322

A PEEP IN PROSPECTU.

which I believe all who know him will allow, notwithstanding his extra superfine soap!

When I have the honour to meet my reader next, I hope he will not object to go with me to the stables where these pretended lady's horses were advertised. We will then see what game is playing there, and just by way of curiosity, and perhaps also of getting a wrinkle, take a look at the locality where these nonpareils of horses, "the property of a Lady," are to be seen. Now, as we do not consider ourselves yokels of the first water, but men who know something of the world's ways, we will on entering the stable cast our critical eye round, to see how far Rascal and Co. have had the tact or opportunity of putting everything in keeping with the pretty little piece of humbug they propose carrying on; for it is in the minutiae of these things this sort of gentry, acute as they are, generally fail; in fact, do not carry the thing through. Perhaps they consider that the man who sleeps with one eye open, do what they will, is not to be had; and that those who keep both on the full stretch, and yet see nothing, will not notice these little discrepancies, as some people look at a picture, which, provided the green "is bright enough, and the yellow golden enough," cannot see the want of keeping in the tout ensemble.

I conclude a something of this opinion actuates the manager and actor in our equestrian spectacles, when the attempt at the personification of a sportsman is made to give effect to the song,

"Hie-ho Chevy, this day a stag must die!" Now (by way of parenthesis) let me observe in the first place, that with gentlemen who don the pink the idea does not suggest itself that the stag must die:

66 THEY IMITATED NATURE SO ABOMINABLY." 323

in point of fact, if he is a game one, they determine that he must not die if it can be prevented. If this was not the feeling among sportsmen, I must indeed have been a glorious fool for on one occasion nearly drowning myself and horse in saving one in Virginia Water, and many no doubt will think me one for so doing. The only plea I can offer such folks in extenuation of what they term folly is, that, upon my soul, I would not have run the same risk to save them, and what is more, faithfully promise I never will.

But to return to our "Hie-ho Chevy" friend. However magnificently or classically melo-dramas may be got up now, the moment they attempt to represent a fox-hunter or jockey they utterly fail. Did ever eyes behold a man appropriately dressed as a foxhunter on any stage? Mine never have. From Hamlet to Crack in "The Turnpike Gate," as mortals; from Juno to Ganymede, as heavenly bodies - and heavenly little bodies some are who represent them (I have often wished to prove them earthly)-all are well and appropriately dressed. Then why not dress a sportsman appropriately? The non-judges would not like him the less, and the judges would be more interested. Conceive John Kemble as Coriolanus bearding the Volscians in a Chesterfield and Wellingtons!

We will suppose a fox-hunter is to come on: let me see if I can come at all near the thing by description. First, we hear the cracking of a whip in the sidescenes, quite as loud and continued, but not half as well done as that of a postilion's arriving from Marseilles or any other Continental town: then we are treated with sundry yoyks, or yikes, or yohikes, or some such unheard-of, and let us hope never-to-beheard again, sounds. Gods of hunting! what would

324

แ

THIS A TOLEDO! P'SHAW."

old Forester (whose Life has been written by THISTLEWHIPPER as we never read the life of a Foxhound written before, and I fear never may see anything of the sort written again) — what would old Forester say? Why, he would worry the bagsman

But hold hard! here he comes, while his Westminsterbridge cheer is repeated with extasy by some scores of "most sweet voices" in the gallery — (Mem. glorious English liberty this). "Tallyho! there he is!" and a pretty devil it is as a representation of one of the first flight at Ashby Pasture. Why, the very grass would look blue if it saw him there; Kirby Gate would open of itself; and Whissendine run dry to let the apparition have free escape. Now "Hie-ho Chevy," being a Stangate Street foxhunter, thinks he is acting up to the spirit of his part by putting on the look and carriage of a half and half hostler and one of the swell mob.

Then for his toggery: his coat may probably be well made that is, if he did not order it, but had sense enough to buy it second-hand in Holywell Street; if on the contrary, depend on it it will be a rum one. Why then, as poor Brummell said, "my dear fellow, do you call this thing a coat?" though, after this observation being made, he might not derive the same advantage I did from a waistcoat of mine. not pleasing this once leader of ton. I was going to dine with him: he scanned my dress all over: I conclude he thought it bearable till he saw my waistcoat. My dear fellow," says he, " you must excuse me, and let me take a liberty with you. I cannot dine and look at that waistcoat: it is a mere body-case. I should fancy old times were returned, my dinner was dressed by some wretch who cooked

and

A TILE AND A TIE.

325

when people ate roast beef. I must positively hide it." He took me to his dressing-room, and made me admissible by giving me one of his own, making mine play the part of under-vest. Poor Brummell! sic transit gloria mundi! I was quite a young one at the time, but had I been forty he would have done the same thing.

Now "Hie-ho's" hat-I did not begin with the head in this case, no matter why-if he wishes to be 66 warmint,' "he sports a shallow, a regular Jonathan, which he conceives looks like "going a-head;" or, if he thinks his friend Mr. Lutestring (who alvays ires a orse to see the Easter Monday's turn-out) knows how to do the thing, he gets the loan of his identical hunting hat; and a very smart hat indeed it is, with a full yard of inch-wide satin ribbon as a check-string.

:

His tie he thinks he must not show a white, because Dominie Sampson does in "Guy Mannering" so does Jem Robinson, but he does not know this); nor must he sport a black, because William does in "Black-eyed Susan:" he might see such a thing at Barkby Holt and other places; this he does not know either not by-the-by that I think black looks well with a hunting coat, but many first goers do: a blue or green with a white dot he could not bear, because the bird's-eye is sported by fighting men; so this must be low: he therefore takes one, relying on the taste of his Ladye love, and which quite accords with his own: he exhibits his bit of silk, a peachblossom ground, light green crossed-barred, with scarlet and blue transverse stripes. This is a tie! By George! I should tumble off if I got on a horse with it on.

Now for his waistcoat: the bare mention of a plain

326 "OH NO! WE NEVER MENTION

buff kerseymere would sicken him; a narrow stripe would annihilate him at once: no, no: his is a waistcoat-Wellington-blue satin, checked with amber and crimson stripe. This looks warm and comfortable, consequently fit for a hunting waistcoat! "Very like a whale!"

Now his unmentionables. Why things should be unmentionable that modesty causes us to wear, I know not they say ladies introduced the term- quære, what do they consider the mentionables? I must learn this. However, he wears the unmentionables— so may ever those be who manufactured them—unless positive orders were given for tourniquets for the nether parts. But the artist, knowing good stiff corduroy is not famous for its yielding properties, has very wisely left them quite easy at the knees, thus giving his customer's very much the resemblance of those of an ostrich, who is, I conceive, not celebrated for symmetry in his legs and knees: but to remedy this, a full allowance of ribbon is permitted to tighten the knee-band, leaving still sufficient to hang to the bottom of the boot-top.

Now as to tops. "Hie-ho Chevy" certainly would have sported the moveable sort, but as he never means to soil them, it is no matter. Where or how he got the boots altogether Heaven knows! there are not half-a-dozen men in London who can turn out a top-boot. He certainly did not get them of any of these; and as I trust there is but one who could make such a pair as his, I admire his indefatigability in ferretting him out. It is true the tops are as white as puttypowder and pipeclay can make them; and as the lower parts were blacked and polished off the leg, and had the finishing touch on, the polish is really good: