UC-NRLF B 4 IDS 13M T C Prof. Charles A. ^ofoi< {7,A^t^ ,1. . 1 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. I It SP«5CE^ SPORTING TOUR. riiTx ^rr^x aXXTSTSjamois xt jcm osaaxm 5K3r Yfss: H Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by 8TEINGER & TOWNSEND, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New Torlj. I' EDITOR'S PREFACE. In introducing " Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour " to the acquaint- ance of my friends of the reading, as well as the riding world of America, I have a few preliminary words to say ; since, although in some respects it may be considered as a genuine sporting book, and is undoubtedly the work of a thorough and genuine sportsman, horse- man, and foxhunter, one to the manner born, and familiar with the saddle and the spur as much, at least, as with the inkhorn and the quill, it yet differs materially and widely from any volume which I have ushered, at any time, to the notice of the public, whether in the quality of editor or author. In the first place, it is not, as it does not profess to be, either a veritable description and chronicle of sports and sporting adventures in the field, combined with the natural history and habits of the animals of chase, whether pursuers or pursued, and conveying in- formation to the reader as well as maxims to the sportsman — or yet a fictitious story, embracing the same features, aspiring to convey the same sort of information, and at the same time to enlist something of the feelings of the reader, by introducing an incidental romantic interest, as of real life, somewhat analogous to that of the modern novel of society. Nothing of this sort is " Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour ; " nor at any of these objects does it aim. It is rather a series of caste pictures of the most graphic kind, of character-paintings so droll and ludicrous that, but for their inimitable verisimilitude, their perfect naturalness and the breadth of their details and force of their colorings, they !Vi.l5iy63 6 EDITOR S PREFACE. might be almost called caricatures, than a connected story, with hero, heroine, regular plot, and regular denouement. The sporting parts of the work, though, as I have observed, per- fect in their accuracy, vividness of description, keenness of observa- tion and minuteness of detail, intimating the complete acquaintance of the author with his subject, are entirely subordinate to the general effect and point of the book, and aim at amusing rather than at instruct- ing, at presenting pictures and portraits than at inculcating precepts. And both the pictures and portraits will be found equally true and lifelike as they are telling and entertaining, and in both respects equally appreciable by the fair city lady and her ladylike exquisite, and by the Die- Vernon Amazon, and the veriest Nimrod of the day. The ball-room and the club-room of the fashionable watering-place, the manoeuvring mammas and the husband-huntin'g mademoiselles, are as presentably put on the canvas, and far more frequently, and I dare to say as humorously, as the kennel and the coverside, the jolly English yeoman, and the scoundrelly English horsedealer, the blossom-nosed, fox-hunting parson, and the rude, roaring, roistering, fox-hunting peer, the field huntsman and the fancy huntsman, the seedy screw and the spendthrift baronet with his crew of third-rate, ragamuffin swells dramatic, or lastly as the matchless " Sponge" him- self ; for whom, in spite of his sponging and his screwing, his soaping of amphitryons ivUli whom one may dine to-day, his circumventing of snobs and flats q^whom one may hope to dine to-morrow, and his attempts at surrounding heiresses, with whom one may hope to wed some day or other, we cannot but confess a sneaking liking. And more we think than a sneaking liking almost he deserves, for his dauntless pluck, his matchless horsemanship, his great native hunting qualities, his warfare against flats, screws, and snobs of all kinds, the daring impudence, by which he gets out of all scrapes as fast as he gets into them, and lastly for his possession of that " one touch of nature " which is so truly said to " make the whole world kin," and which leads him, as the end of his adventures, sporting and matrimonial, to espouse the lovely and loving Lucy Glitters, though he well knows that she has not a sixpence in the world, and that he has no visible means of supporting her, only because she is such a pretty girl, such a trump, and such a rare hand to show a whole hunting field the way over a park paling. EDITOR 8 PREFACE. 7 From Mr. Waffles of Laverick Wells, to Mr. Buckram of the snug little hindepeudenee of his hown, from the am-a-aziu' specimen of a pop'lar man, Mr. Puffington, to my Lord Scaraperdale blubber- ing over the untimely parted corpse of Jack Spraggon, because he may never hope to find again " so fine a natural bb-blackguard," from Jawleyford of Jawleyford Court, to Facey Romford and Farmer Springwheat, from the fashionable fair of the pump-rooms and ball- rooms of Laverick Wells, to my Lady Scattercash, nee Miss Spangle, Miss Harriet Howard alias Jane Brown, and beautiful, brave Lucy Glitters, with whom a better fellow than our friend Soapey Sponge might have wedded without derogation, the reader, whoever he or she may be, will not find one character, high or low, good or bad, but is painted to the very life, as, at some time, and in some place or other — with the sole exception, perhaps, of Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey — I myself can avouch, that I have seen them. Much farther than this your deponent sayeth not, but this he will say- That if there is some low life, there are no low thoughts, nothing offensive or hurtful to the feelings, much less prejudicial or seductive to the minds of the purest and most refined. If there be not much wisdom, I will be content to bear the blame if there be not found much wit, much keen comprehension of the world, and much scathing satire of all that is low, mean, dirty and degrading, in the Sporting Tour of Mr. Soapey Sponge. I will only add, that if my friends, to whom I recommend him, derive as much pleasure as I have done, from his companionship, I shall look to them for thanks, neither small nor stinted, for my intro- duction, not for a. cold shoulder, much less for censure. Frank Forester. The Cedars. January 1, 1856. CONTENTS. PACE OUR nEKO, ■ , . . . 13 Jin. BEXJAMIX BUCKRAM, 17 PETER LEATHER, 21 LAVEKICK WELLS, , . 28 MR. WAFFLES, , , , . 31 LATERICK WELLS, 37 OUR HERO ARRIVES AT LAVERIOK WELLS, 41 OLD TOM TOWLER, 46 THE MEET THE FIND, AND THE FINISH, 50 THE FEELER, 63 THE DEAL, AND THE DISASTER, C7 AN OLD FRIEND, 70 A NEW SCHEME, 78 JAWLETFORD COURT, '83 THE JAWLETFORD ESTABLISHMENT, 87 THE DINNER, 92 THE TEA, 95 THE evening's REFLECTIONS, 98 THE WET DAT, 101 THE F. H. H., 109 A COUNTRY DINNER-PARTY, 115 THE F. H. n. AGAIN, , , . 124 THE GREAT RUN, 131 LORD 8CAMPERDALE AT HOME, 142 MR. SPRAGGON's EMBASSY TO JAWLETFORD COURT, .... 149 MR. AND MRS. SPRINGWHEAT, 168 THE FINEST RUN THAT EVER WAS SEEN !....•.. 177 THE FAITHFUL GROOM, 182 THE CROSS-ROADS AT DALLINOTON BURN, 187 BOLTING THE BADGER, 193 MR. PUFFINGTON ; OR THE YOUNG MAN ABOUT TOWN, . . . 198 10 CONTENTS. PAOS THE MAX OF P-E-O-E-PERTT, . 203 A SWELL nUNTSMAN, 207 THE BEAUFOET JUSTICE, 212 LORD SCAMPERDALE AT JAWLETFORD COURT, .... 217 MR. BRAGg's KENNEL MANAGEMENT, 223 MR. PUFFINGTOn's DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS, .... 226 A DAY WITH PUFFINGTOn's HOUNDS, 231 WRITING A RUN, 238 A LITERARY BLOOMER, 249 A DINNER AND A DEAL, . . . . . . . . 252 TnE morning's REFLECTIONS, 263 ANOTHER sick HOST, 268 ■WANTED A RICH GODPAPA ! 272 THE DISCOMFITED DIPLOMATIST, 277 PUDDINGPOTE BOWER, THE SEAT OF JOGGLEBURT CROWDET, ESQ., . 285 A FAMILY BREAKFAST ON A HUNTING MORNING, .... 292 HUNTING THE HOUNDS, 300 COUNTRY QUARTERS, 304 SIR HARRY SCATTERCASh's HOUNDS, 308 FARMER PEASTRAW's DINE MATInIe, . . . . \ . 