e some prime sport, my name's not Dick, that's all.

I've bought powder and shot, and my cousin which is Shopman to my Uncle
at the corner, have lent me a couple of guns that has been 'popp'd.'
Don't mind the expense, for I've shot enough for both. Let me know by
Jim if you can cut your stick as early as nine, as I mean to have a lift
by the Highgate what starts from the Bank.

Mind, I won't take no refusal--so pitch it strong to the old 'un, and
carry your resolution nem. con.

And believe me to be, your old Crony,

RICHARD GRUBB.

P. S. The guns hasn't got them thingummy 'caps,' but that's no matter,
for cousin says them cocks won't always fight: while them as he has lent
is reg'lar good--and never misses fire nor fires amiss.

In reply to this elegant epistle, Mr. Richard Grubb was favoured with a
line from Mr. Augustus Spriggs, expressive of his unbounded delight in
having prevailed upon his governor to 'let him out;' and concluding with
a promise of meeting the coach at Moorgate.

At the appointed hour, Mr. Richard Grubb, 'armed at all points,' mounted
the stage--his hat cocked knowingly over his right eye--his gun
half-cocked and slung over his shoulder, and a real penny Cuba in his
mouth.

"A fine mornin' for sport," remarked Mr. Richard Grubb to his
fellow--passenger, a stout gentleman between fifty and sixty years of
age, with a choleric physiognomy and a fierce-looking pigtail.

"I dessay--"

"Do you hang out at Highgate?" continued the sportsman.

"Hang out?"

"Ay, are you a hinhabitant?"

"To be sure I am."

"Is there any birds thereabouts?"

"Plenty o' geese," sharply replied the old gentleman.

"Ha! ha! werry good!--but I means game;--partridges and them sort o'
birds."

"I never see any except what I've brought down."

"I on'y vish I may bring down all I see, that's all," chuckled the joyous
Mr. Grubb.

"What's the matter?"

"I don't at all like that 'ere gun."

"Lor! bless you, how timorsome you are, 'tain't loaded."

"Loaded or not loaded, it's werry unpleasant to ride with that gun o'
yours looking into one's ear so."

"Vell, don't be afeard, I'll twist it over t'other shoulder,--there! but
a gun ain't a coach, you know, vich goes off whether it's loaded or not.
Hollo! Spriggs! here you are, my boy, lord! how you are figg'd
out--didn't know you--jump up!"

"Vere's my instrument o' destruction?" enquired the lively Augustus, when
he had succeeded in mounting to his