SONG. 75 



No sooner on the crowded Downs, with elbows squar'd, I stop, 

 Than nobs, professors,come around, and on their fortune drop. 

 When they see me push along, &c. 



Returning with our skins well lined, and chaffing's all the go, 

 Dukes, lords, and squires, to pass the throng try everything 



they know. 



Apollo's son was ne'er so proud, nor half so pleased as I, 

 When, dashing past a host of things, I say, " My lord, good- 

 bye." As I push along, &c. 



Now, if the railroads, that vile foe, t' our sport should put an 



end, 

 And England's pride, the four-in-hand, no longer have a 



friend, 



To some lone cot I will retire, and dream upon the past, 

 And live again on what was once the fastest of the fast. 

 When I used to push along, &c. 



But with all this, to me there was 

 something wanting to finish or fill up the 

 picture. Although the four horses were 

 shown off to the best advantage that skill 

 and judgment could produce, joined to 

 minute attention to the appointments of 

 both carriage and harness, still there was 

 a nakedness about the whole affair, when 

 contrasted with that more humble, at 

 the same time more useful, candidate for 