318 A MOONLIGHT RIDE, 328 PUDDINGPOTE BOWER, 330 FAMILY JARS, 334 THE TRIGGER, . . . . , 339 NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN, 345 THE DEBATE, 354 FACEY ROMFORD, . - 57 THE ADJOURNED DEBATE, 363 FACEY ROMFORD AT HOME, 365 NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN, 373 A FAMILY BREAKFAST, 376 THE RISING GENERATION, 378 THE KENNEL AND THE STUD, 386 THE HUNT, 391 Mr. SPONGE AT HOME, 404 now THEY GOT UP THE " GRAND ARISTOCRATIC STEKPLB-OnASE," . 405 now THE " GRAND ARISTOCRATIC " CAME OFF, 410 HOW OTHER THINGS CAME OFF, 420 HOW LORD SCAMPERDALE AND CO. CAME OFF, ..... 422 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. -MR. SPONGE DECLARES niMSELF, Frontispiece. MR. SPONGE AT JAWI.EYFORD COURT, pp. 73 ~ " ^ ONE OF MTLTDM-IX-PARVO'S " GOING " DATS, .... 147 -\ MR. SPONGE AT FARMER SPRINGWHEAT's. HORROR OF LORD SCAMPER- DALE, 219 '" ME. SPONGE ARRIVES AT SIR HAERT's, 291 LUCY GLITTERS SHOWING THE WAT, 363 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. CHAPTER I. OUR HERO. It was a murky October day that the hero of our tale, Mr. Sponge, or Soapey Sponge, as his good-natured friends call him, was seen mizzling along Oxford Street, wending his way to the "West. Not that there was anything unusual in Sponge being seen in Oxford Street, for when in town his daily perambulations consist of a circuit, commencing from the Bantam Hotel in Bond Street into Piccadilly, through Leicester Square, and so on to Aldridge's, in St. Martin's Lane, thence by Moore's sporting-print-shop, and on through some of those ambiguous and tortuous streets that, appearing to lead all ways at once and none in particular, land the explorer, sooner or later, on the south side of Oxford Street. Oxford Street acts to the north part of London what the Strand does to the south ; it is sure to bring one up, sooner or later. A man can hardly get over either of them without knowing it. Well, Soapey having got into Oxford Street, would make his way at a squarey, in-kneed, duck-tood, sort of pace, regulated by the bonnets, the vehicles, and the equestrians he met to criticise ; for of women, vehicles, and horses, he had voted himself a consummate judo'e. Indeed he had fully established in his own mind that Kiddey Downey and he were the only men in London who really knew anything about horses, and fully impressed with that conviction, he would halt, and stand, and stare, in a way that with any other man would have been considered impertinent. Perhaps it was impertinent in Soapey — we don't mean to say it wasn't — but he had done it so long, and was of so sporting a gait and cut, that he felt himself somewhat privileged. Moreover, the majority of horsemen are so satisfied with the animals they bestride, that they cock up their jibs and ride along with a " find any fault with either me or my horse, if you can." sort of air. l^V' ' ;,'• *>■ '. , • -KR, '.sfckge'b sporting toije. Thus Mr. Sponge proceeded leisurely alorg, now nodding to this man, now jerking his elbow to that, now smilirg on a phaeton, now sneering at a 'bus. If he did not look in at Shackell's, or Bartley's, or any of the dealers on the line, he was always to be found about half-past five at Cumberland Gate, from whence he would strike leisurely down the Park, ard after coming to a long check at Eotten Row rails, from whence he would pass all Ihe cavalry in the Park in review, he would wend his way back to the Bantam, much in the style he had come. This was his summer proceedirg. Mr. Sponge had pursued this enterprising life for some "seasons" — ten at least — and supposing him to have begun at twenty or one- and-twenty, he would be about thirty at the time we have the plea- sure of introducing him to our readers — a period of life at which men begin to suspect they were not quite so wise at twenty as they thought. Not that Mr. Sponge had any particular indiscretions to reflect upon, for he was tolerably sharp, but he felt that he might have made better use of his time, which may be shortly described as having been spent in hunting all the winter, and in talking about it all the summer. With this popular sport he combined the diver' sion of fortune-hunting, though we are concerned to say that his success, up to the period of our introduction, had not been commen- surate with his deserts. Let us, however, hope that brighter days are about to dawn upon him. Having now introduced our hero to our male and female friends, under his interesting pursuits of fox and fortune-hunter, it becomes us to say a few words as to his qualifications for carrying them on. Mr. Sponge was a good-looking, rather vulgar-looking man. At a distance — say ten yards — his height, figure, and carriage gave him somewhat of a commanding appearance, but this was rather marred by a jerky, twitchy, uneasy sort of air, that too plainly showed he was not the natural, or what the lower orders call the real gentle- man. Not that Sponge was shy. Far from it. He never hesitated about offering to a lady, after a three days' acquaintance, or in asking a gentleman to take him a horse in over night, -with whom he might chaace to come in contact in the hunting-iicld. And he did it all in such a cool, oflf-hand, matter-of-course sort of way, that people who would have stared with astonishment if anybody else had hinted at such a proposal, really seemed to come into the humour and spirit of the thing, and to look upon it rather as a matter of course than otherwise. Then his dexterity in getting into people's houses was only equalled by the difiiculty of getting him out again, but this we must waive for the present in favour of his portraiture. In height, Mr. Sponge was above the middle size — five feet eleven or so — with a well borne up, not badly shaped, closely cropped oval head, a tolerably good, but somewhat receding forehead, bright hazel eyes, Roman nose, with carefully tended whiskers, reaching the cor- s MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 15 ners of a well-formed mouth, and thence descending in semicircles into a vast expanse of hair beneath the chin. Having mentioned Mr. Sponge's groomy gait and horsey propen- sities, it were almost needless to say that his dress was in the sporting style — you saw what he was by his clothes. Every article seemed to be made to defy the utmost rigour of the elements. His hat (Lincoln and Bennett) was hard and heavy. It sounded upon an entrance-hall table like a drum. A little magical loop in the lining explained the cause of its weight. Somehow, his hats were never either old or new — not that he bought them second-hand, but when he got a new one he took its "long coat" off, as he called it, with a singeing lamp, and made it look as if it had undergone a few proba- tionary showers. "When a good London hat recedes to a certain point, it gets no worse ; it is not like a country -made thing that keeps going and going until it declines into a thing with no sort of resemblance to its original self Barring its weight and hardness, the Sponge hat had no particular character apart from the Sponge head. It was not one of those punty ovals or Cheshire-cheese flats, or curly-sided things that enables one to say who is in a house and who is not, by a glance at the hats in the entrance ; but it was just a quiet, round hat, without anything remarkable, either in the binding, the lining, or the band, but still it was a very becoming hat when Sponge had it on. There is a great deal of character in hats. We have seen hats that bring the owners to the recollection far more forcibly than the generality of portraits. But to our hero. That there may be a dandified simplicity in dress, is exemplified every day by our friends the Quakers, who adorn their beautiful brown Saxony coats with little inside velvet collars and fancy silk buttons, and even the severe order of sporting costume adopted by our friend Mr. Sponge, is not devoid of capability in the way of tasteful adaptation. This Mr. Sponge chiefly showed in promoting a resemblance between his neckcloths and waistcoats. Thus, if he wore a cream-coloured cravat, he would have a buff-coloured waist- coat ; if a striped waistcoat, then the stavcher would be imbued with somewhat of the same colour and pattern. The ties of these varied with their texture. The silk ones terminated in a sort of coaching fold, and were secured by a golden fox-head pin, while the striped starchers, with, the aid of a pin on each side, just made a neat, un- pretending tie in the middle, a sort of miniature of the flagrant, fly- away, ?