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they feel at the strong scent left the thick boughs and sharp thorns behind by him they had so un- of which nearly scratched my eyes ceremoniously disturbed from his out, and decapitate me as I burst comfortable lodgings. But the through it. But, as in the case of scent is too good for us to dwell long the renowned John Gilpin, it is for description, and away they go at

*Ah, luckless speech and bootless boast, a killing pace, which, if it lasts long

For which I paid full deur.' enough, will see to the bottom of many a gallant steed there present. Another ten minutes' best pace And now comes the rush of horse- and the fox is evidently sinking bemen amidst the cries of 'Hold hard ! fore us; but, alas! it was not to be don't spoil your sport!' of the my lot to see the gallant animal run master, and the ''old 'ard !' of the into and pulled down in the open, huntsman, who has an eye to tips, after as fine a run as was over seen. and therefore restrains his wrath in Trim-kept hedges, well-hung, stout,

But the 'Easyall- and newly-painted white gates, had shireans' are not to be kept back by show me that for the last few any such remonstrances and expos- moments he had entered the domain tulations as these, and those who of some proprietor, whose estate mean to be with the hounds through- certainly presented the very pink of out the run, hustle along to get a neatness: little indeed did I dream forward place; whilst the knowing that there would exist in the very and cunning ones, with the master heart of “Easyallshire' any one so at their head, turn short round, and benighted as to object to the inmake for a line of gates which lie roads made upon him by that reinvitingly open, right in the direc- nowned pack the 'Muggers.' But tion which the fox has taken. I set I reckoned without my host, or a good start, and being well mounted, rather, as the sequel will show, with sailed away, and am soon alongside my host; for as in my endeavours to of Joe the huntsman, whose horse, save my now somewhat exhausted though a screw, and not very high horse, I rode at what appeared an in condition, is obliged to go, being easy place in a very high fence, compelled thereto by its rider. A bounded on the off-side with a stiff stiff-looking fence which I charge at post and rail, an irate elderly gentlethe same moment as Joe, who takes man, gesticulating, shouting, and away at least a perch of fencing, waving an umbrella in his hand, sudand thus lets many a muff through, denly rose up as it were from the very lands us into the next field, and bowels of the earth, just as my steed affords & fair view of the hounds was preparing to make his spring, streaming away a little distance thus causing the spirited animal to before us.

But why should I de- rear up, and, overbalancing himself, scribe the run ? Bell's Life,' to fall heavily to the ground wi me weekly, gives much more graphic under him. When I next recovered descriptions of such things than I consciousness and opened my eyes, I am able to write; let me, therefore, was being borne along on a hurdle, confine my narrative to what befel by the author of my misfortunesmy individual self.

a grey-haired, piebald whiskered, A rattling burst of twenty minutes stout, little, red-faced old gentlerendered the field, as may be well man, and two of his satellites, who imagined, very select, and it would I rightly conjectured to be the in all probability have become still coachman and gardener; but the more so, had not a fortunate check pain of my broken leg made me given horses and men a few mo- again relapse into unconsciousness, ments' breathing time, thus enabling nor did the few wits I by nature the cunning riders to get up to the possess, return to me again until I hounds. Away we go again,' and was laid upon a bed, and a medical I will be there at the finish,' I ex- practitioner of the neighbourhood claimed, as pressing my cap firmly was busy at work setting my fracon my head, and shutting my eyes, tured limb. To make a long story I ride at a tremendous bullfinch, short, I remained under the roof of

Major Pipeclay – for that was the necessity, make a submissive and name of the irascible little gentle- obedient wife, I proposed—was acman, whose hatred of hunting, cepted, obtained the major's consent, hounds, and horses, had caused my and became a Benedict. suffering—until my wounded limb Dear reader, I am really ashamed was well again, the worthy old to confess the truth, 'I have been major doing all in his power to severely henpecked ever since.' make amends for the catastrophe Whether Belinda possesses the same his absurd violence had brought antipathy to hounds, horses, and about.

hunting men, as her progenitor, I At the expiration of six weeks I cannot possibly tell, for returning was able to move about on crutches; to India soon after my marriage, I at the termination of twice that had no opportunity of there testing period, I was well again, and had her feelings in that respect. Now moreover, fallen irretrievably in the increasing number of mouths in love with the bright eyes and pretty our nursery compels a decreasing face of Belinda Pipeclay, one of the ratio of animals in my stable, and I major's handsome daughters. Think- am reduced to one old, brokening, in my ignorance of the fair sex, winded cripple, which I call the that the child of so irascible a papa Machiner.' He takes Mrs. Sabre-having been in her juvenile days tache and myself to the market well tutored under the Solomonian town on a Saturday, and mamma, code 'of sparing the rod, and spoil- papa, and the little Sabretaches to ing the child'-must, therefore, of church on the following day.

