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THE HANDLEY-CROSS HOUNDS.

No. IV.

THE FIRST DAY OF THE SEASON.

HANDLEY-CROSS had a very debauched look the morning after the hunt ball. The Ongar rooms being lighted with windows round the top, with covered galleries outside, for the accommodation of milliners, ladies' maids, and such as wish to criticise their masters and mistresses, had no protecting blinds; and a strong party having settled themselves into "three-some" reels-the gentlemen for the purpose of dancing themselves sober, the ladies like, Goldsmith's clown, to try and tire out the orchestra-the ball seemed well-calculated to last for ever, when the appearance of day-light in the room, making the wax-lights look foolish, and causing all the old chaperons to rush to their charges and hurry them off, before bright Phoebus should expose the forced complexions of the night. All then was hurry-scurry; carriages were called up, and hurried off as though the plague had broken out, and Johns and Jehus were astonished at the bustle of their "mississes.'

The last fly at length drove off; the variegated lamps, round the festooned porch, began glimmering and dying in succession, as Doleful and the remaining gentlemen stood bowing, grinning, and kissing their hands to their departing partners, while their blue coats and canary coloured shorts, exhibited every variety of shade and complexion that the colours are capable of. Doleful's hair too, assumed a vermillion hue. The town was clear, bright, and tranquil; no sound disturbed the quiet streets, and there was a balmy freshness in the morning air, that breathed gratefully on the feverish frames of the heat ed dancers. The cock," the trumpet of the morn," had just given his opening crow, in farmer Haycock's yard behind the rooms, and the tinkling bells of the oxen's yoke came softened on the air like the echoing cymbals of the orchestra.

St. George's chapel clock strikes! Its clear silvery notes fall full upon the listeners' ears. "One! two! three! four! five! six-six o'clock!" and youths say it is not worth while going to bed, while men of sense set off without a doubt on the matter. Some few return to the supper-room to share the ends of champagne bottles and lobster salads with the waiters.

Morning brought no rest to the jaded horses and helpers of the town. No sooner were the rosinantes released from the harness of the flys, than they were led to the stable-doors and wisped and cleaned in a

manner that plainly showed it was for coming service, and not for that performed. Bill Gibbon, the club-footed ostler of the "Swan Hotel and Livery Stables," had eight dirty fly-horses to polish into hunters before eleven o'clock, and Tom Turnbinn, and his deaf-and-dumb boy had seven hunters and two flys ordered for the same hour. There was not a horse of any description but what was ordered for the coming day, and the donkeys were bespoke three deep.

A little before eleven, the bustle commenced; the first thing seen was Peter leaving the kennel with the hounds, Abelard, the black poodle, and "Mr. Fleeceall," the white terrier with a black eye. Peter was dressed in a new scarlet frock-coat with a sky-blue collar, buff striped toilanette waistcoat, black cap, new leathers and boots. His whip, spurs, gloves, bridle, and saddle were also new, and he was riding a new white horse. Barnaby's groom followed, similarly attired; and this being his first appearance in the character of a whipper-in, he acted fully up to the designation, by flopping and cracking the hounds with his whip, and crying "co'p, co'p, hounds!-go on hounds-go on! drop it!-leave it!-to him, to him!" and making sundry other orthodox noises.

ones.

Lamp-black was that morning in great request. The "Kentish Arms" is a well-known term for "broken knees," and there was not a hack horse in Handley-Cross, or even in the hundred, with a pair of whole Collar and crupper marks too had to be effaced, and some required a touch of lamp-black on their heads, where they had knocked the hair off in their fall. The saddling and bridling were unique! No matter what sort of a mouth the horse had, the first bridle that came to hand was put into it.

Stephen Dumpling's horse, having travelled from home, was the first of the regulars to make his appearance in the street. He was a great, raking, sixteen-hands chesnut, with "white stockings," and a bang tail down to the hocks. He was decorated with a new bridle with a blue silk front, and a new saddle with a hunting horn at the bow. Stephen's lad, dressed in an old blue dress-coat of his master's, with a blue and white striped livery waistcoat, top-boots, and drab-cords, and having a cockade in his hat, kept walking the horse up and down before the Dragon hotel, while Stephen with a feverish pulse and aching head, kept sipping his coffee, endeavouring to make himself believe he was eating his breakfast. At last he lighted a cigar, and appeared whip in hand under the arched gate-way. He had on a new scarlet coat with a blue collar, the same old red-ended neck-cloth he had worn at the ball, an infinity of studs down an ill-fitting, badly-washed shirt, a buff waistcoat, and a pair of what are called Dorsetshire leathers*," -a sort of white flannel, that after the roughings of one or two washings, give gentlemen the appearance of hunting in their drawers. His boots had

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not been "put straight" after the crumpling and creasing they had got in travelling up in his "bags," consequently there were divers patches of blacking transferred to the tops, while sundry scrapings of putty, or of some other white and greasy matter, appeared on the bottoms. Independently of this, the tops retained lively evidence of their recent scouring in the shape of sundry up and down strokes, like the first coat of white-washing, or what house-painters call "priming," on a new door.

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Dumpling's appearance in the street was the signal for many who were still at their breakfasts, to bolt the last bits of muffin, drink up their tea, and straddle into the passage, to look for hats, gloves, and whips. Doors opened, and sportsmen emerged from every house. Round-the-corner Smith's roan mare with a hunting horn at the saddle bow, had been making the turn of Hookem's library for ten minutes and more, and the stud of Lieutenant Feelall, the riding master,- -seven "perfect broke horses for road or field," with two unrivalled ponies-had passed the Dragon for the eight Miss Mercers, and their brother Tom, to go out upon to see the hounds." Then sorry steeds, with sorrier equipments, in the charge of very sorry-looking servants, paced up and down High-street, Paradise-row, and the Crescent; and a yellow fly, No. 34, with red wheels, drove off with Dumpling's nondescript servant on the box, and the three Miss Dobbses and Mother Dobbs, in scarlet silk pellisses, with sky-blue ribbons and handkerchiefs, inside. Jaded young ladies, whose looks belie their assertions, assure their mammas that they are not in the "least tired," step into flys and drive away through High-street, kissing their hands, bowing and smiling, right and left, as they go.

Abel Snoreem, having purchased a pair of new top-boots, appears in the sky-blue coat lined with pink silk, and the canary-coloured shorts of the previous evening, looking very much like a high sheriff's horse footman going out to meet the judges. Not meaning to risk his neck, although booted, he makes the fourth in a fly with Mr. and Miss Mordecai and fat old Mr. Guzzle, who goes from watering place to watering place, trying the comparative merits of the waters in restoring appetite after substantial meals: he looks the picture of health and apoplexy. Mrs. Barnaby's dashing yellow barouche comes hurrying down the street, the bays bearing away from the pole, and the coachman's elbows sticking out in a corresponding form. Of course all the flys, horses, and passengers, that are not desirous of being driven over by "John Thomas" the London coachman, are obliged to get out of the

* These breeches used to be very popular with the members of Mr. Farquharson's hunt. Probably the gentlemen cleaned their breeches and coat collars (white) with the same article.

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