In the meanwhile, the city horsemen arose with Phoebus, to mount their rosinantes, to be present at the enlargement of the stag, and were roused from their slumbers according to order by the watchmen. The motley group, that was early in the field, furnished a capital subject for the caricaturist. Carts, horses, lame mares, and refractory donkies, with their grotesque riders, covered the field, together with dandies in chaises, and the lassies from St. Giles's, Chick-lane, Wapping, and St. Catherine's, in market carts, with their sweet-hearts, considerably swelled the number of the hunters. The stag was decorated with bunches of ribbons, and seemed when enlarged much more frightened at the appearance of the Londoners, than at the hounds, his natural enemies. When the chase commenced, never was witnessed such a scene of confusion and disorder. Upset carts, and unhorsed huntsmen, were seen in all directions. The stag went off in good style, and out of hundreds of horsemen, not above a dozen were able to keep their seats, but a number of fellows were on the lurk to take care of the stray horses.
After a cursory glance at the variegated and boisterous assemblage, the stag bounded forward with the velocity of lightning, amidst the astounding shouts of the multitude, and was instantly followed by his biped and quadruped foes of indescribable diversity, from the amateur of the turf on his spirited and well caparisoned steed, to the spavined gelding, bearing its cockney rider, and numerous other annual equestrians, preceded by every description of the canine race, from the high bred beagle to the “cur of low degree.” All was tumultuous dissonance, and confusion worse confounded. Tallyho enjoyed the scene to the very acme of delight, and giving the reins to his experienced courser, high in blood, and eager for accustomed exercise, the noble animal accompanied by its companion under the guidance of Dashall, started off with unrivalled celerity, and in a few moments set all competition at defiance. Sir Felix, in an attempt to follow his friends, leaped a fence, but gaining the opposite side, horse and rider came to the ground: fortunately neither of them sustained any injury.—Sir Felix, however, on regaining his footing, found that his horse, which had gone forward, was in possession of a stranger, who losing his own, had availed himself of this opportunity of remounting, and now pursued his way bare-headed; for the wind had uncourteously uncovered his pericranium, and he abandoned his castor to its fate rather than by stopping to pick it up, risque the restitution of his prize, and the wrath of the baronet, who stood spell-bound against the fence, vociferously demanding his gelding, and extending his arm in reiterated denunciation of vengeance. The unceremonious intruder turning round on the saddle, without slackening his career.—” Bide you where you are, my fine fellow,” he provokingly exclaimed, “until the chase is over, and your gelding shall then be forthcoming.” If the sense of misfortune is alleviated by seeing it participated by others, the baronet had ample fund of consolation, for numbers around him were involved in similar calamity. He profited too, by an admirable lesson of patience under disaster. On the right of his runaway gelding, and its rider, he perceived a dismounted horseman, quietly submitting to adversity, by seating himself on a bank, while his unburthened steed pursued the chase with unabating celerity, leaving its owner to wait, at leisure, its return. Two cockney equestrians now approached, at full speed, the fence where Sir Felix still stood, in the attitude of remonstrance and irritation; and attempting the leap, one, like the baronet, gained the opposite side, but with a less successful result; for the rider was pitched over with some violence, with his heels aloft in the air, as if about to perambulate the field on his hands, while his horse came to the ground on its face and knees, suspended by its hind legs from the upper bar of the fence, and vainly essaying at extrication. The other cockney sportsman was similarly situated: his horse had not cleared the fence, neither had the rider, although he had reached the neck of his rosinante in his progress to the opposite side; in this position he assumed a permanent aspect, for his horse rested with his fore-legs over the fence, and seemed incapable of either retrograding or proceeding. These lessons taught the baronet resignation in mishap; the result of which was the return, in about an hour, of his friends Tom and Bob, to his great comfort, which was further increased by their bringing with them his gelding, having recognized the animal in the possession of a stranger, who, on their claiming it as belonging to Sir Felix O'Grady, very readily gave it up, saying, that the baronet had not forgot in the midst of his threats, frequently to announce his name, and hoping that he would excuse him for having resorted to the privilege which every person claims on this day, of taking care of the stray horses. The party now fully satisfied with the humours and disasters of the Easter Hunt, turned their steeds homewards, and journeying unimpeded, notwithstanding the throng of the road, they quickly gained town, without the occurrence of any other memorable incident.
Having reached the mansion of Dashall, Sir Felix acquainted Tallyho with the success of his mission respecting the hand, as a partner, at the Mansion-house Ball, of the august descendant of the Kings of Ulster, the sage and venerable Miss Judith Macgilligan. “O, the beautiful illustrissimo! the sweet crature” exclaimed the baronet, “with commendable care of her virgin purity, and fair unsullied fame, is tenacious of etiquette, and insists that she shall be asked with all due form and respect, (after I have introduced your Squireship to the honour of her notice) at the Mansion-house. By my conscience, I believe she is in love with your character, and no doubt will prove desperately so with your person. Faith and troth now, she is both too young and too old for matrimony; too young, because she may live to torment you these twenty years to come, which is a penance no sprightly lad should voluntarily undergo for all her fortune; and too old, being in all respects disqualified by age, for the important object of marriage, which was instituted for the procreation of children.”
“My dear sir,” rejoined the Squire, “immaculate may the lady remain in her person and property, I have no views on either.”
“By the powers of charity retract that 'stern decree,'” exclaimed the baronet, “would you break the heart of the love-sick nymph, by chilling indifference to the potency of her charms and the magnitude of her fortune? However, all joking apart, my good friends, will you do my aunt and your humble servant the honour of calling at our lodgings; we shall wait your coming and proceed together to the civic entertainment?” This was agreed to;—the baronet retired, and the two cousins having the best part of the day still before them, set out on a stroll to Tothill-fields Fair, with the view of ascertaining Real Life in Westminster, amongst the middle and lower orders of its extensive population.
Crossing St. James's Park, our two observers soon reached the scene of jollity. Here, as in all the fairs held in London, and its vicinity, was a vast assemblage of idlers, including both sexes and all ages. “They talk of the severity of the times,” said Dashall, “and the distress of the lower orders of society; I cannot say, however, that I have witnessed any semblance of distress or privation amongst such in this metropolis to the extent represented,1 in the whole course of my observation. These fairs, for instance, more properly marts of iniquity, are crammed to excess; and in pursuit of low enjoyment there appears no deficiency of pecuniary means. In all these resorts of dissipation, not only the shows are filled with spectators, but the booths and neighbouring public-houses are crowded with male and female revellers.”
The Squire acquiesced in the correctness of his friend's remark, and both coincided in opinion that the regular daily public places of amusement in the metropolis afford ample opportunity for rational recreation, independent of the continuance of fairs, which have no other tendency than facilitating the progress of licentiousness.
Dashall observed, that on the present occasion, in the midst of so much alleged distress,-the booths and shows of Tothill-fields Fair were much more extensive than in former years. “We must, however,” said he, “although the evil continues, do the Magistrates the justice to say that they have acted meritoriously in preventing the erection of those dangerous machines named round-abouts, by which, at former fairs, many serious accidents were occasioned.”