«Iile-End ones of aspiring youth of the present day. His coats were of the single-breasted cut-away order, with pockets out- side, and generally either Oxford mixture or some dark colour, that required you to place him in a favourable light to say what it was. His waistcoats, of course, were of the most correct form and material, generally either pale buff, or buff with a narrow stripe, 16 MH. sponge's sporting tour. similar to the undress vests of the servants of tlic Royal Family, only with the pattern run across instead of lengthways, as thoio worthies mostly have theirs, and n\ade with good honest step collars, instead of the make-believe roll collars they sometimes convert their upright ones into. Whou in deep thought, calculating, perhaps, the value of a passing horse, or considering v/hether he should have beef- steaks or lamb chops for dinner, Sponge's thumbs would rest in the arm-holes of his waistcoat; in which easy, but uot very elegant, atti- tude, he would sometimes stand until all trace of the idea that ele- vated them had passed away from his mind. In the trouscr Hue he adhered to the close-fitting costume of former days ; and many were the trials, the casings, and the alterings, ei'e he got a pair exactly to his mind. Many were the customers who turned away ou seeing his manly figure filling the swing mirror in " Snip and Snciders'," a monopoly tliat some tradesmen might object to, only Mr. Sponge's trousers being admitted to be perfect " triumphs of the art," the more such a walking advertisement was seen in the shop tlio better. Indeed, we believe it would have been worth Snip & Co.'s while to have lot him have them for nothing. They were easy without being tight, or rather they looked tight without being so ; there wasn't a bag, a wrinkle, or a crease that there sliouldn't be, and strong and storm-defying as they seemed, they were yet as soft and as supple as a lady's glove. Tliey looked more as if his legs had been blown in them than as if such irre- proachable garments were the work of man's hands. IMany were the midges, and many the " look at this chap's trousers," that were given by ambitious meu emulous of his appearance as he passed along, and many were the turnings round to examine their foultless fall upon bis radiant boot. The boots, perhaps, might come in for a little of the glory, for they were beautifully soft and cool-looking to the foot, easy without being loose, and he preserved the lusti'e of their polish, even up to tlie last moment of his walk. There never was a better man for getting through dirt, either on foot or horseback, than our friend . To the frequeuters of the " corner," it were almost superfluous to mention tliat he is a constant attendant. He has several volumes of " catalogues," with the prices the horses luive brought fict dowu in the margins, and has a rare knack at recognising old friends, altered, disguised, or disfigured as they may be — " I've seen that rip before," he will say, with a knowing shake of the head, as some woe- begone devil goes, best leg foremost, up to the hammer, or, *' What! is that old beast back'? why he's here every day." No man can impose upon Soapey with a horse. He can detect tlic rough-coated plausibilities of the straw-3'ard, ei]ually with the metamorpliosis of the clipper or singer. His practised eye is not to be imposed upon either by the blandishments of the bang-tail, or the bereavements of MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 17 tho dock. Tattersall will hail him from his rostrum with — " Here's a horse will suit you, Mr. Sponge! cheap, good, and handsome! come and buy him." But it is needless describing him here, for every out-of-place groom aud dog-stealer's man knows him by sight. CHAPTER II. MR. BENJAMIN BUCKRAM. Having dressed and sufficiently described our hero, to enable our readers to form a general idea of the man, we have now to request them to return to the day of our introduction. Mr. Sponge had gone along Oxford Street at a somewhat improved pace to his usual wont — had paused for a shorter period in the '"bus" perplexed "Circus," and pulled up seldomer than usual between the Circus and the limits of his stroll. Behold him now at the Edgeware road end, eyeing the 'busses with a wauting-a-ride like air, instead of the contemptuous sneer he generally adopts towards those uncouth productions. Red, green, blue, drab, cinnamon-colour, passed and crossed, and jostled, and stopped, and blocked, and the cads telegraphed, and winked, and nodded, and smiled, and slanged, but Mr. Sponge regarded them not. He had a sort of "'bus" panorama in his head, knew the run of them all, whence they started, where they stopped, where they watered, where they changed, and, wonderful to relate, had never been entrapped into a sixpenny fare when he meant to take a three- penny one. In cab and " 'bus" geography there is not a more learned man in London. Mark him as he stands at the corner. He sees what he wants, it's the chequered one with the red and blue wheels that the Bayswater ones have got between them, and that the St. John's Wood and two Western Railway ones are trying to get into trouble by crossing. What a row ! how the ruffians whip, and stamp, and storm, and all but pick each other's horses' teeth with their poles, how the cads ges- ticulate, aud the passengers imprecate ! now the bonnets are out of the windows, and the row increases. Six coachmen cutting and storming, six cads sawing the air, sixteen ladies in flowers screaming, six-aiid-twenty sturdy passengers swearing they will " fine them all," and Mr. Sponge is the only cool person in the scene. lie doesn't rush into the throng and " jump in," for fear the 'bus should extricate itself and drive on without hiin ; he doesn't make confusion worse confounded by intimating his behest; he doesn't soil his bright boots by stepping oflf tho curb-stone ,• but, quietly waiting tho evaporation 18 MR. srONGK's SrORTlNG TOUR. of the steam, and the disentanglement of the vehicles, by the smallest possible sign in the world, given at the opportune moment, and a steady adhesion to the flags, the 'bus is obliged either to " come to," or lose the fare, and he steps quietly in, and squeezes along to the far end, as though intent on going the whole hog of the journey. Away they rumble up the Edgeware Road ; the gradual emer- gence from the brick and mortar of London being marked as well by the telling out of passengers as by the increasing distances between the houses. First, it is all close huddle with both. Austere iron railings guard the subterranean kitchen areas, and austere looks indi- cate a desire on the part of the passengers to guard their own pockets ; gradually little gardens usurp the places of the cramped areas, and, with their humanising appearance, softer looks assume the place of frowning aw/i-swell-mob ones. Presently a glimpse of green country or of distant hills may be caught between the wider spaces of the houses, and frequent settings down increase the space between the passengers ; gradually conserva- tories appear, and conversation strikes up ; then come the exclusive- ness of villas, some detached and others running out at last into real pure green fields studded with trees and picturesque pot-houses, before one of which latter a sudden wheel round and a jerk announces the journey done. The last passenger (if there is one) is then uncere- moniously turned loose upon the country. Our readers will have the kindness to suppose our hero, Mr. Sponge, shot out of an omnibus at the sign of the Cat and Com- passes, in the full rurality of grass country, sprinkled with fallows and turnip-fields. We should state that this unwonted journey was a desire to pay a visit to Mr. Benjamin Buckram, the horse-dealer's farm at Scampley, distant some mile and a half from where he was set down, a space that he now purposed travelling on foot. Mr. Benjamin Buckram was a small