DEDICATION. 



the Baddlestone sparrow club had their annual 

 dinner and pigeon match I won the fat pig, was 

 made chairman at that dinner, proposed your 

 health, and sang with great eclat " The Fine Old 

 English Gentleman ;" how I got screwed, and 

 backed myself to ride "Poppet" over four 

 miles of fair hunting country against Jemmy 

 Alders' "Mad Moll" for ten pounds aside, 

 owners up and catch weights. 



The agony of my poor mother when she saw 

 the doeskins and tops with the scarlet of the 

 satin racing-jacket peeping over the collar of my 

 great-coat, her pride when her darling boy re- 

 turned victorious, or her misery when " Bogy 

 Butler," the Adonis of the village, in a fit of 

 jealousy told her he had caught me walking in 

 the lanes with " Pretty Jane," the beauty of the 

 place. I believe this is why I learnt "The 

 Bloom is on the Rye," in a maudlin fit of 

 spoon. 



Such dear old memories I can never forget. 

 Yes, years have passed away ; instead of riding 

 nine stone eight, I pull down the scale at thir- 

 teen seven. Notwithstanding all this, I can yet 

 play a pretty straight bat, swing along with a 



