As Fate would have it, Mrs. Sandboys no sooner heard the crash and saw the legs, and recognised the pantaloons of her lord and master dangling in the interior of the conveyance, than with a scream she scrambled to his assistance. The consequence was that, with each fresh plunge of the intruding limbs, some fresh damage was done to the new lace mantilla, or white chip bonnet, that Mrs. Sandboys had purchased expressly for the occasion. And when, by the united efforts of the conductor and driver, assisted by the strongest of the male passengers, poor Sandboys was lifted out of his perilous situation, the Cumberland couple presented a most melancholy spectacle: the nether garments of the wretched Cursty were almost in the same tattered condition as when he had made his first essay in pig-driving; while the flounces, the flowers, the ribbons, and laces of his beloved Aggy were nearly as dusty and ragged-looking as cobwebs. At first, the couple felt inclined to return home, and abandon all further attempts at “enjoying themselves” as a vain and fruitless endeavour; but on second thoughts, they could hardly make up their minds, after the money they had invested in their season-tickets, to forego the opportunity of being present at a ceremony to which all the world seemed to be then flocking, eager to obtain the faintest glimpse of the show. Accordingly the lady sought out the nearest milliner’s, and the gentleman the shop of a neighbouring tailor, there to have their garments cobbled into something like decency; and after some half-hour’s delay, they once more set forth on their journey, looking as respectable and happy as was possible under the circumstances. As they neared the Exhibition, the crowd of sight-seers became more and more dense. The pathways were as black with human beings as a grocer’s window with flies in the dog-days, and the carriage-ways were filled with long lines of vehicles, jammed almost as tight as the blocks in the wood pavement. On entering the Prince of Wales Gate, dense groups of people were clustered round the south transept, clamouring and pushing their way towards the doors. Upon the top of the building were several workmen, fastening the flag-staffs of the various countries to their respective positions, while here and there were seen flying the different national ensigns. It was as much as Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys could do to force their way towards the doors. When they had passed within the gates, and the “authorities” had demanded of the couple their tickets of admission, then the unconscious Cursty drew forth the pocket-book that through all the crowd he had grasped firmly with his hand in his pocket. On opening it, to his great dismay he discovered, for the first time since his adventure, that the ticket which he had placed securely in it among his cards on the previous evening was nowhere to be found.