr. Ducrow honly because his feelin's
wouldn't allow him to keep him no longer after the death of the first
Mrs. D., who invariably rode him. I bought him, thinking that p'raps
ladies and Cockney bucks might like to ride him (for his haction is
wonderful, and he canters like a harm-chair); but he's not safe on any
day except Sundays."

"And why's that?" asked Captain Walker. "Why is he safer on Sundays than
other days?"

"BECAUSE THERE'S NO MUSIC in the streets on Sundays. The first gent that
rode him found himself dancing a quadrille in Hupper Brook Street to
an 'urdy-gurdy that was playing 'Cherry Ripe,' such is the natur of the
hanimal. And if you reklect the play of the 'Battle of Hoysterlitz,' in
which Mrs. D. hacted 'the female hussar,' you may remember how she
and the horse died in the third act to the toon of 'God preserve the
Emperor,' from which this horse took his name. Only play that toon to
him, and he rears hisself up, beats the hair in time with his forelegs,
and then sinks gently to the ground as though he were carried off by a
cannon-ball. He served a lady hopposite Hapsley 'Ouse so one day, and
since then I've never let him out to a friend except on Sunday, when, in
course, there's no danger. Heglantine IS a friend of mine, and of course
I wouldn't put the poor fellow on a hanimal I couldn't trust."

After a little more conversation, my lord and his friend quitted Mr.
Snaffle's, and as they walked away towards the "Regent," his Lordship
might be heard shrieking with laughter, crying, "Capital, by jingo!
exthlent! Dwive down in the dwag! Take Lungly. Worth a thousand pound,
by Jove!" and similar ejaculations, indicative of exceeding delight.

On Saturday morning, at ten o'clock to a moment, Mr. Woolsey called at
Mr. Eglantine's with a yellow handkerchief under his arm. It contained
the best and handsomest body-coat that ever gentleman put on. It fitted
Eglantine to a nicety--it did not pinch him in the least, and yet it was
of so exquisite a cut that the perfumer found, as he gazed delighted
in the glass,