of receiving company gracefully and dismissing them without refreshment. I don’t wish to be too hard with him, and so let him make the most of that compliment. Well! he manages to get on, whilst Jack is hanged; not quite enviably, however; he has had his rubs, and pretty hard ones—everybody knows he slunk from Waterloo, and occasionally checks him with so doing; whilst he has been rejected by a woman—what a mortification to the low pride of which the scoundrel has plenty! There’s a song about both circumstances, which may, perhaps, ring in his ears on a dying bed. It’s a funny kind of song, set to the old tune of the Lord-Lieutenant or Deputy, and with it I will conclude my discourse, for I really think it’s past one.” The jockey then, with a very tolerable voice, sung the following song:— THE JOCKEY’S SONG. Now list to a ditty both funny and true!— Merrily moves the dance along— A ditty that tells of a coward and screw, My Lord-Lieutenant so free and young. Sir Plume, though not liking a bullet at all,— Merrily moves the dance along— Had yet resolution to go to a _ball_, My Lord-Lieutenant so free and young. “Woulez wous danser, mademoiselle?”— Merrily moves the dance along;— Said she, “Sir, to dance I should like very well,” My Lord-Lieutenant so free and young. They danc’d to the left, and they danc’d to the right,— Merrily moves the dance along;— And her troth the fair damsel bestow’d on the knight My Lord-Lieutenant so free and young. “Now, what shall I fetch you, mademoiselle?”— Merrily moves the dance along;— Said she, “Sir, an ice I should like very well,” My Lord-Lieutenant so free and young. But the ice, when he’d got it, he instantly ate,— Merrily moves the dance along;— Although his poor partner was all in a fret, My Lord-Lieutenant so free and young. He ate up the ice like a prudent young lord,— Merrily moves the dance along;— For he saw ’t was the very last ice on the board, My Lord-Lieutenant so free and young. “Now, when shall we marry?” the gentleman cried;— Merrily moves the dance along;— “Sir, get you to Jordan,” the damsel replied, My Lord-Lieutenant so free and young. “I never will wed with the pitiful elf”— Merrily moves the dance along— “Who ate up the ice which I wanted myself,” My Lord-Lieutenant so free and young. “I’d pardon your backing from red Waterloo,”— Merrily moves the dance along— “But I never will wed with a coward and screw,” My Lord-Lieutenant so free and young. CHAPTER XLIII.