[3] With regard to this abbreviation of the family name, the following anecdote may be relied on. A stranger to Cane End inquired of an ancient inhabitant thereof where Mr. Vanderstegen lived? "Lord, Sir!" (was the answer), "I cannot tell ye, but I knows where our Mr. Van does!"--AUTHOR. [4] Report says, that the aforesaid red-nosed Bob, Screw Critchfield, and Blind Betty are the only attendants of this ancient family. Of course the text is more to be depended on than mere report. [5] This seems to be an allusion to a certain supper after a certain ball. CHORUS OF ATTENDANTS. _Red-nosed_ BOB _leader_. _Bottom_. "Where are these lads, Where are these hearts?" _Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv. sc. 2. Hail, happy day, our only holiday! Hurrah, for old Cane End! Hip, hip, hip! hurrah, hurrah, hurrah Our master's a sheriff! A sheriff, a sheriff, hurrah! Hail, happy day, our only holiday! Hurrah for Mrs. Van! Hip, hip, hip! hurrah, hurrah, hurrah Our master's a sheriff, A sheriff, a sheriff, hurrah! Hail happy day, our glorious holiday! Hurrah for the sheriff! Hip, hip, hip! hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! Our master's a sheriff, A sheriff, a sheriff, hurrah! [_Exeunt shouting and singing._ THE LAY OF THE HIGH SHERIFF. "Let's have him in a coach."--Boz. _Enter_ HIGH SHERIFF _nervous, anxious, and apparently much concerned._ Who'd be a sheriff, I should like to know, With all this fuss and bother, teasing so? These three last weeks I've not had any time To sleep in quiet, eat, or drink my wine, Though 'tis but little wine that I imbibe; 'Tis sleep I love, past all the world beside. My moments once were calm from nine at night; My dreams were pleasant and my slumbers light Till next day's noon; but now 'tis alter'd quite. O Sleep! thou loveliest of the gifts divine From God to man, would thou again were mine, To hide the visions which for ever seem Haunting my fever'd moments, of the team Of _Waddell's_[1] jaded, miserable tits, Which, ere the rail had knock'd their trade to bits, In the "Tantivy" once so gaily pranced, When _Cheeseman's_[2] bugle all our ears entranced, And _Sal'sbury_[3] work'd his then _fast-trotting_ bays, Now the sad emblems of regretted days! Of wigs and judges, barristers and ermine, Murders and felons, I can scarce determine Whether on head or heels I rightly stand, Wholly perplex'd, a very fish on land. Swords and cock'd hats, with all my other dress, O'erload my fancies and my brain oppress; Where can I get a carriage for the judge? To pay _Brown_[4] thirty _Guas_,[5] I own, I grudge; What's to be done? A coach must needs be had. A coach! but stay, the thought is none so bad, I'll think me who, of all the people near, Sport coaches, if I don't, whip me, that's clear; The first coach-sporting neighbour that I know is My best of friends, the worthy Squire Powys;