horse-dealer, — small, at least, when he was buying, though great when he was selling. It would do a youngster good to see Ben filling the two capacities. Ke dealt in second hand, tliat is to say, past mark of mouth horses ; but on the present occasion Mr. Sponge sought his services in the cajiacity of a letter rather tlian a seller of horses. Mr. Sponge wanted to job a couple of plausible-looking horses, with the option of buying them, provided he (Mr. Sponge) could sell them for more thnu he would have to give Mr., Buckram, exclusive of the hire. Mr. Buckram's job price, we should say, was as near twelve pounds a month, con- taining twenty-eight days, as he could screw, the hirer, of course, keeping the animals. Scampley is one of those pretty little suburban farms, peculiar to the north and northwest side of London — farms varying from fifty to a hundred acres of well-manured, gravelly soil ; each form with' its picturesque little buildings, consisting of small, honcy-sucklcd, roso- MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 19 entwined brick-houses, with small, flat, pan-tiled roofs, and lattice- windows ; and, hard by, a large hay-stack, three times the size of the house, or a desolate barn, half as big as all the rest of the buildings. From the smallness of the holdings, the farm-houses are dotted about as thickly, and at such varying distances from the roads, as to look like inferior " villas" falling out of rank ; most of them have a half- smart, half-seedy sort of look. The rustics who cultivate them, or rather look after them, are neither exactly town nor country. They have the clownish dress and boorish gait of the regular " chaws," with a good deal of the quick, suspicious, sour sauciuess of the low London resident. If you can get an answer from them at all, it is generally delivered in such a way as to show that the answerer thinks you are what they call " chaffing them," asking them what you know. These farms serve the double purpose of purveyors to the London stables, and hospitals for sick, overworked, or unsaleable horses. All the great job-masters and horse-dealers have these retreats in the country, and the smaller ones pretend to have, from whence, in due course, they can draw any sort of an animal a customer may want, just as little cellarless wine-merchants can get you any sort of wine from real establishments — if you only give them time. There was a good deal of mystery about Seampley. It was some- times in the hands of Mr. Benjamin Buckram, sometimes in the hands of his assignees, sometimes in those of his cousin Abraham Brown, and sometimes John Doe and Richard Roe were the occu- pants of it. Mr. Benjamin Buckram, though very far from being one, had the advantage of looking like a respectable man. There was a certain plump, well-fed rosiucss about him, which, aided by a bright- coloured dress, joined to a continual fumble in the pockets of his drab trousers, gave him the air of a " well-to-do-in-the-world " sort of man. Moreover, he sported a velvet collar to his blue coat, a more imposing ornament than it appears at first sight. To be sure, there are two sorts of velvet collars — the legitimate velvet collar, commencing with the coat, and the adopted velvet collar, put on when the cloth one gets shabby. Buckram's was always the legitimate velvet collar, new from the first, and, we really believe, a permanent velvet collar, adhered to in storm and in sunshine, has a very money-making impression on the world. It shows a spirit superior to feelings of paltry economy, and we think a person would be much more excusable for being victimised by a man with a good velvet collar to his coat, than by one exhibit- ing that spurious sign of gentility — a horse and gig. The reader will now have the kindnc^ to consider Mr. Sponge arriving at Seampley. " Ah, ]Mr. Sponge ! " exclaimed Mr. Buckram, who, having seen our friend advancing up the little twisting approach from the road to 20 MR. sponge's sporting tour. liis house tlirougli a little square window almost blinded with Irish ivy, out of which he was in the habit of contemplating the arrival of his occasional lodgers, Doe and Roe, " Ah, Mr. Sponge ! " exclaimed he, with well-assumed gaiety ; " you should have been here yesterday ; sent away two sich osses — perfect 'unters — the werry best I do think I ever saw in my life ; either would have bin the werry oss for your money. But come in, Mr. Sponge, sir, come in," continued he, back- ing himself through a little sentry-box of a green portico, to a narroAV passage which branched off into little rooms on either side. As Buckram made this retrograde movement, he gave a gentle pull to the wooden handle of an old-fashioned wire bell-pull, in the midst of buggy, four-in-hand, and other whips, hanging in the entrance, a touch that was acknowledged by a single tinkle of the bell in the stable-yard. They then entered the little room on the right, whose walls were decorated with various sporting prints, chiefly illustrative of steeple- chaces, with here and there a stunted fox-brush, tossing about as a duster. The ill-ventilated room reeked with the effluvia of stale smoke, and the faded green baize of a little round table in the centre was covered with filbert-shells and empty ale-glasses. The whole furniture of the room wasn't worth five pounds. Mr. Sponge, being now on the dealing tack, commenced in the poverty-stricken strain adapted to the occasion. Having deposited his hat on the floor, taken his left leg up to nurse, and given his hair a backward rub with his right hand, he thus commenced : " Now, Buckram," said he, " I'll tell you how it is. I'm deuced hard up, — regularly in Short's Gardens. I lost eighteen 'undred on the Derby, and seven on the Leger, the best part of my year's income, indeed; and I just want to hire two or three horses for the season, with the option of buying, if I like ; and if you supply me well, I may be the means of bringing grist to your mill ; yoa twig, eh ? " " Well, Mr. Sponge," replied Buckram, sliding several consecu- tive half-crowns down the incline plane of his pocket. " Well, Mr. Sponge, I shall be happy to do my. best for you. I wish you'd come yesterday, though, as I said before, I jest had two of the neatest nags — a bay and a grey — not that colour makes any matter to a judge like you ; there's no sounder sayin' than that a good oss is not never of a bad colour; only to a young gemman, you know, it's well to have 'em smart, and the ticket, in short ; howsomever, I must do the best I can for you, and if there's nothin' in that tickles your fancy, why, you must give me a few days to see if I can arrange an exchange with some other gent ; but the present is like to be a werry haggiwatin' season; had more happlications for osses nor ever I remembers, and I've been a dealer now, man and boy, turned of eight-and-thirty years ; but young gents is whimsical, and it was a young'un Avot got these, and there's no sayin' but he mayn't like them — indeed, one's MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 21 rayther difficult to ride, — that's to say, the grey, the neatest of the two, and he may come back, and if so, you shall have him; and a safer, sweeter oss was never seen, or one more like to do credit to a gent : but you knows what an oss is, Mr. Sponge, and can do justice to me, and I should like to put summut good into your hands — iliat I should." AVith conversation, or rather with balderdash, sucli as this, Mr. Buckram beguiled the few minutes necessary for removing the band- ages, hiding the bottles, and stirring up the cripples about to be ex- amined, and the heavy flap of the coach-house door announcing that all was ready, he forthwith led the way through a door in the brick wall into a little three-sides of a square yard, formed of stables and loose boxes, with a dilapidated dove-cote above a pump in the centre; Mr. Buckram, not growing corn, could afford to keep pigeons. CHAPTEE III. PETER LEATHER. Nothing bespeaks the character of a dealer's trade more than the servants and hangers-on of the establishment. The civiler in manner, and the better they are " put on," the higher