of the new-comers who are paraded along two lines of gaping, quizzing,
laughing, joking, jeering citizens, who fire volleys of wit and satire
upon them as they pass. "There's leetle Jemmy Green again!" exclaimed a
nursery-maid with two fat, ruddy children in her arms, "he's a beauty
without paint!" "Hallo, Jorrocks, my hearty! lend us your hand," cried a
brother member of the Surrey Hunt. Then there was a pointing of fingers
and cries of "That's Jorrocks! that's Green!" "That's Green! that's
Jorrocks!" and a murmuring titter, and exclamations of "There's
Simpkins! how pretty he is!" "But there's Wiggins, who's much nicer."
"My eye, what a cauliflower hat Mrs. Thompson's got!" "What a buck young
Snooks is!" "What gummy legs that girl in green has!" "Miss Trotter's
bustle's on crooked!" from the young ladies at Miss Trimmer's seminary
who were drawn up to show the numerical strength of the academy, and act
the part of walking advertisements. These observations were speedily
drowned by the lusty lungs of a flyman bellowing out, as Green passed,
"Hallo! my young brockley-sprout, are you here again?--now then for
the tizzy you owe me,--I have been waiting here for it ever since last
Monday morning." This salute produced an irate look and a shake of his
cane from Green, with a mutter of something about "imperance," and a
wish that he had his big fighting foreman there to thrash him. When they
got to the gate at the end, the tide of fashion became obstructed by the
kissings of husbands and wives, the greetings of fathers and sons, the
officiousness of porters, the cries of flymen, the importunities of
innkeepers, the cards of bathing-women, the salutations of donkey
drivers, the programmes of librarians, and the rush and push of the
inquisitive; and the waters of "comers" and "stayers" mingled in one
common flood of indescribable confusion.

Mr. Jorrocks, who, hamper in hand, had elbowed his way with persevering
resignation, here found himself so beset with friends all anxious to