CHAPTER XX 



LADY FOXHUNTERS 



SIR RASPER SMASHGATE AND MISS COTTONWOOL 



HERE is nothing we hate 

 so much as seeing a 

 woman lolling alone in 

 a carriage with a lap- 

 dog sticking out of the 

 window. It is the pic- 

 ture of deserted dejec- 

 tion — of utter loneliness, 

 friendlessness, and soli- 

 tude. 



Carriages are now so 

 multiplied that not keep- 

 ing one is the singularity instead of keeping one the 

 wonder. Roads are so good that we can get almost 

 everywhere upon wheels ; and feet and horses — saddle 

 horses at least — are about in equal disuse. We 

 should like to see a return of the number of carriages 

 kept now, and the number that were kept a hundred 

 or even fifty years ago. 



Considering the luxurious inert lives many of our 

 highest aristocracy lead, it is wonderful that they still 

 retain their superiority of appearance. What possible 

 exercise can there be in lounging on a soft cushioned, 

 easy hung carriage, for two or three hours in the day, 



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