ave been a phaeton if they'd have let it; General
Grosvenor's dog-carriage, that is to say, his carriage with a dog upon
it; Lady Chesterfield and the Hon. Mrs. Anson in a pony phaeton with an
out-rider (Miss---- will have one next meeting instead of the
powdered footman); Tattersall in his double carriage driving without
bearing-reins; Old Theobald in leather breeches and a buggy; five Bury
butchers in a tax-cart; Young Dutch Sam on a pony; "Short-odds Richards"
on a long-backed crocodile-looking rosinante; and no end of pedestrians.

But where is Mr. Jorrocks all this time? Why eating brawn in the
"Rutland Arms" with his friend the Baron, perfectly unconscious that
all these passers-by were not the daily visables of the place. "Dash
my vig," said he, as he bolted another half of the round, "I see no
symptoms of a stir. Come, my lord, do me the honour to take another
glass of sherry." His lordship was nothing loath, so by mutual
entreaties they finished the bottle, besides a considerable quantity
of porter. A fine, fat, chestnut, long-tailed Suffolk punch cart
mare--fresh from the plough--having been considerately provided by the
Yorkshireman for Mr. Jorrocks, with a cob for himself, they proceeded
to mount in the yard, when Mr. Jorrocks was concerned to find that the
Baron had nothing to carry him. His lordship, too, seemed disconcerted,
but it was only momentary; for walking up to the punch mare, and resting
his elbow on her hind quarter to try if she kicked, he very coolly
vaulted up behind Mr. Jorrocks. Now Jorrocks, though proud of the
patronage of a lord, did not exactly comprehend whether he was in
earnest or not, but the Baron soon let him know; for thrusting his
conical hat on his brow, he put his arm round Jorrocks's waist, and
gave the old mare a touch in the flank with the Chinese boot, crying
out--"Along me, brave _garcon_, along _ma cher_," and the owner of the
mare living at Kentford, she went off at a brisk trot in that direction,
while the Yorkshireman slipped down the town unperceived. The sherry had
done its business on them both; the Baron, and who, perhaps was the most
"cut" of the two, chaunted the _Marsellaise_ hymn of liberty with
as much freedom as though he were sitting in the saddle. Thus they
proceeded laughing and singing until the Bury pay-gate arrested their
progress, when it occurred to the steersman to ask if they were going
right. "Be this the vay to Newmarket races?" inquired Jorrocks