said Bob.

"It is rather a mixed one," replied Tom--"it is indeed a complete
mixture of all conditions, ranks, and orders of society. But let us take
a peep at some of them. Do you observe that stout fellow yonder, with
a stick in his hand? he has been a _Daisy-kicker_, and, by his arts and
contrivances having saved a little money, is now a regular dealer, and
may generally be seen here on selling days."

"Daisy-kicker," said Bob, "I don't comprehend the term."

"Then I will explain," was the reply. "Daisy-kickers are Ostlers
belonging to large inns, who are known to each other by that title, and
you may frequently hear them

1 Bit--A cant term for money.

2 Do--Any successful endeavour to over-reach another is by
these gentlemen call'd a do, meaning--so and so has been
done.

~163~~ask--When did you sell your Daisy-kicker or Grogham?--for these
terms are made use of among themselves as cant for a horse. Do you also
observe, he is now in close conversation with a person who he expects
will become a purchaser."

"And who is he?"

"He is no other than a common informer, though in high life; keeps his
carriage, horses, and servants--lives in the first style--he is shortly
to be made a Consul of, and perhaps an Ambassador afterwards. The first
is to all intents and purposes a Lord of Trade, and his Excellency
nothing more than a titled spy, in the same way as a Bailiff is a
follower of the law, and a man out of livery a Knight's companion or a
Nobleman's gentleman."

Their attention was at this moment attracted by the appearance of two
persons dressed in the extreme of fashion, who, upon meeting just by
them, caught eagerly hold of each other's hand, and they overheard
the following--'Why, Bill, how am you, my hearty?--where have you
been _trotting your galloper_?--what is you arter?--how's Harry and
Ben?--haven't seen you this blue moon.'{1}

'All tidy,' was the reply; 'Ben is getting better, and is going to sport
a new curricle, which is now building for him in Long Acre, as soon as
he is recovered.'

'Why what the devil's the matter with him, eh?'

'Nothing of any consequence, only he got mill'd a night or two ago about
his blowen--he had one of his ribs broke, sprained his right wrist, and
sports a _painted peeper_{2} upon the occasion, that's all.'

'Why you know he's no _bad cock_ at the Fancy, and won't put up with any
gammon.'

'No, but he was lushy, and so he got queer'd--But