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