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PICTURESQUE LONDON.

NO. 11.-FROM HIGHGATE ARCHWAY ON CHRISTMAS DAY.

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10 Mr. Kenny Meadows, Mr. out distressed damsels dying on

snow-covered doorsteps, robins pickFoster, Mr. Samuel Read, et hoc ing very black crumbs off very genus omne, greeting! Be good white lawns, carol-singing villagers enough, gentlemen, to accept my blowing their nails and beating their scorn! Be good enough to under- breasts for the superinducement of stand that I denounce you as the caloric? How long is it since you Perkin Warbecks, the Lambert Sim- saw any of these sights at Christmasnels, the Cock Lane Ghosts, and time? how long is it since you saw Johanna Southcotes of art! You snow at all, or since there was any are impostors, gentlemen! Not in good skating in London? I rememyour work; no! I know that well ber frosty winters when I was a boy, enough. Never did more cunning and I mind me of a certain time pencils work away on box-wood when London was “snowed up'blocks; never did more poetical when all the cabs that were out had minds blend with more expert two horses, and the omnibuses did fingers: but all this increases your not run, and there was a strange shame, gentlemen! You draw so silence in all the streets, as in a city admirably that we give in to your

of the dead. Sometimes when I imposition, and suffer ourselves to talk to people about things being be led captive by it. About Christ- different from what they were some mas, for instance: why do you still years ago, I am told, 'Ah! the portray that genial, ruddy, ice- change is in you. You feel differbound, holly-crowned giant? why ently about such matters. You're do you still fill our periodicals with getting on, you know;' and then I pictures of snow-covered landscapes, am impressed with the information snow-clad churches, ice-bound lakes, that time flies, and that we golf-parties, sleighing-parties, frozen none of us younger, and that

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each year makes a difference, and thereof. We give up conventionality various other novel and interesting when we get outside the porch, and remarks of the same nature. But, walk slowly home; and after lunch humbly subscribing to all this, I we throw open the French windows still maintain that the present style of the dining-room, and bask in the of representing Christmas is a genial sun which pours in through mockery, a delusion, and a snare, them. Far away, over the hushed and calculated to bring us into con- fields, and across the bar made by tempt in the eyes of our children, the quiet little railway line, lie the who will regard us as a set of mum- outposts of the sleeping giant, Lonmers playing at an exploded rite, don, a long line of terrace, very seaand will feel for us the same sort of sidy in its aspect, tall, and gaunt, pity that we feel for dear old George and stuccoey — very suggestive of Cruikshank, when we see him leav- lodgings at from two to four guineas ing his own quips and drolleries, in a week according to the floor, and which he has never been excelled, obviously looking on to the parado to attempt the portrayal of a mo- where the old gentlemen walk up dern swell—in the high-collared, and down, and cough, and the young long-tailed coat, ribbed silk stock- people flirt and smoke in front. No ings, and pumps of thirty years London for us, though, to-day; the ago.

dog-cart is at the door, but Brown When I rose this Christmas morn- George's head shall not be turned ing I saw no vestige of ice or snow. towards the streets; further a-field, The grass was brilliantly green, the eh, Brown George ? and, responsive buds were shooting on many shrubs, to my touch on the reins, the brave the air was balmy, and the entire horso starts off down the lane, and aspect of nature was April-like and striking through the heart of the genial. The conventionalities were groves of the Evangelist, turns into in full play. Yes; I will allow that the broad road skirting the Regent's people wished each other 'a merry Park. Christmas;' the gardener, as he Two friends are with me in this touched his hat, told me he had little trip-two friends like myself sent in a good store of Christmas affiliated to literature, and earning logs for firing; and there was the their bread by the plying of their usual excitement among the young pens. Consequently, it is not asfolk as to pudding and mincemeat. tonishing that the subject of our We found the church duly decorated conversation should be (has been with holly and laurel, bits of yew ever since we came together) the great uncomfortably mingling with the loss which our profession has sufother evergreens, and reminding one fered in the death of one of its chiefof Mr. Tennyson's tree, which

tains. Two nights since one of Graspest at the stones,

those driving wit me dined with That name the underlying dead,

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAYTby fibres net to dreamless head

