Before his marriage the hon. Member for Bullshire was a most punctual man; but now, somehow, he always turns up late, and is seldom, if ever, seen at the meet, or till hounds are running, when he will suddenly appear riding as forward as ever. When asked by his friends the reason for this strange behaviour, he merely winks and looks over towards where his estimable spouse may be seen in the far distance pounding along through the gates, followed by the faithful John with the luncheon. THE SCHOOLBOYS. For the last week parents have been receiving letters from young hopefuls, in which allusions have been made to the absolute necessity of sending by return of post some more pocket-money wherewith to liquidate sundry small accounts, and to enable him to give his friends who are "leaving this half" some presents. Most of the documents have wound up with the announcement that there are only three or four days to the holidays, and with requests that John, or Thomas, or Sam may be told to get the pony fit for them to ride. In some instances the father, or, as the "young gentleman" prefers to call him, "the governor," has been reminded of his promise to buy a new horse; and as he knows full well that unless he does so the word "peace," so far as he is concerned, may be scratched out of the dictionary, Jimmy Holden is called into council and the animal is procured. As the down-train runs into Lappington Station, four or five eager faces may be seen, one over the other, filling up the window of the railway carriage; and before the train has well stopped four or five equally eager bodies jump out; and the porters, without waiting for instructions, immediately proceed to empty the compartment of rugs, sticks, two-shilling novels, bags, and the numerous other items which invariably accompany a boy on his return from school. "There's the governor, Charlie," says a bright-looking lad to his schoolfellow, whom he has brought home with him for the first fortnight of the holidays. "How are you, Dick? and how is the pony?" exclaims another, addressing the neat-looking servant, who is evidently as pleased to see his young master as that worthy is to have put by his books for a time. "No signs of frost; we shall be out to-morrow at The Grange," shouts a third, as he disappears within the portals of the booking-office. The hero of the hour, however, is Harold Lappington, Sir John's youngest brother, a tall good-looking young fellow, who in the field is known to combine the fearlessness of youth with the knowledge of old age. He has come that morning from Eton, where he has been keeping his hand in by hunting the college beagles. Old Tom and his brother have come to meet him, and many of the other boys envy him the honour of shaking hands with so great a man as the Huntsman. "By Guy, Mayster Harold, but you are growed, looking well and all," says Tom; and then, turning to the Master: "Eh, Sir John, ay's gettin' a rare-topped 'un."