I oo The Harkaway Hunt Ball, 



on going to indulge in a cup of tea, in preference to her 

 own apartments, needless to say to the intense gratifi- 

 cation of its jolly owner. 



Darkness sets in, and with it some snowflakes make 

 their appearance, leading those ballgoers who have elected 

 to put up for the night at Bullerton, instead of undergoing 

 the martyrdom of a long drive home, to congratulate them- 

 selves on their good policy. 



Nine o'clock comes, and carriage after carriage now 

 make their appearance in the town, and, having deposited 

 their precious burdens at the Town Hall, disperse to 

 the different inns, the snug taprooms of which are soon 

 full, almost to overflowing, of Jehus and Johnnies of all 

 shapes and sizes, from Lady Sheepshanks' magnificent 

 London coachman, twenty stun if he's an ounce, to Mr. 

 and Mrs. Hardup's shrivelled-up little old retainer, who 

 is not only the family coachman but looks after the 

 poultry and the pigs, does the garden, and on emergency 

 waits at table, and all for a consideration that would 

 scarcely keep the London man in '' baccy." 



Ten o'clock, and the principal room of the Town Hall 

 is filling rapidly. The ball-room is decorated with the 

 usual festoons of artificial flowers, pink muslin, sporting 

 devices, and mottoes — " Floreat Scientia," etc. — without 

 which of course no Hunt ball would be considered perfect. 

 The noble M.F.H. (Lord Daisyfield) and the rest of the 

 stewards are busy welcoming everyone as they enter the 

 room. Little Joe Trimmer, the mighty ^' We " of the 

 Bullerton Gazette, is seated at a table at the top of the 

 stairs, busy putting down the names of the visitors for 

 insertion in Saturday's paper. (It was the learned Joseph, 

 if we recollect rieht. who last year, in reporting: the 



