ginger-beer; and, as he gazed on the delicacy that was held out to him from the man's basket, he wondered how much dyspepsia—to call it by its mildest name—was compressed within the narrow limits of that two-pennyworth of paste and meat. And he thought of Dr. Wm. Brinton's clever Frazer parody of Campbell's "Hohenlinden," where the railway passengers took their hurried meal at Swindon—
When the train came at dead of night,
Commanding oil and gas to light
Much stale confectionery.
After which occurred the pangs—
Where curious tart and heavy bun
Lie in dyspeptic sympathy.
Few, few digest where many eat,
The nightmare shall wind up their feat,
Each carpet-bag beneath their feet
Shall seem a yawning sepulchre.
But, although Mr. Bouncer considered it highly probable that a like result would ensue on his patronage of the contents of the man's basket, yet, with Huz and Buz, it was a very different matter. Those intelligent animals struggled hard at the chain by which their master held them and made every outward demonstration of their desire to obtain possession of the dainty, the very whiff of which was to them so appetising. Mr. Bouncer, being tender-hearted and fond of his pets, and being, moreover, amused with the man's quaint and persistent recommendation of his viands, patronised the peripatetic refreshment-room by expending the sum of fourpence in the purchase of two mutton-pies for the express delectation of Huz and Buz; and, as he watched
