E'en from the peasant to the lord, The turkey smokes on every board, told a big un, for I'm sure none ever smokes on mine.' 'Take a little here to-day, then,' observed Mr. Springwheat, cutting deep into the white breast. 'I will,' replied his lordship, 'I will: and a slice of tongue, too,' added he. 'There are some hot sausingers comin',' observed Mr. Springwheat. 'You _don't_ say so,' replied his lordship, apparently thunderstruck at the announcement. 'Well, I must have all three. By Jove, Jack!' said he, appealing to his friend, 'but you've lit on your legs coming here. Here's a breakfast fit to set before the Queen--muffins, and crumpets, and cakes. Let me advise you to make the best use of your time, for you have but twenty minutes,' continued his lordship, looking at his watch, 'and muffins and crumpets don't come in your way every day.' ''Deed they don't,' replied Jack, with a grin. 'Will your lordship take tea or coffee?' asked Mrs. Springwheat, who had now taken her seat at the top of the table, behind a richly chased equipage for the distribution of those beverages. ''Pon my word,' replied his lordship, apparently bewildered--''pon my word, I don't know what to say. Tea or coffee? To tell you the truth, I was going to take something out of my black friend yonder,' nodding to where a French bottle like a tall bully was lifting its head above an encircling stand of liqueur-glasses. 'Suppose you have a little of what we call laced tea, my lord--tea with a dash of brandy in it?' suggested Mr. Springwheat. 'Laced tea,' repeated his lordship; 'laced tea: so I will,' said he. 'Deuced good idea--deuced good idea,' continued he, bringing the bottle and seating himself on Mrs. Springwheat's right, while his host helped him to a most plentiful plate of turkey and tongue. The table was now about full, as was the room; the guests just rolling in as they would to a public-house, and helping themselves to whatever they liked. Great was the noise of eating. As his lordship was in the full enjoyment of his plateful of meat, he happened to look up, and, the space between him and the window being clear, he saw something that caused him to drop his knife and fork and fall back in his chair as if he was shot. 'My lord's ill!' exclaimed Mr. Springwheat, who, being the only man with his nose up, was the first to perceive it. 'Clap him on the back!' shrieked Mrs. Springwheat, who considered that an infallible recipe for the ailments of children. 'Oh, Mr. Spraggon!' exclaimed both, as they rushed to his assistance, 'what is the matter with my lord?' 'Oh, that Mister something!' gasped his lordship, bending forward in his chair, and venturing another glance through the window. Sure enough, there was Sponge, in the act of dismounting from the piebald, and resigning it with becoming dignity to his trusty groom, Mr. Leather, who stood most respectfully--Parvo in hand--waiting to receive it.