dog."--"Don't be in a hurry, sir, pray. He may be in the empty casks
behind the cooper's. Yooi, try for him, good bitch. Yooi, push him
out."--"You're not going down that bank, surely sir? Why, it's almost
perpendicular! For God's sake, sir, take care--remember you are not
insured. Ah! you had better get off--here, let me hold your nag, and
when you're down you can catch mine;--that's your sort but mind he
doesn't break the bridle. He won't run away, for he knows I've got some
sliced carrots in my pocket to reward him if he does well.--Thank you,
sir, and now for a leg up--there we are--that's your sort--I'll wait
till you are up also, and we'll be off together."

It is this union of the elegant courtesies and business of life with
the energetic sports of the field, that constitutes the charm of Surrey
hunting; and who can wonder that smoke-dried cits, pent up all the week,
should gladly fly from their shops to enjoy a day's sport on a Saturday?
We must not, however, omit to express a hope that young men, who
have their way to make in the world, may not be led astray by its
allurements. It is all very well for old-established shopkeepers "to do
a bit of pleasure" occasionally, but the apprentice or journeyman, who
understands his duties and the tricks of his trade, will never be found
capering in the hunting field. He will feel that his proper place is
behind the counter; and while his master is away enjoying the pleasures
of the chase, he can prig as much "pewter" from the till as will take
both himself and his lass to Sadler's Wells theatre, or any other place
she may choose to appoint.

But to return to the Surrey. The town of Croydon, nine miles from
the standard in Cornhill, is the general rendezvous of the gallant
sportsmen. It is the principal market town in the eastern division of
the county of Surrey; and the chaw-bacons who carry the produce of their