NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—­Keep it on one side, and you spiles his purchase.

WATERMAN—­Come up, you old brute!

OFF-SIDE HORSE.—­Old brute!  What evidence of a low mind!—­[The stout woman and fat family ascend the steps of the coach].

COACH.—­O law! oh, law!  Week! week!  O law!—­O law!  Week! week!

NEAR-SIDE HORSE—­Do you hear how the poor old thing’s a sufferin’?—­She must feel it a good deal to have her squabs sat on by everybody as can pay for her.  She was built by Pearce, of Long-acre, for the Duchess of Dorsetshire.  I wonder her perch don’t break—­she has been crazy a long time.

WATERMAN.—­Snow-hill—­opposite the Saracen’s Head.

NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—­I know’d it!

COACHMAN.—­Kuck! kuck!

WHIP.—­Whack! whack!

OFF-SIDE HORSE.—­Pull away, my dear fellow; a little extra exertion may save us from flagellation.

NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—­Well, I’m pulling, ain’t I?

OFF-SIDE HORSE.—­I don’t like to dispute your word;
but—­(whack)—­Oh! that was an abrasion on my shoulder.

NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—­A raw you mean.  Who’s not pulling now, I should like to know!

OFF-SIDE HORSE.—­I couldn’t help hopping then; you know what a grease I have in my hind leg.

NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—­Well, haven’t I a splint and a corn, and ain’t one of my fore fetlocks got a formoses, and my hind legs the stringhalt?

WOMAN.—­Stop! stop!

COACHMAN.—­Whoo up!—­d—­n you!

OFF-SIDE HORSE.—­There goes my last masticator!

NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—­And I’m blow’d if he hasn’t jerked my head so that he’s given me a crick in the neck; but never mind; if she does get out here, we shall save the hill.

WOMAN.—­Three doors higher up.

COACHMAN.—­Chuck! chuck!

WHIP.—­Whack! whack!

COACHMAN.—­Come up, you varmint!

OFF-SIDE HORSE—­Varmint! and to me! the nephew of the great Lottery!  O
Pegasus! what shall I come to next!

NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—­Alamode beef, may be, or perhaps pork sassages!

* * * * *

The old woman was so long in that house where she stopped, that I was obleeged to toddle home, for my wife has a rather unpleasant way of taking me by the scruff of my neck if I ain’t pretty regular in my hours.

Yours, werry obediently, TOBY.

* * * * *

COURT CIRCULAR.

Communicated exclusively to this Journal by MASTER JONES, whose services we have succeeded in retaining, though opposed by the enlightened manager of a metropolitan theatre, whose anxiety to advance the interest of the drama is only equalled by his ignorance of the means.

* * * * *

Since the dissolution of Parliament, Lord Melbourne has confined himself entirely to stews.