south of Spring Street, and well out of the town. It is shut in by a high paling, built with the intention of excluding every one who does not pay for the pleasure of witnessing the game. Nature, however,—that free-handed dame,—has frustrated this precaution by providing, close to the paling, a little rocky bluff, or rise of land, not owned by the Polo Association, whose top commands a clear view over the fence; and on polo days this point of vantage is usually well filled by on-lookers of an impecunious description. There was quite a little crowd on the brow of "Deadhead Hill," as it is called, when Mrs. Joy's carriage turned in at the gates; and she glanced that way and said, "It is really too bad about that hill!" in a dissatisfied tone, as if the enjoyment of these non-subscribers jarred in some way, or interfered with the pleasure for which she herself was forced to pay a round price.
Inside the gate appeared a large railed enclosure, with a wicket at either end; and about this carriages full of gay people were
