The Great Presentation Day. 173 



it is, too ! The hedges are already slightly tinged with 

 green, sure sign of the approaching end of the season ; 

 the birds are singing like mad in every direction, and our 

 friend Charlie Wildoats, in good time for a wonder, 

 cantering along on a thorough-bred hack, and feeling, 

 as he says, as fit as a fiddle, thinks to himself as the 

 fresh balmy air fans his slightly fevered face, that, after 

 all, there's nothing like the country. Our volatile 

 acquaintance has an especial reason on this particular 

 morning for being in good time, he having what he calls a 

 little game of his own on. Watch him as he canters 

 along, a broad grin pervading his countenance at inter- 

 vals ! What mischief can he have on hand, we wonder ? 

 « * * * « * 



A Sunday or two before the great day, Charlie 

 — it being pouring wet — was obliged to confine him- 

 self to the house during the afternoon. So, having 

 got through all his usual Sunday literature — BelVs Life, 

 The Field, Baily, Pink ^Un, Sporting and Dramatic, 

 Fores's Notes and Sketches — then a short nap, then a 

 glance at the Racing Calendar, then another snooze — 

 he proceeded to light up a cigar, and, putting his 

 hands in his pockets, stared for some minutes in a 

 vacant manner out of the window at the dreary land- 

 scape. For some time he smoked and stared, and stared 

 and smoked, and thought of nothing in particular. At 

 last, however, the great presentation day dawned sud- 

 denly upon him, and he forthwith set about thinking 

 to himself how he could make capital out of it in the 

 shape of a lark. " By Jingo ! " suddenly ejaculated he, 

 throwing his nearly finished cigar into the grate and 

 giving a jump of delight, much to the astonishment of old 



