At the appointed hour on the appointed morning, the Yorkshireman appeared in Great Coram Street, where he found Mr. Jorrocks in the parlour in the act of settling himself into a new spruce green cut-away gambroon butler’s pantry-jacket, with pockets equal to holding a powder-flask each, his lower man being attired in tight drab stocking-net pantaloons, and Hessian boots with large tassels—­a striking contrast to the fustian pocket-and-all-pocket jackets marked with game-bag strap, and shot-belt, and the weather-beaten many-coloured breeches and gaiters, and hob-nail shoes, that compose the equipment of a shooter in Yorkshire.  Mr. Jorrocks not keeping any “sporting dogs,” as the tax-papers call them, had borrowed a fat house-dog—­a cross between a setter and a Dalmatian—­of his friend Mr. Evergreen the greengrocer, which he had seen make a most undeniable point one morning in the Copenhagen Fields at a flock of pigeons in a beetroot garden.  This valuable animal was now attached by a trash-cord through a ring in his brass collar to a leg of the sideboard, while a clean licked dish at his side, showed that Jorrocks had been trying to attach him to himself, by feeding him before starting.

“We’ll take a coach to the Castle”, said Jorrocks, “and then get a go-cart or a cast somehow or other to Streatham, for we shall have walking enough when we get there.  Browne is an excellent fellow, and will make us range every acre of his estate over half a dozen times before we give in”.  A coach was speedily summoned, into which Jorrocks, the dog Pompey, the Yorkshireman, and the guns were speedily placed, and away they drove to the “Elephant and Castle.”

There were short stages about for every possible place except Streatham.  Greenwich, Deptford, Blackheath, Eltham, Bromley, Footscray, Beckenham, Lewisham—­all places but the right.  However, there were abundance of “go-carts,” a species of vehicle that ply in the outskirts of the metropolis, and which, like the watering-place “fly,” take their name from the contrary—­in fact, a sort of lucus a non lucendo.  They are carts on springs, drawn by one horse (with curtains to protect the company from the weather), the drivers of which, partly by cheating, and partly by picking pockets, eke out a comfortable existence, and are the most lawless set of rascals under the sun.  Their arrival at the “Elephant and Castle” was a signal for a general muster of the fraternity, who, seeing the guns, were convinced that their journey was only what they call “a few miles down the road,” and they were speedily surrounded by twenty or thirty of them, all with “excellent ’osses, vot vould take their honours fourteen miles an hour.”  All men of business are aware of the advantages of competition, and no one more so than Jorrocks, who stood listening to their offers with the utmost sang-froid, until he closed with one to take them to Streatham Church for two shillings, and deliver them within the half-hour, which was a signal for all the rest