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In a comfortable open carriage, which had
been brought to the ground by a pair of horses, might be seen Mrs.
Bungay, of Paternoster-row, attired like Solomon in all his glory, and
having by her side modest Mrs. Shandon, for whom, since the
commencement of their acquaintance, the worthy publisher's lady had
maintained a steady friendship. Bungay, having recreated himself with
a copious luncheon, was madly shying at the sticks hard by, till the
perspiration ran off his bald pate. Shandon was shambling about among
the drinking tents and gipsies: Finucane constant in attendance on the
two ladies, to whom gentlemen of their acquaintance, and connected
with the publishing house, came up to pay a visit.
Among others, Mr. Archer came up to make her his bow, and told Mrs.
Bungay who was on the course. Yonder was the prime minister: his
lordship had just told him to back Borax for the race; but Archer
thought Muffineer the better horse. He pointed out countless dukes and
grandees to the delighted Mrs.


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