the standing of the master, and the better the stamp of the horses. Those about Mr. Buckram's were of a very shady order. Dirty- shirted, sloggering, baggy-breeched, slangey-gaitered fellows, with the word " gin " indelibly imprinted on their faces. Peter Leather, the head man, was one of the fallen angels of servitude. He had once driven a Duke — the Duke of Dazzleton — having nothing whatever to do but dress himself and climb into his well-indented richly-fringed throne, with a helper at each horse's head to " let go " at a nod from his broad laced three-cornered hat. Then having got in his cargo (or rubbish, as he used to call them), he would start off at a pace that was truly terrific, cutting out this vehicle, shooting past that, all but grazing a third, anathematising the 'busses, and abusing the draymen. We don't know how he might be with the queen, but he certainly drove as though he thought nobody had any business in the street while the Duchess of Dazzleton wanted it. The Duchess liked going fast, and Peter accommodated her. The duke jobbed his horses and didn't care about pace, and so things might have gone on very com- fortably, if. Peter one afternoon hadn't run his pole into the panel of a very plain but very neat yellow barouche, passing the end of New Bond-street, which having nothing but a simple crest — a stag's head 22 MR. sponge's sporting tour. on the panel — made him think it belonged to some bulky cit, taking the air with his rib, but who, imfortunatelj, turned out to be no less a person than Sir Giles Nabem, Knight, the great police magistrate, upon one of whose myrmidons in plain clothes, who came to the rescue, Peter committed a most violent assault, for which unlucky casualty his worship furnished him with rotatory occupation for his fat calves in the " H. of C," as the clerk shortly designated the House of Correction. Thither Peter went, and in lieu of his lace-bedaubed coat, gold-gartered plushes, stockings, and buckled shoes, he was dressed up in a suit of tight-fitting yellow and black-striped worsteds, that gave him the appearance of a wasp without wings. Peter Leather then tumbled regularly down the staircase of servitude, the greatness of his fall being occasionally broken by landing in some inferior place. From the Duke of Dazzleton's, or- rather from the treadmill, he went to the Marquis of Mammon, whom he very soon left because he wouldn't wear a second-hand wig. Prom the marquis he got hired to the great Irish Earl of Coarsegab, who expected him to wash the carriage, wait at table, and do other incidentals never contemplated by a London coachman. Peter threw this place up with indignation on being told to take the letters to the post. He then lived on his " means " for a while, a thing that is much finer in theory than in practice, and having about exhausted his substance and placed the bulk of his apparel in safe keeping, he condescended to take a place as job coachman in a livery-stable — a " horses let by the hour, day, or month " one, in which he enacted as many charac- ters, at least made as many different appearances, as the late Mr. Matthews used to do in his celebrated "At Homes." One day Peter would be seen ducking under the mews' entrance in one of those greasy, painfully well-brushed hats, the certain precursors of soiled linen and seedy, most seedy-covered buttoned coats, that would j)uzzle a conjuror to say whether they were black, or grey, or olive, or invis- ible green turned visible brown. Then another day he might be seen in old Mrs. Gadabout's sky-blue livery, with a tarnished, gold-laced hat, nodding over his nose; and on a third he would shine forth in Mrs. Major-General Flareup's cockaded one, with a worsted shoulder- knot, and a much over-daubed light drab livery coat, with crimson inexpressibles, so tight as to astonish a beholder how he ever got into them. Humiliation, however, has its limits as well as other things; and Peter having been invited to descend from his box — alas ! a regular country patent leather one, and invest himself in a Quaker- collared blue coat, with a red vest, and a pair of blue trousers with a broad red stripe down the sides, to drive the Honourable old Miss Wriukleton, of Harley-street, to Court in a " one oss pianoforte-case," as he called a Chircnce, he could stand it no longer, and, chucking the nether garments iato the fire, he rushed frantically up the area- steps, mounted his box, and quilted the old crocodile of a horse all MS. sponge's sportino tour. - 23 the way home, accompanying each cut with an imprecation such as " me make a guy of myself!" (whip) '* me put on sich things ! " (whip, whip) "we drive down Sin Jimses-strect ! " (whip, whip, whip), " /'(i see her fust !" (whip, whip, Avhip), cutting at the old horse just as if he was laying it into Miss Wrinkleton, so that by the time he got home he had established a considerable lather on the old nag, which his master resenting, a row ensued, the sequel of which may readily be imagined. After assisting Mrs. Clearstarch, the Kilburn laundress, in getting in and taking out her washing, for a few weeks, chance at last lauded him at Mr. Benjamin Buckram's, from whence he is now about to be removed to become our hero Mr. Spouge's Sancho Panza, in his fox-hunting, fortune-hunting career, and dissem- inate in remote parts his doctrines of the real honour and dignity of servitude. Now to the inspection. Peter Leather, having a peep-hole as well as his master, on seeing Mr. Sponge arrive, had given himself an extra rub over, and covered his dirty shirt with a clean, well-tied, white kerchief, and a whole col- oured scarlet waistcoat, late the property of one of his noble emploj^ers, in hopes that Sponge's visit might lead to something. Peter was about sick of the suburbs, and thought, of course, that he couldn't be worse off than where he was. " Here's Mr. Sponge wants some osses," observed Mr. Buckram, as Leather met them in the middle of the little yard, and brought his right arm round with a sort of military swing to his forehead ; " what 'ave we in ? " continued Buckram, with the air of a man with so many horses that he didn't know what were in and what v/ere out. " Vy we 'ave Rumbleton in," replied Leather thoughtfully, strok- ing down his hair as he spoke, " and we 'ave Jack o'Lanthorn in, and we 'ave the Camel in, and there's the little Hirish oss with the sprig tail — Jack-a-Dandy, as I calls him, and the Flyer will be in to-night, he's jest out a hairing, as it were, with old Mr. Callipash." " Ah, Rumbleton won't do for Mr. Sponge," observed Buckram, thoughtfully, at the same time letting go a tremendous avalanche of silver down his trouser pocket, " Rumbleton won't do," repeated he, " nor Jack-a-Dandy nouther." " Why, I wouldn't commend neither on 'em," replied Peter, taking his cue from his master, " only ven you axes me vot there's in, you knows vy I must give you a cor-rect answer, in course." " In course," nodded Buckram. Leather and Buckram had a good understanding in the lying line, and had fallen into a sort of tacit arrangement, that if the former was staunch about the horses he was at liberty to make the best terms he could for himself. Whatever Buckram said. Leather swore to, and they had established certain signals and expressions that each un- derstood. 