Then the lover, in spite of proctors and bulldogs, tries to drive a very scratch tandem with the idea of impressing the lady of his heart for the time being.
And then the lover.
Who in scratch tandem drives a Tottie
With golden hair and jet black eyebrows.
The soldier, full of strange oaths as in Willy Shakespeare’s time, but not now bearded like a pard—vide Queen’s Regulations, sec. vii., par. 20—drives the regimental coach.
The justice stows “his fair round belly” into a brougham. A view of the said lower portion of his bosom is obtained through the window.
The lean and slippered pantaloon hides his infirmities in a bath chair.
And, last carriage of all, the hearse, in which we all take our final drive.
An economic funeral ends the list
Sans plumes, sans mutes, sans pall, sans everything.