nst that horse, which amount in the aggregate to a fortune; and
then it _buys_ the object of its frantic dislike. This being effected,
the horse of course loses, and the office wins. How could it be
otherwise? Would you have a horse win against its owner's interest?
The thing being settled, the office, in order to ascertain the amount
of its winnings, has only to deduct the price of the horse from its
aggregate bets, and arrange the remainder in a line of perhaps five
figures. Whereupon the betting-men grow seedier and more seedy; some
of the more mercurial go off in a fit of apoplectic amazement; some
betake themselves to Waterloo Stairs on a moonless night; some proceed
to the Diggings, some to St Luke's, and some to the dogs; some become
so unsteady, that they sign the wrong name to a draft, or enter the
wrong house at night, or are detected in a crowd with their hand in
the wrong man's pocket. But by degrees everything comes right again.
The insane are shut up--the desperate transported--the dead
buried--the deserted families carted to the workhouse; and the
betting-office goes on as before.

A MAY FLOWER-SHOW AT CHISWICK.

It is one o'clock P. M.; I am at Hyde-Park Corner; I hail the nearest
'Hansom,' and am quickly dashing away for Chiswick. The road leading
thither is always a scene of great bustle: on a Chiswick fete-day,
this is very much augmented. But I am early, and the increase of
vehicles is not yet great. A few carriages and cabs, mostly filled
with ladies, who, like myself, are early on the road, and eager to be
at the scene of action, are occasionally passed; for my horse is a
good one, and the driver seems to desire to do the journey in good
style. The majority of passengers and conveyances are chiefly of the
everyday character, and such as are always met with on this great
thoroughfare. Omnibuses, with loads of dusty passengers; carts and
wagons, filled with manure, and each with a man or boy dozing upon the
top; teams baiting at the roadside inns; troops of dirty children at
the ends of narrow streets; with carriers' carts, and travel-stained
pedestrians, make up the aggregate of the objects on the road. But in
another hour the scene will change; the aristocratic 'turn-out,' with
its brilliant appointments and spruce footmen--the cab, the brougham,
and the open chariot, all filled with gaily-dressed company, will
crowd the way; for a Chiswick fete is one of the events of a London
season. Pe