24 - MR. sponge's sportikg tour. " I've an unkimmon nice oss," at length observed Mr. Buckram, "with a scrutinising glance at Sponge, " and an oss in bevery respect ■werrj like your work, but he's an oss, I'll candidly state, I wouldi't put in every one's 'ands, for, in the fust place, he's wery Avaiueous, and in the second, he requires an ossman to ride ; howsomever, as I knows that you can ride, and if you doesn't mind taking my 'ead man," jerking his elbow at Leather, " to look arter him, I wouldn't mind 'commodatin' on you, pi-ouidcd we can 'gree upon terms." " Well, let's see him," interrupted Sponge, " and we can talk about terms after." " Certainly, sir, certainly," replied Buckram, again letting loose a re-accumulated rush of silver down his pocket. " Here, Tom ! Joe ! Harry ! where's Sam ? " giving the little tinkler of a bell a pull as he spoke. " Sam be in the straw 'ouse," replied Leather, passing through a stable into a wooden projection beyond, where the gentleman in ques- tion was enjoying a nap. " Sam ! " said he, " Sam ! " repeated he, in a louder tone, as he saw the object of his search's nose popping through the midst of the straw. " What now ! " exclaimed Sam, starting up, and looking wildly around; "what now?" repeated he, rubbing his eyes with the backs of -his hands. " Get out Ereles," said Leather, soiio voce. The lad was a mere stripling — some fifteen or sixteen years, per- haps — tall, slight, and neat, with dark hair and eyes, and was dressed in a brown jacket — a real boy's jacket, without laps, white cords, and top-boots. It was his business to risk his neck and limbs at all hours of the day, on all sorts of horses, over any sort of place that any per- son chose to require him to put a horse at, and this he did with the daring pleasure of youth as yet undaunted by any serious fall. Sam now bestirred himself to get out the horse. The clambering of hoofs presently announced his approach. Whether Hercules was called Hercules on account of his amazing strength, or from a fanciful relationship to the famous horse of that name, we know not ; but his strength and his colour would favour either supposition. He was an immense, tall, powerful, dark brown, sixteen hands horse, with an arched neck and crest, well set on, clean, lean head, and loins that looked as if they could shoot a man into the next county. His condition was perfect. His coat lay as close and even as satin, with cleanly developed muscle, and altogether he looked as hard as a cricket-balh He had a famous switch tail, reaching nearly to his hocks, and making him look less than he would other- wise have done. Mr. Sponge was too well versed in horse-flesh to imagine that Buch an animal would be in the possession of such a third-rate dealer ME. sponge's sporting TOUR. 25 as Buckram, -anless there was something radically wrong about him, and as Sam and Leather were paying the horse those stable atten- tions that always precede a show out, Mr. Sponge settled in his own mind that the observation about his requiring a horseman to ride him, meant that he was vicious. Nor was he wrong in his anticipations, for not all Leather's whistlings, or Sam's endearings and watchings, could conceal the sunken, scowling eye, that as good as said, " you'd better keep clear of me." Mr. Sponge, however, was a dauntless horseman. What man dared he dared, and as the horse stepped proudly and freely out of the stable, Mr. Sponge thought he looked very like a hunter. Nor were Mr. Buckram's laudations wanting in the animal's behalf. " There's an orse ! " exclaimed he, drawing his right hand out of his trouser pocket, and flourishing it towards him. " If that orse were down in Leicestersheer," added he, " he'd fetch three 'under'd guineas. Sir Biehard would have him in a minnit — that lie would! " added he, with a stamp of his foot as he saw the animal beginning to set up his back and wince at the approach of the lad. (We may here mention by way of parenthesis, that Mr. Buckram had brought him out of Warwickshire for thirty pounds, where the horse had greatly distinguished himself, as well by kicking off sundry scarlet swells in the gaily thronged streets of Leamington, as by running away with divers others over the wide-stretching grazing-grounds of Southam and Dunchurcb.) But to our story. The horse now stood staring on view : fire in his eye, and vigour in his every limb. Leather at his head, the lad at his side. Sponge and Buckram a little on the left. " W — h — — a — a — ?/, my man, w — h — o — a — a — y," continued Mr. Buckram, as a liberal show of the white of the eye was followed by a little wince and hoist of the hind quarters on the nearer approach of the lad. '* Looh sharp, hoy,'''' said he, in a very different tone to the sooth- ing one in which he had just been addressing the horse. The lad lifted up his leg for a hoist. Leather gave him one as quick as thought, and led on the horse as the lad gathered up his reins. They then made for a large field at the back of the house, with leaping-bars, hurdles, " on and offs," " ins and outs," all sorts of fancy leaps scattered about. Having got him fairly in, and the lad having got~himself fairly set- tled in the saddle, he gave the horse a touch with the spur as Leather let go his head, and after a desperate plunge or two started off at a gallop. " ffe^sfresh,^^ observed Mr. Buckram confidentially to Mr. Sponge, •' he's fresh — wants work, in short — short of work — wouldn't put every one on him — wouldn't put one o' your timid cocknified chaps on him, for if ever he were to get the huppcr 'and, vy I doesn't know as ow that we might get the huppcr 'and o' him, agen, but the playful rogue 2 26 ME. sponge's sporting tour. knows ven lie's got a workman on his back — see how he gives to the lad though he's only fifteen, and not strong of his hage nouther," continued Mr. Buckram, " and I guess if he had sich a consternation of talent as you on his back, he'd wery soon be as quiet as a lamb — not that he's wicious — far from it, only play — full of play, I may say, though to be sure, if a man gets sjjilt it don't argufy much whether it's done from play or from wice." During this time the horse was going through his evolutions, hop- ping over this thing, popping over that, making as little of every thing as practice makes them do. Having gone through the usual routine, the lad now walked the glowing coated, snorting horse back to where the trio stood. Mr. Sponge again looked him over, and still seeing no exception to take to him, bid the lad get off, and lengthen the stirrups for him to take a ride. That was the difficulty. The first two minutes always did it. Mr. Sponge, however, nothing daunted, borrowed Sam's spurs, and making Leather hold the horse by the head till he got well into the saddle, and then lead him on a bit ; he gave the animal such a dig in both sides as fairly threw him off his guard, and made him start away at a gallop, instead of standing and delivering, as was his wont. Away Mr. Sponge shot, pulling him about, trying all his paces, and putting him at all sorts of leaps. Emboldened by the nerve and dexterity displayed by Mr. Sponge, Mr. Buckram stood meditating a further trial of his equestrian ability, as he vfatched him bucketing " Ercles " about. Hercules had " spang- hewed " so many triers, and the hideous contraction of his resolute back had deterred so many from mounting, that Buckram had began to fear he would have to place him in the only remaining school for incurables, the 'Bus. Hack-horse riders are seldom great horsemen. The very fact of their being hack-horse riders shows they are little accustomed to horses, or they would not give the fee-simple of an an- imal for a few weeks' work. " I've a wonderful clever little oss," observed Mr. Buckram, as Sponge returned with a slack rein and a satisfied air on the late reso- lute animal's back. " lAttle 1 can 'ardly call 'im," continued Mr, Buckram, " only he's low ; but you knows that the 'eight of an oss has nothin' to do with his size. Now this is a perfect dray-o«;s in minia- ture. An 'Arrow gent, lookin' at him, t'other day christen'd him ' Multum in Parvo.' But though he's so ter-mcn-ikows strong, ho has the knack o' goin', specially in deep ; and if you're not a-goin' to Sir Richard, but into some o' them plough sheers (shires), I'd 'commend him to you." " Let's have a look at him," replied Mr. Sponge, throwing his right-leg over Hercules' head, and sliding from the saddle on to the ground, as if he were alighting from the quietest shooting pony in the world. