——­vot’s to pay, my good man? says she

——­oh——­nothink, marm, says i, as modest as a turnip new-peeld——­napps is a rig’lar racer——­i dont let im hout but i’m so fond o’ children!

——­this here Yummeree doos the bisnis prime, for the vimmen comes over the jentlum and a pus is made up for anuther race——­and in coorse i pockits the Bibs——­cos vy?——­napps is nothink but a good ’un.

’tother day hearin as there vos an hunt in the naborwood:——­napps, says i-a——­speakin to my ass——­napps ve’ll jist go and look at ’em——­

——­vell ve hadnt got no more nor a mile wen i comes slap alongside of a starch-up chap upatop of raythur a good lookin’ oss.——­but my i! vornt there bellows to mend; and he made no more vay nor a duck in a gutter.——­i says, sir, says i, dye think ve shall be in time for the hunt? but he never turns is hed but sets bolt uprite as stiff as pitch——­jist for all the world as if his mother had vashed im in starch.

——­i twigs his lean in a jiffy——­so i says says i “oh-you needn’t be so shy i rides my own hannimal,”——­

——­vich i takes it vos more nor he co’d say, for his vas nothin more nor a borrod’un and if i dont mistake he vos a vitechapler——­i think ive seed im a sarvin out svipes and blue ruin at the gin-spinners corner o’ summerset street or petticut lane——­dunno witch.

——­sam, i hates pride so i cuts his cumpny——­i says says i——­napps it dont fit you aint a nunter you’re o’ny a racer and that chaps afeard his prad vill be spiled a keeping conapny with a ass——­leastways i’m o’ the same opinyon in that respec consarning meself and——­so i shall mizzle.

——­a true gintlum as is a gintlum, sam is as difrent to these here stuck-up fellers az a sovrin is to a coronashun copper vot’s on’y gilt.

vell lie turns hof over the left and vips up his animal tryin to get up a trot——­bobbin up and down in his sturrups and bumpin hisself to make a show——­all flummery!——­he takes the middel o’ the field to hisself, and i cox my i for a houtlet and spi’s a gait——­that’s the ticket! says i; so liting the ’bacca and blowin a cloud I trots along, and had jist cum to the gait ven turnin’ round to look for the gin-spinner, blow me! sam, if i didn’t see the cove again heels over head over an edge——­like a tumler at bartlmy fare;——­vile his preshus hannimal vas a takin it cooly in the meddo!

“vat a rum chap”—­says i, a larfin reddy to bust——­“vat a rum chap to go over the ’edge that vay! ven here’s a riglar gait to ride through!”

——­and so, i druv on, but somehow, sam, i coudn’t help a thinkin’ as praps the waggerbun lead broke his nek——­stif as it vas! and so i said to napps——­“napps,”——­says i——­“lets go and look arter the warmint for charity’s-sake”

——­napps vots as good-natur’d a ass as his master, didn’t make no obstacle and so ve vent—–­

——­my i!——­sam, i’d a stood a Kervorten and three outs ad you a bin there!——­there vas my jentlum up to his nek in a duckpond——­lookin’ as miserribble as a stray o’ mutton in a batter puddin’