the
brown tarriar coat, is their jockey, the renowned Captain Hangallows; he
answers to the name of Sam Slick in Mr. Spavin the horse-dealer's yard in
Oxford Street, when not in the country on similar excursions to the
present. And now in the throng on the principal line are two conspicuous
horses--a piebald and a white--carrying Mr. Sponge and Lucy Glitters. Lucy
appears as she did on the frosty-day hunt, glowing with health and beauty,
and rather straining the seams of Lady Scattercash's habit with the
additional _embonpoint_ she has acquired by early hours in the country. She
has made Mr. Sponge a white silk jacket to ride in, which he has on under
his grey tarriar coat, and a cap of the same colour is in his hard hat. He
has discarded the gosling-green cords for cream-coloured leathers, and, to
please Lucy, has actually substituted a pair of rose-tinted tops for the
'hogany bouts'. Altogether he is a great swell, and very like the
bridegroom.

But hark--what a crash! The leaders of Sir Harry Scattercash's drag start
at a blind fiddler's dog stationed at the gate leading into the fields, a
wheel catches the post, and in an instant the sham captains are scattered
about the road: Bouncey on his head, Seedeyhuck across the wheelers, Quod
on his back, and Sir Harry astride the gate. Meanwhile, the old fiddler,
regardless of the shouts of the men and the shrieks of the ladies, scrapes
away with the appropriate tune of 'The Devil among the Tailors!' A rush to
the horses' heads arrests further mischief, the dislodged captains are at
length righted, the nerves of the ladies composed, and Sir Harry once more
essays to drive them up the hill to the stand. That feat being
accomplished, then came the unloading, and consternation, and huddling of
the tight-laced occupants at the idea of these female _women_ coming
amongst them, and the usual peeping and spying, and eyeing of the
'_creatures_.' 'What impudence!' 'Well, I think!' ''Pon my word!' 'What
next!'--exclamations that were pretty well lost upon the fair objects of
them amid the noise and flutter and confusion of the scene. But hark again!
What's up now?

[Illustration]

'Hooray!' 'hooray!' 'h-o-o-o-ray!' 'Three cheers for the Squire!
H-o-o-o-ray!' Old Puff as we live! The 'amazin' instance of a pop'lar man'
greeted by the Swillingford snobs. The old frost-bitten dandy is flattered
by the cheers, and bows condescendingly ere he alights from the
well-appointed mail phaet