This speech was greeted by a burst of ironical applause from all the occupants of the old omnibus, as well as from all others who heard it. They laughed at the speaker and chaffed him. “You change all that when you get into parliament,” sang out one. “I say! what’s your name, you jolly old soul? Is it old King Cole?” inquired another. Then all in the old omnibus sang out together: “Old King Cole was a jolly old soul, And a jolly old soul was he— He called for his bottle, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his comrades three!” “Dick, what the deuce have I said wrong? What do they mean?” inquired the General, much annoyed at finding himself the center of observation. “You have said nothing wrong, and they mean nothing offensive. It is the Derby Day! That accounts for all, don’t you see?” answered Dick, laughing. “But about the lock. They were chaffing me about _that_.” “Oh, you know that there is _now_ more than one lock at every turnpike gate. There is the legitimate lock under the charge of the keeper; and there is a lock of interlocked carriage wheels, reaching, perhaps, for ten miles along the road.” “I knew once a lock of fourteen miles long, all caused by an ill conditioned fellow in a brougham, who stopped the way at the toll-gate for twenty minutes, disputing about his change,” said the young gentleman who was seated beside the coachman on the right-hand carriage; for on this latitudinarian day English reserve was laid aside, and strangers spoke together as familiar friends. But the General’s fine barouche was the center of observation just now, and all on account of the General’s “gorilla footman,” as the Bohemians called young Jacob. Unluckily for his peace to-day, Jacob, with one of the best hearts in the world, and a tolerably good brain, possessed all the peculiar features of his race. He had the low, receding forehead, broad, flat nose, wide, full lips, and small, retiring chin, jet black skin, and crisp, woolly hair of the pure Guinea negro—all of which was likely to render him an object of great amusement to the malicious crowd, and annoyance to his master and friends. “I say, old cove, you show it free now, like the circus men do the clowns when they go in procession; but how much are you going to charge a head to see it when you get it in a booth on Epsom Heath?” called out one. “Marster!” cried Jacob, half crying and ready to swear—“Marster! only let me, and I’ll jump down and lick the lot of ’em!” “Oh, I say, fellows, it can talk!” cried another. “Let me at ’em!” begged Jacob. “Nonsense, my boy! You’d get trampled to death under the horses’ feet before you could grapple with any of them. They mean no harm. It is the Derby Day. Give them back as good as they send.” “But I haven’t got it in me,” sobbed Jake. “Oh! yes you have. Let ’em have it!”