There wos patriots playing the clown, there was magistrates playing the fool; There wos jugginses teaching the trombone to kids at a bloomin' Board School. "This is Free Hedgercation in Shindy," sez I. "They're as mad as March hares, All these Limboites, dear Miss DIANNER. We do it _much_ better downstairs!" She smiled kinder scoffish, I fancied, and give 'er white shoulders a hunch. Says she; "I've no comments to make. It's along of my friend _Mr. Punch_ Whom the whole Solar System obeys, and the Court of Olympus respects, That I wait on you 'ere, Mister ARRY. Pray what would you like to see next?" "Well," sez I, with a glance at her gaiters, "I've heard you're a whale, Miss, at Sport. Do you 'know anythink' wuth my notice?" She gave me a look of a sort, As I can't put in words, not exactly, a sort o' cold _scorch_, dontcherknow. That's a bit of a parrydocks p'raps; anyhow, it hurt wus than a blow. But we went on the fly once agen--can't say 'ow it wos managed, but soon We 'ad passed to a rum-looking region--the opposite side of the Moon, Where no mortal afore had set foot, nor yet eyes, Miss DIANNER declared. "Here's a Region of Sport!" sez the lady. Good Gracechurch Street, mate, 'ow I stared! Seemed a sort of a blend-like of Hepsom, and Goodwood, and Altcar, mixed up With the old Epping 'Unt and new Hurlingham, thoughts of the Waterloo Cup, Swell Polo and Pigeon-match tumbled about in my mind, while the din Was like Putney Reach piled on a Prizefight, with Kennington Oval chucked in. There wos toffs, fair top new 'uns, mixed hup with the welcher, the froth with the scum; There wos duchesses, proud as DIANNER, and she-things as sniffed of the slum; There was "champions" thick as bluebottles, and plungers as plenty as peas, With stoney-brokes, pale as a poultice, and "crocks," orful gone at the knees; I see a whole howling mix-up of "mug" booky, dog-owner and rough, A-watching of snaky-shaped hounds pelting 'ard 'after bits o' brown fluff, I see--and the Sportsman within me began for to bubble and burn, And I yelled, "O my hazure-horbed Mistress, can't you and me 'ave jest a turn?" We _did_, and my "Purdey Extractor" made play, though it ain't me to brag, But somehow her arrers went straighter, and 'ers wos the heaviest bag. "Let _me_ 'ave a try, Miss," sez I, "with that trifle from Lowther Arcade!" I tried, and hit one of her dogs, as she didn't think sport I'm afraid. The 'ound didn't seem much to mind it; immortal, I spose, like Miss D.; Then we 'ad a slap arter the deer, and she'd very soon nailed two or three. _I_ wos out of it, couldn't pot one, and it needled me orful, dear boy, To be licked by a gal, _though_ a goddess, and armed with a archery toy!