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 27 All then was hurry, scurry, and scamper to get this second prodigy out. Presently he appeared. Multum in Parvo certainly was all that Buckram described him. A long, low, clean-headed, clean-necked, big-hocked, chesnut, with a long tail, and great, large, flat, white legs, without mark or blemish upon them. Unlike Hercules, there was nothing indicative of vice or mischief about him. Indeed, he was rather a sedate, meditative looking animal ; and, instead of the watch- ful, arms'-length sort of way Leather and Co. treated Hercules, they jerked and punched Parvo about as if he were a cow. Still Parvo had his foibles. He was a resolute, head-strong ani- mal, that would go his own way in spite of all the pulling and hauling in the world. If he took it into his obstinate head to turn into a par- ticular field, into it he would be ; or against the gate-post he would bump the rider's leg in a way that would make him remember the difference of opinion between them. His was not a fiery, hot-headed spirit, with object or reason for its guide, but just a regular downright pig-headed sort of stupidity, that nobody could account for. He had a mouth like a bull, and would walk clean through a gate sometimes rather than be at the trouble of rising to leap it ; at other times he would hop over it like a bird. He could not beat Mr. Buckram's men, because they were always on the look out for objects of contention with sharp spur rowels, ready to let into his sides the moment he began to stop ; but a weak or a timid man on his back had no more chance than he would on an elephant. If the horse chose to carry him into the midst of the hounds at the meet, he would have him in — nay, he would think nothing of upsetting the master himself in the middle of the pack. Then the provoking part was, that the obstinate animal, after having done all the mischief, would just set to to eat as if nothing had happened. After rolling a sportsman in the mud, he would re- pair to the nearest hay-stack or grassy bank and be caught. He was now ten years old, or a leetle more perhaps, and vei'y wicked years some of them had been. His adventures, his sellings and his return- ings, his lettings and unlettings, his bumpings and spillings, his smash- ings and crashings, on the road, in the field, in single and in double harness, would furnish a volume of themselves ; and in default of a more able historian, we purpose blending his future fortune with that of " Ercles," in the service of our hero Mr. Sponge, and his accom- plished groom, and undertaking the important narration of them our- selves. 28 MR. SPONGE S SPORTING TOUE.. CHAPTEK IV. LAVERICK AVELLS, We trust our opening chapters will have enabled our readers to em- hody such a Sponge in their mind's eye as will assist them in following us through the course of his peregrinations. We do not profess to have drawn such a portrait as will raise the same sort of Sponge in the minds of all, but we trust we have given such a general outline of style, and indication of character, as an ordinary knowledge of the world will enable them to imagine a good, pushing, free-and-easy sort of man, wishing to be a gentleman without knowing how. Far more difficult is the task of conveying to our readers such in- formation as will enable them to form an idea of our hero's ways and means. An accommodating world — especially the female portion of it — generally attribute ruin to the racer, and fortune to the fox- hunter ; but though Mr. Sponge's large losses on the turf, as detailed by him to Mr. Buckram on the occasion of their deal or " job," would bring him in the category of the unfortunates ; still that representa- tion was nearly, if not altogether, fabulous. That Mr. Sponge might have lost a trifle on the great races of the j'ear, we don't mean to deny, but that he lost such a sum as eighteen hundred on the Derby, and seven on the Leger, we are in a condition to contradict, for the best of all possible reasons, that he hadn't it to lose. At the same time we do not mean to attribute falsehood to Mr. Sj^onge — quite the contrary — it is no uncommon thing for merchants and traders, men who " talk in thousands," to declare that they lost twenty thousand by this, or forty thousand by that, simply meaning that they didn't make it, and if Mr. Sponge, by taking the longest of the long odds against the most wretched of the outsiders, might have won the sums he named, he surely had a right to say he lost them when he didn't get them. It never does to be indigenously poor, if we may use such a term, and when a man gets to the end of his tether, he must have some- thing or somebody to blame rather than his own extravagance or im- prudence, and if there is no "rascally lawyer" who has bolted with his title-deeds, or fraudulent agent who has misappropriated his funds, why then, railroads, or losses on the turf, or joint-stock banks that have shut up at short notice, come in as the scapegoats. Very willing backs they are, too, railways especially, and so frequently ridden, that it is no easy matter to discriminate between the real and the fictitious loser. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 29 But tliough wc arc able to contradict Mi'. Sponge's losses on the turf, we are sorry we are not able to elevate bim to the riches the character of a fox-hunter generally inspires. Still, like mauy men of whom the common observation is, " nobody knows how he lives," Mr. Sponge always seemed well to do in the world. There was no appear- ance of want about him. He always hunted ; sometimes with five horses, sometimes with four, seldom with less than three, though at the period of our introduction he had come down to two. Neverthe- less, those two, provided he could but make them " go," were well calculated to do the work of four. And hack horses, of all sorts, it may be observed, generally do double the work of private ones; and if there is one man in the world better calculated to get the work out of them than another, that man most assuredly is Mr. Sponge. And this reminds us, that we may as well state that his bargain with Buckram was a sort of jobbing deak He had to pay ten guineas a month for each horse, with a sort of sliding scale of prices if he chose to buy — the price of "Ercles" (the big brown) being fixed at fifty, inclusive of hire at the end of the first month, and gradually rising according to the length of time he kept him beyond that; while " Multum in Parvo," the resolute chesnut, was booked at thirty, with the right of buying at five more, a contingency that Buckram little expected. He, we may add, had got him for ten, and dear he thought him when he got him home. The world was now all before Mr. Sponge where to choose; and not being the man to keep hack-horses to look at, we must be setting him a-going. . '' Leicestersheer swells," as Mr. Buckram would call them, with their fourteen hunters and four hacks, will smile at the idea of a man going from home to hunt with only a couple of " screws," but Mr. Sponge knew what he was about, and didn't want any one to counsel him. He knew there were places where a man can follow up the efi'ect produced by a red coat in the morning to great advantage in the evening ; and if he couldn't hunt every day in the week, as he could have wished, he felt he might fill up his time perhaps quite as profitably in other ways. The ladies, to do them justice, are never at all suspicious about men — on the " nibble " — always taking it for granted, they are " all they could wish," and they know each other so well, that any cautionary hint acts rather in a man's favor than otherwise. Moreover, hunting men, as we said before, are all supposed to be rich, and as very few ladies are aware that a horse can't hunt every day in the week, they just class the whole " genus" fourtecn-horse power men, ten-horse power men, five-horse power men, two-horse power men, together, and tying them in a bunch, label it " very rich,'''' and proceed to take measures accordingly. Let us now visit one of the " strongholds " of fox and fortune- hunting. 