L'OJ THE HUNTING FIELD 



" Here, let me see it," said Mr. Strutt, perceiving how it 

 was. He took and read as follows : — 



'•The Cow at Dunchurch. Ask for tlie Honourable Mr. Milksop's 

 ^'room, and deliver the horse to him." 



" I ihoiigkt so," smA Mr. Strutt, tearing the paper up, and 

 giving it to the winds. " I thought so," repeated he, looking 

 at the horse. 



" And have you no letter from your master ? " asked Strutt. 



" No," replied the man. 



" No ! " repeated Strutt. " What ! no letter, no message, 

 no nothing? " 



" No," was all the answer returned. 



The " gemman wot does our shades " would not like to have 

 them dulled by recording the oaths that followed. Suffice it 

 to say, Strutt saw his worst fears were realized, and stormed 

 and fumed accordingly. 



The horse, too, came in for his share of abuse. What was 



the use of bringing such a d d cat-legged, cow-hocked, 



sickle-hammed, leg-tied, spavined, glandered, broken-down 

 rip of a brute to him ! He didn't 'orse a coach ! He didn't 

 keep a cab ! 



Poor Job Tod, the spectral groom, had lived in many bad 

 places, and had had too many blowings-up and blackguardings 

 to care much about one now, so finding he had got to his 

 customer, he sought the ostler, who conducted him to 

 Mr. Milksop's stable, where, notwithstanding Mr. Strutt's 

 asseverations that he would not receive the horse without 

 his pedigree, warrant}, and we don't know what else, he never- 

 theless let the second horseman lead him quietly in. Strutt's 

 bumptious, inflated, cock-sparrow manner — his full rubicund 

 face and boisterous action, contrasted with the lean, haggard, 

 pensive looks of the ill-fed, ill-paid stranger, whose wrinkled, 

 cadaverous cheeks were innocent of colour, whose old, mis- 



