CHAPTER XX 



LADY FOXHUXTERS 

 SIR RASPER SMASHGATE AND MISS COTTONWOOL 



HERE is nothing we hate so 

 much as seeing a woman 

 lolHng alone in a carriage 

 with a lap-dog sticking out 

 of the window. It is the 

 picture of deserted dejection 

 — of utter loneliness, friend- 

 lessness, and solitude. 



Carriages are now so 

 multiplied that not keeping 

 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 the\- still retain their 

 superiority of appearance. What possible exercise can there 

 be in lounging on a soft-cushioned, easy hung carriage for two 



