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Our Foreign Correspondent

           Hedidn’thearmecall,norseemeflapmyparasolinfront,andtherewewere,quitehelpless,rattlingaway,andwhirlingaroundcornersatabreakneckpace.Atlast,inmydespair,Isawalittledoorintheroof,andonpokingitopen,aredeyeappeared,andabeeryvoicesaid...

           "Now,then,mum?"

           IgavemyorderassoberlyasIcould,andslammingdownthedoor,withan"Aye,aye,mum,"themanmadehishorsewalk,asifgoingtoafuneral.Ipokedagainandsaid,"Alittlefaster,"thenoffhewent,helter-skelterasbefore,andweresignedourselvestoourfate.

           Todaywasfair,andwewenttoHydePark,closeby,forwearemorearistocraticthanwelook.TheDukeofDevonshirelivesnear.Ioftenseehisfootmenloungingatthebackgate,andtheDukeofWellington’shouseisnotfaroff.SuchsightsasIsaw,mydear!ItwasasgoodasPunch,fortherewerefatdowagersrollingaboutintheirredandyellowcoaches,withgorgeousJeamesesinsilkstockingsandvelvetcoats,upbehind,andpowderedcoachmeninfront.Smartmaids,withtherosiestchildrenIeversaw,handsomegirls,lookinghalfasleep,dandiesinqueerEnglishhatsandlavenderkidsloungingabout,andtallsoldiers,inshortredjacketsandmuffincapsstuckononeside,lookingsofunnyIlongedtosketchthem.

           RottenRowmeans‘RoutedeRoi’,ortheking’sway,butnowit’smorelikearidingschoolthananythingelse.

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