MISERIES ENOUGH FOR THE YEAR.
To find it a rapid thaw when you have purchased a new pair of skates, and have invited a party of ladies to see your performance.
Getting soaked through, on your way to the Epping Hunt, and being told that you have only taken your share of the Easter-dews.
Driving your feet hastily into a pair of new Wellingtons, in order not to miss the train (time and boots a tight fit), and finding, by the feel, that the straps are at their bottoms;—boot-jack not to be found.
Being asked to dine, on a New-year's day, with a family, in which the children always expect presents.
Taking a box at a theatre for the express purpose of hearing the wonderful new vocalist, and finding, when you get there, only "indisposition" and a stale comedy.
Being "not at home" to an old friend, and coming downstairs, in a forgetful fit, before he has had time to leave the house.
Bowing, in your usual bland and affable manner, to a gentleman in the street, whom you recollect, as soon as he has passed, that you ought to have kicked.
"Popping the question" in a pair of tight boots; the lady seeming in no hurry, and to enjoy your agony.
Going out to be godfather, and remembering, at the proper crisis for presentation, that you must have left "the" silver cup in some omnibus.
To be interrupted while writing a Bill-et-doux, by the recollection of a bill over due.
Being asked to carve, if you are a musician or literary man.
Being compelled, in a party, to sit down to whist; and hearing your favourite part in an Italian quartet, which you had studied for a week before, sung by a murderous wretch whom you long to strangle.
Writing an appointment to a lady, and a disappointment to a tailor, and cross-directing them.
Paying your rent punctually, on quarter-day, to your landlord, and being distrained on the next day by his landlord.
Having ascertained, by a peep down your friend's area, that there is a turkey on the spit, and calling, accidentally, of course, about dinner-time, you feel rather sheepish when the cold mutton is brought up, and learn, in the course of the evening, that the kitchen fire had been lent for the dinner party of the next-door neighbour.
Abusing a person whom you have never seen, to a respectable-looking stranger, who, after apparently nodding assent, with the patience of a martyr, quietly observes that he is the man. The unpleasant anticipation of loose teeth, as you see him making up his bunch of fives.
Floored by the Leger.
VI.
Tom bets apace at Ascot race:
Ah, Tom, it's all a do!
You're backing yellow, you stupid fellow,
And look, the winner's blue!
There goes, Tom Gad, a twenty pounder
As flat, you are, as any flounder.
Starting Post.
Weary and wet, the traveller meets a post,
No Morning Post—but one of dreary night,
That looks, beside, so very like a ghost,
That he—no upstart—yet starts up in fright,
Winning Post.
And at the finger-Post his finger points,
Trembling, poor gentleman, in all his joints;
Then up comes Tom, a fellow of good heart,
And says, "I say,
That Post is meant to Herald you your way;
It is no ghost:"
Neck and Neck.
In Hamlet's play it does not take that part,
And here's a reason why you should not start—
"It's not a starting-Post."
The winning-Post—that is to say, the goal,
Vaulting ambition's route from pole to pole.
Racers.
Where, neck and neck contending, Greek meets Greek,
Leg follows leg, the strong defeat the weak,
Where score the graceful racers o'er the plain,
And the whole game is one Leger-de-main.
Hedging a Bet.
Walking over the Coarse.
Don-Caster.
Up-hill and Down-dale.