The Great Presentation Day. 175 



positively groans with plate ; in fact, there is so much 

 gold and silver ware in the room that one might almost 

 fancy oneself at the hall of the Goldsmiths' Company. 

 At one end of the large drawing room is set out on a 

 large easel, with plum-coloured cloth tastefully draped 

 round it, the presentation portrait of Lord Daisyfield. 

 There is his lordship, as large as life, depicted on his 

 celebrated hunter, Peter the Great, and surrounded by a 

 few of his favourite hounds. The big clock in the stable 

 yard, making nearly as much noise as ** Big Ben," strikes half 

 past ten, and the hungry sportsmen begin to arrive. Now 

 in tens, now in twenties, the cry is still they come ! The 

 gravel in front of the house is soon in a nice state, cut up, 

 indeed, like a ploughed field. The volunteer band posted 

 on the lawn has learned a new tune for the occasion, and 

 strikes up with terrific eff'ect, the big drum playing the 

 very deuce with some of the excitable horses. See ! little 

 Jack Spratt is kicked off right in front of the hall door, just 

 as he was riding up with such an air, too, and the only girl he 

 ever loved looking at him out of the drawing-room window. 

 Everybody gets seated at last, and clatter, clatter, clatter 

 go the knives and forks. Pop ! pop! pop! go the champagne 

 corks on all sides of the room. How they all eat and 

 drink ! One would really think they had none of them tasted 

 food for weeks. There's old Captain Dabber, who has eaten 

 until he can hardly see. Look at him, the greedy old cor- 

 morant, he has just waylaid a footman with a dish of quails 

 in his hand, and is now engaged working them off, one after 

 the other, with intense satisfaction to himself. At last every- 

 one has done, and by and by a sound like the rapping of 

 a handle of a knife on the table is heard from the end of 

 the room where sits the host, the great Mr. Yellowboy. 



