Second Ditto.—What Vintage are you?
First Ditto.—I was “Shipped” in Eighteen-fifteen.
Second Ditto.—Pooh! you’re a mere Boy. I was “Bottled” before Eighteen-hundred; and if Hounds will only run to-day you’ll find there’s some “Body” in me yet.
EVERY MAN TO HIS TASTE.
Time—The very last day of the Season.
The Honourable Joe.—Well, Jack, it’s all over now. What shall you do with yourself until the Cub-Hunting comes in? I’m going to get married, you know, and I shall travel with my wife.
Lord Jack.—Yes, Joe; you always were a slow going Chap. Now, I shall buy a couple of awfully smart Terriers, and go in for Ratting in Lincolnshire. There, what do you think o’ that?