listening to his jests, in which there Thy roots are wrapped around the bones;'

was ever a ringing echo of sadness, and the sockets of the parson's can

and talked with him of his prospects dlesticks flaring with curling green. and forthcoming work. And, as we Regular Christmas sermon from the pass the entrance to the Zoological parson-an old one, I think, as I Gardens, I mind me that it was there detect in it very frosty bits about I last had seen him; and Brown “hardened glebe' and 'ice-bound George's reins hang loosely in my rill,' and general recollection of the hand as I call to mind the tall illustrated journals not at all appro- square figure, the high shoulders, priate to the existing temperature. the hands now plunged deeply into Pew-opener conventional, too, with the trousers pockets, now clasped a Christmas shiver and a Christmas together behind his back, the intelcough before the receipt of the ligent face, with an expression of annual gratuity, and the Christmas sensitiveness amounting almost to grin and wishes of 'a many, many

querulousness which never left it, ’appy 'ears' after the pocketing the quaint philosophy and satire, so humanized as to be stripped of then approximates to that of a genall its barb, that proceeded from bo- tleman? because they are utterly tween his lips. Gone, gone for ever! wrong. Is it that they think the To us, humble hero-worshippers, costume pretty? because they are privates in the ranks which had frightfully mistaken. Why do men just lost one of their commanding want to be mistaken for what they officers, acolytes in the ceremonies are not? I know that if any one of which one of the high-priests had were to say to me, ‘Eusebius, my been called away, there was a cer- boy, I'll make you up to look like a tain incongruity in the acknowledged marquis, an earl, a baronet, or a jollity and happiness of the day. Lombard Street banker,' I should Thackeray was dead — Thackeray decline the honour; and why on the great author-a soul such as earth does Chips the carpenter--an seldom inhabits mortal clay had honest man and a very good-looking been suddenly recalled, and yet there one in his working clothes-try to were people grinning, and talking disguise himself in an utterly unand pushing, wheeling perambula- mistakable hideous sham? The tors, sucking oranges, coming hazily sward is dotted with red and blue out of gin-shops, wiping their children, appallingly bright; and mouths with the backs of their the seats are sprinkled with the hands. They cared nothing for the military, now squat and sheepish, dead man; they had never heard of now tall, whiskered, and impashim probably. And then one of us sioned, and with young persons in recollected a story which Thackeray service, who are supposed to be at himself had told him: how, when church, and whose conversation he was canvassing for his election at seems to be limited to the repetition Oxford, he called upon one of the of the sentence, 'Get along with yer.' Ileads of Colleges, and sent in his Vagrant boys, too, we see about, of name. The dignitary saw him, and course, fiends who mock at us as we asked his profession. 'An author.' pass, and who yell after us, “Three

What had he written ?' Something gents out for å hairin',' as Brown flabbergasted, he replied, ““ Vanity George turns through Gloucester Fair." "I never met with it,' said Gate and enters Camden Town. the dean; 'but conclude it is some- Do you know Camden Town ? A thing in the manner of Bunyan!' sweet spot: the home, par excellence, Vanitas vanitatum! and Jones, who of the commercial clerk of from 30s. has had an article on Boots in the a week to two-fifty a year--an esti

Megatherium,' and Brown, who mable, responsible, hard-working has published a comic shilling book man. I have a word or two-not called, 'Mrs. Tippikin's Tea and about him, but about the houses. Turn Out,' imagine that they are Houses all built to meet the requirecelebrities of the day, and that their ments of the clerkly world; they every action is closely scanned by an even look as if they had been manuadmiring public!

factured of dingy blotting-paper, So, take Brown George in hand and are so fragile that they could again, and away through the Re- be taken out with an eraser. Thogent's Park. The people-what the roughly respectable though: none noble Tory writers queruously call of your low lodgings, or anything of the plebsare out here in force, loll- that sort! House! nice parlour, wire ing, idling, romping, as though it blind in window; very shiny, sticky, were full summer. Fashion don't

gummy furniture, chairs with seem to alter much in the mecha- American cloth seats, which stick nic's Sunday dress; so long as I can to your trousers; vase with everrecollect it has been long-tailed coat, lasting flowers, and two china dogs black satin waistcoat, black trousers, on mantelpiece; very bad, cheap very crumply at the knees, and hard print of three chorister boys (oh, shiny black hat; so it is now, exact the difference between the sweet in every particular. Why do they youths and the real dirty-nosed choirdon this frightful garb? Is it with boy of a country church!) on the the notion that their appearance wall; little mat by the door. Nice

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