run and
see your grandmother, and get her to wipe your nose for you. Strike me,
I could sweep the blank chimney with you! You want to get on to me, and
you know my cob can't go more than eleven at the outside. I was kiddin'
him on, do you see? Then I winks at old Sammy, and he says, very solemn,
'It's absurd for you, sir, to talk of trotting this gentleman. The cob's
out of condition, and rough as a badger.' You see I let the cob keep his
winter coat, and he was an object and no error. So this bloke was a fly
flat, don't you know, and I could see he bit. He says, 'I'd like to have
a match with you.' So I tips the office to Sammy, and blanked if he
didn't go and knock in a slice of bloomin' flint a little way between
the shoe and the near fore foot. I says very timid, 'Well, sir, I don't
mind having a try just for a bit of sport, if you'll lay L30 to L20.' He
says, 'Done with you,' and we staked. When I sees my pony walking
gingerly, I made as if I was took aback. He saw the same thing, and
says, 'Pony's wrong.' 'Yes,' says I, 'worse luck.' He says, 'I lay you
L50 to L30 I beat you.' I says, 'You have me at a disadvantage, sir, but
I'm on,' and I pulls out my three tenners. Then Sammy got the flint out,
and we went into the road. I let him go away, and after we'd done five
mile he waves and cries good-bye. I never hustled my cob, for I found I
could go by when I liked. Two mile from Dorking I gives the cob his
head. Lord love you, he can do seventeen inside the hour, and he left
that juggins as if he was standing still. When he drove up at Dorking,
he says, 'You're a red-hot member!' and, by God, I think I am!"

This interesting yarn was received with rapture, and a remarkably strong
anecdote of a lady and her footman fell flat, much to Mr. Preston's
disgust. Then came the hour for personalities. As the drink takes effect
our parlour customers attempt satire, and their efforts are always of a
strongly personal nature.

"If I'd a boiled beetroot face like you, I'd never show my 'ed in a
public room again."

"What's your wrong end like, you bloomin' Dutchman?"

"You shouldn't kiss and tell." (Rapturous applause.)

"Get away. You're too mean and miserable to do anything but count your
dibs. He's so mean, gentlemen, that when he dropped a sixpence into the
plate at church instead of a fourpenny-piece, he stopped his wife's
cat's-meat allowance for a week to make up."

"If I had a voice like you I'd have it stuffed."