A hard-featured sailor, whose leg had been broken by the fall, brandished a splinter of the fractured limb, and swore--"That although his timbers were shivered, and he had lost a leg in the service, he would not be the last in the Ring, but he'd be d------d if he mount the rubbish-cart any more." It is needless to observe his leg was a wooden one.
Upon examining the inscription on the cart, it was found to contain the following words:--"Household Furniture, Building Materials, and Lumber carefully removed." As it was ascertained that no real injury had been sustained, our party speedily passed the overturned vehicle and proceeded.
The next object of attraction was a small cart drawn by one poor animal, sweating and snorting under the weight of six Swells, led by an old man, who seemed almost as incapable as his horse seemed unwilling to perform the journey.

A label on the outside of the cart intimated that its contents was soap, which created some laughter between Tom and Bob.

The man in the front, whose Jew-looking appearance attracted attention, was endeavouring to increase the speed of the conveyance by belabouring the boney rump of the _prad_{1} with his hat, while some of their pedestrian _palls_{2} were following close in the rear, and taking occasionally a _drap of the cratur_, which was handed out behind and returned after refreshment.
"These," said Tom to his Cousin, "are also men of profit, but not exactly in the way of those we passed--second-rate Swells and broken-down Gamesters, determined, as the saying is, to have a shy, even if they lose their sticks, and more properly may be termed men of plunder; desperate in their pursuits, they turn out with intent to make the best of the day, and will not fail to nibble all they can come easily at." "They are not worth the blood from a broken nose," said the Pugilist, with a feeling for the honour of his profession which did him credit.--"They are all prigs, their company 1 Prad--A cant term for a horse.
2 Palls--Partners, accomplices, colleagues.
~397~~ spoils all genteel society, and frequently brings disgrace upon others with whom they are unworthy to associate, or even to be seen--there's no getting rid of such gentry.

Is it not d------d hard a man can't have a pleasant bit of a turn-up, without having his friends filched ?--But here comes the gay fellows, here they come upon the trot, all eager and anxious to mark the first blow, start the odds, and curry the coal.{1} These are the lads of life--true lovers of the sport--up to the manouvre--clear and quick-sighted, nothing but good ones--aye aye, and here comes Bill Gibbons, furnished with the fashionables." "What do you call the fashionables ?" inquired Bob.
"Why, the Binders." Here he was as much at a loss as ever, which the other perceiving, he continued--"The Binders are the stakes and ropes, to fence in the Ring." Bill Gibbons, who was well known on the road, and was speeding down pretty sharp, was followed by crowds of vehicles of all descriptions; as many to whom the place of meeting was but conjectured, upon seeing him felt assured of being in the right track.

Here were to be seen the Swells in their tandems--the Nib Sprigs in their gigs, buggies, and dog-carts--and the Tidy Ones on their trotters, all alive and leaping.
Mirth and merriment appeared spread over every countenance, though expectation and anxiety were intermingled here and there in the features of the real lads of the fancy; many of whom, upon this very interesting occasion, had bets to a considerable amount depending upon the result of the day.