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Waffles;' where was that?'
'In Leicestersheer,' replied Mr. Buckram. 'I have a haunt as lives at Mount
Sorrel; she has a little hindependence of her own, and I goes down
'casionally to see her--in fact, I believes I'm her _hare_. Well, I was
down there just at the beginnin' of the season, the 'ounds met at Kirby
Gate--a mile or two to the south, you know, on the Leicester road--it was
the fust day of the season, in fact--and there was a great crowd, and I was
one; and havin' a heye for an oss, I was struck with this one, you
understand, bein' as I thought, a 'ticklar nice 'un. Lord Bullfrog's man
was a ridin' of him, and he kept him outside the crowd, showin' off his
pints, and passin' him backwards and forwards under people's noses, to
'tract the notish of the nobs--parsecutin, what I call--and I see'd Mr.
Sponge struck--I've known Mr. Sponge many years, and a 'ticklar nice gent
he is--well, Mr. Sponge pulled hup, and said to the grum, "Who's o' that
oss?" "My Lor' Bullfrog's, sir," said the man. "He's a deuced nice 'un,"
observed Mr.


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