The Yorkshireman, having lighted his cigar and tightened his girths, rode leisurely among the horsemen, many of whom were in eager council, and a gentle breeze wafted divers scraps of conversation to his ear.

What is that hound got by?  No.  How is that horse bred?  No.  What sport had you on Wednesday?  No.  Is it a likely find to-day?  No, no, no; it was not where the hounds, but what the Consols, left off at; what the four per cents, and not the four horses, were up to; what the condition of the money, not the horse, market.  “Anything doing in Danish bonds, sir?” said one.  “You must do it by lease and release, and levy a fine,” replied another.  Scott v. Brown, crim. con. to be heard on or before Wednesday next.—­Barley thirty-two to forty-two.—­Fine upland meadow and rye grass hay, seventy to eighty.—­The last pocket of hops I sold brought seven pounds fifteen shillings.  Sussex bags six pounds ten shillings.—­There were only twenty-eight and a quarter ships at market, “and coals are coals.”  “Glad to hear it, sir, for half the last you sent me were slates.”—­“Best qualities of beef four shillings and eightpence a stone—­mutton three shillings and eightpence, to four shillings and sixpence.—­He was exceedingly ill when I paid my last visit—­I gave him nearly a stone of Epsom-salts, and bled him twice.—­This horse would suit you to a T, sir, but my skip-jack is coming out on one at two o’clock that can carry a house.—­See what a bosom this one’s got.—­Well, Gunter, old boy, have you iced your horse to-day?—­Have you heard that Brown and Co. are in the Gazette?  No, which Brown—­not John Brown?  No, William Brown.  What, Brown of Goodman’s Fields?  No, Brown of——­ Street—­Brown_e_ with an e; you know the man I mean.—­Oh, Lord, ay, the man wot used to be called Nosey Browne.”  A general move ensued, and they left “the meet.”

“Vere be you going to turn out pray, sir, may I inquire?” said a gentleman in green to the huntsman, as he turned into a field.  “Turn out,” said he, “why, ye don’t suppose we be come calf-hunting, do ye?  We throws off some two stones’-throw from here, if so be you mean what cover we are going to draw.”  “No,” said green-coat, “I mean where do you turn out the stag?”—­“D—­n the stag, we know nothing about such matters,” replied the huntsman.  “Ware wheat! ware wheat! ware wheat!” was now the general cry, as a gentleman in nankeen pantaloons and Hessian boots with long brass spurs, commenced a navigation across a sprouting crop.  “Ware wheat, ware wheat!” replied he, considering it part of the ceremony of hunting, and continued his forward course.  “Come to my side,” said Mr.——­, to the whipper-in, “and meet that gentleman as he arrives at yonder gate; and keep by him while I scold you.”—­“Now, sir, most particularly d—­n you, for riding slap-dash over the young wheat, you most confounded insensible ignorant tinker, isn’t the headland wide enough both for you and your horse, even if your spurs were