betting,
galloping, cursing, swearing, and bellowing, the horses rush past the
judge's box.

But we have run our race, and will not fatigue our readers with
repetition. Let us, however, spend the evening, and then the "Day at
Newmarket" will be done.

Mr. Spring, with his usual attention to strangers, persuades Mr.
Jorrocks to make one of a most agreeable dinner-party at the "White
Hart" on the assurance of spending a delightful evening. Covers are laid
for sixteen in the front room downstairs, and about six o'clock that
number are ready to sit down. Mr. Badchild, the accomplished keeper of
an oyster-room and minor hell in Pickering Place, is prevailed upon to
take the chair, supported on his right by Mr. Jorrocks, and on his left
by Mr. Tom Rhodes, of Thames Street, while the stout, jolly, portly
Jerry Hawthorn fills--in the fullest sense of the word--the vice-chair.
Just as the waiters are removing the covers, in stalks the Baron, in his
conical hat, and reconnoitres the viands. Sam, all politeness, invites
him to join the party. "I tank you," replies the Baron, "but I have my
wet in de next room." "But bring your wet with you," rejoins Sam, "we'll
all have our wet together after dinner," thinking the Baron meant his
wine.

The usual inn grace--"For what we are going to receive, the host expects
to be paid",--having been said with great feeling and earnestness, they
all set to at the victuals, and little conversation passed until the
removal of the cloth, when Mr. Badchild, calling upon his vice, observed
that as in all probability there were gentlemen of different political
and other opinions present, perhaps the best way would be to give a
comprehensive toast, and so get over any debatable ground,--he therefore
proposed to drink in a bumper "The king, the queen, and all the royal
family, the ministry, particularly the Master of the Horse, the Army,
the Navy, the Church, the State, and after the excellent dinner they
had eaten, he would include the name of the landlord of the White Hart"
(great applause). Song from Jerry Hawthorn--"The King of the Cannibal
Islands".--The chairman then called upon the company to fill their
glasses to a toast upon which there could be no difference of opinion.
"It was a sport which they all enjoyed, one that was delightful to the
old and to the young, to the peer and to the peasant, and open to all.
Whatever might be the merits of other amusements, he had never yet met
any man with