The usual inn grace—­“For what we are going to receive, the host expects to be paid",—­having been said with great feeling and earnestness, they all set to at the victuals, and little conversation passed until the removal of the cloth, when Mr. Badchild, calling upon his vice, observed that as in all probability there were gentlemen of different political and other opinions present, perhaps the best way would be to give a comprehensive toast, and so get over any debatable ground,—­he therefore proposed to drink in a bumper “The king, the queen, and all the royal family, the ministry, particularly the Master of the Horse, the Army, the Navy, the Church, the State, and after the excellent dinner they had eaten, he would include the name of the landlord of the White Hart” (great applause).  Song from Jerry Hawthorn—­“The King of the Cannibal Islands".—­The chairman then called upon the company to fill their glasses to a toast upon which there could be no difference of opinion.  “It was a sport which they all enjoyed, one that was delightful to the old and to the young, to the peer and to the peasant, and open to all.  Whatever might be the merits of other amusements, he had never yet met any man with the hardihood to deny that racing was at once the noblest and the most legitimate” (loud cheers, and thumps on the table, that set all the glasses dancing), “not only was it the noblest and most legitimate, but it was the most profitable; and where was the man of high and honourable principle who did not feel when breathing the pure atmosphere of that Heath, a lofty self-satisfaction at the thought, that though he might have left those who were near and dear to him in a less genial atmosphere, still he was not selfishly enjoying himself, without a thought for their welfare; for racing, while it brought health and vigour to the father, also brought what was dearer to the mind of a parent—­the means of promoting the happiness and prosperity of his family—­(immense cheers).  With these few observations he should simply propose ‘The Turf,’ and may we long be above it”—­(applause and, on the motion of Mr. Spring, three cheers for Mrs. Badchild and all the little Badchildren were called for and given).  When the noise had subsided.  Mr. Jorrocks very deliberately got up, amid whispers and inquiries as to who he was.  “Gentlemen,” said he, with an indignant stare, and a thump on the table, “Gentlemen, I say, in much of what has fallen from our worthy chairman, I go-in-sides, save in what he says about racing—­I insists that ’unting is the sport of sports” (immense laughter, and cries of “wot an old fool!”) “Gentlemen may laugh, but I say it’s a fact, and though I doesn’t wish to create no displeasancy whatsomever, yet I should despise myself most confoundedly—­should consider myself unworthy of the great and distinguished ’unt to which I have the honour to belong, if I sat quietly down without sticking up for the chase (laughter).—­I say, it’s one of the balances of the constitution