30 MR. sponge's sporting tour. A sudden turn of a long, gently-rising, but hitherto uninteresting road, brings the posting traveller suddenly upon the rich, well-wooded, beautifull}^ undulating vale of Fordingford, whose fine green pastures are brightened with occasional gleams of a meandering river, flowing through the centre of the vale. In the far distance, looking as though close upon the blue hills, though in reality several miles apart, sundry spires and taller buildings are seen rising above the gray mists towards which a straight, undeviating, matter-of-fact line of railway passing up the right of the vale, directs the eye. This is the famed Laverick "Wells, the resort, as indeed all watering-places are, according to News- paper accounts, of " Knights and dames, And all that wealth and lofty lineage claim;" At the period of which we write, however, " Laverick Wells" was in great feather — it had never known such times. Every house, every lodging, every hole and corner was full, and the great hotels, which more resemble Lancashire cotton-mills than English hosiehies, were sending away applicants in the most off-hand, indifferent way. The Laverick Wells hounds had formerly been under the manage- ment of the well-known Mr. Thomas Slocdolager, a hard-riding, hard- bitten, hold-harding sort of sportsman, whose whole soul was in the thing, and who would have ridden over his best friend in the ardor of the chase. In some countries such a creature may be considered an acquisi- tion, aiid £0 long as he reigned at the Wells, people made the best they could of him, though it was painfully apparent to the livery- stable keepers, and others, who had the best interest of the place at heart, that such a red-faced, gloveless, drab-breeched, mahogany-booted buffer, who would throw oh at the right time, and who resolutely set his great stubbly-cheeked face against all show meets and social in- tercourse in the field, was not exactly the man for a civilised place. Whether time might have enlightened Mr. Slocdolager as to the fact, that continuous killing of foxes, after fatiguingly long runs, was not the way to the hearts of the Laverick Wells sportsmen, is unknown, for on attempting to realise as fine a subscription as ever appeared upon paper, it melted so in the process of collection, that what was realised was hardly worth his acceptance ; so sajdng, in bis usual blunt way, that if he hunted a country at his own expense he would hunt one that wasn't encumbered with fools, he just stamped his little wardrobe into a paii- of old black saddle-bags, and rode out of town without saying "tar, tar,^'' good-bye, carding, or P. P. C.-ing anybody. This was at the end of a season, a circumstance that considerably mitigated the inconvenience so abrupt a departure might have occa- sioned, and as one of the great beauties of Laverick VV'ells is, that it is just as much in vogue in summer as in winter, the inhabitants con- MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 31 soled themselves with the old aphorism, that there is as " good fish in the sea as ever came out of it," and cast about in search of some one to supply his place at as small cost to themselves as possible. In a place so replete with money and the enterprise of youth, little dii£- culty was anticipated, especially when the old bait of " a name" being all that was wanted, " an ample subscription," to defray all expenses figuring in the background, was held out. CHAPTER V. MR. WAFFLES. Among a host of most meritorious j'^oung men — (any of whom would get up behind a bill for five hundred pounds without looking to see that it wasn't a thousand) — among a host of most meritorious young men who made their appearance at Laverick Wells towards the close of Mr. Slocdolager's reign, was Mr. Waffles ; a most enterprising youth, just on the verge of arriving of age, and into the possession of a very considerable amount of charming ready money. Were it not that a " proud aristocracy," as Sir Robert Peel called them, have shown that they can get over any little deficiency of birth if there is sufficiency of cash, we should have thought it necessary to make the best of Mr Waffles' pedigree, but the tide of of opinion evidently setting the other way, we shall just give it as we had it, and let the proud aristocracy reject him if they like. Mr. Waffles' father, then, was either a great grazier or a brazier — which, we are unable to say, " for a small drop of ink having fallen," not " like dew," but like a black beetle, on the first letter of the word in our correspondent's communication, it may do for either — but in one of which trades he made " a mint of money," and latish on in life mar- ried a lady who hitherto had filled the honourable office of dairy-maid in his house ; she was a fine handsome woman, and a year or two after the birth of this their only child, he departed this life, nearer eighty than seventy, leaving an "inconsolable," &c., who unfortunately con- tracted matrimony with a master pork-butcher, before she got the fine flattering white monument up, causing young Waffles to be claimed for dry-nursing by that expert matron the High Court of Chancery ; who, of course, had him properly educated — where, it is immaterial to relate, as we shall step on till we find him at college. Our friend, having proved rather too vivacious for tlie Oxford Dons, had been recommended to try the effects of the Laverick Wells, or any other waters he liked, and had arrived with a couple of 32 MR. sponge's sporting tour. hunters and a hack, mvieh to the satisfaction of the neighbouring master of hounds and his huntsman ; for Waffles had ridden over and maimed more hounds to his own share, during the two seasons he had been at Oxford, than that gentleman had been in the habit of appropriating to the use of the whole university. Corresponding with that gentleman's delight at getting rid of him was Mr. Sloc- dolager's dismay at his appearance, for fully satisfied that Oxford was the seat of fox-hunting as well as of all the other arts and sciences, Mr. Waffles undertook to enlighten him and his huntsman on the mysteries of their calling, and " Old Sloe," as he was called, being a very silent man, while Mr. Waffles was a very noisy one, Sloe was nearly talked deaf by him. Mr. Waffles was just in the hey-day of hot, rash, youthful indis- cretion and extravagance. He had not the slif^htest idea of the value of money, and looked at the fortune he was so closely approaching as perfectly inexhaustible. His rooms, the most spacious and splendid at that most spacious and splendid hotel, the " Imperial," were filled with a profusion of the most useless but costly articles. Jewellery without end, pictures innumerable, pictures that represented all sorts of imaginary sums of money, just as they represented all sorts of imaginary scenes, but whose real worth or genuineness would never be tested till the owner wanted to "■ convert them." Mr. Waffles was a " pretty man." Tall, slim, and slight, with long curly light hair, pink and white complexion, visionary whiskers, and a tendency to moustache that could best be seen sideways. He had light blue eyes; while his features generally were good, but ex- pressive of little beyond great good-humour. In dress, he was both smart and various ; indeed, we feel a difficulty in fixing him in any particular costume, so frequent and opposite were his changes. He had coats of every cut and colour. Sometimes he was the racing man with a bright-button'd Newmarket brown cut-away, and white- cord trousers, with drab cloth-boots ; anon, he would be the officer, and shine forth in a fancy forage cap cocked jauntily over a profu- sion of well-waxed curls, a richly -braided surtout, with military over- alls strapped down over highly-varnished boots, whose hypocritical heels would sport a pair of large rowelled, long-necked, ringing, brass spurs. Sometimes he was a Jack tar, with a little glazed hat, a once- round tye, a checked shirt, a blue jacket, roomy trousers, and broad-striuged pumps ; and, before the admiring ladies had well di- gested him in that dress, he would be seen cantering away on a long- tailed white barb, in a pea-green duck-hunter, with cream-coloured leather and rose-tinted tops. He was "All tilings by turns, and nothing long." Such was the gentleman elected to succeed the silent, matter-of- fact Mr. Slocdolager in the important office of Master of the Laver- ^m. sponge's sporting tour. 33 ick Wells Hunt; and whatever may be the merits of either — upon which we pass no opinion — it cannot be denied that they were essen- tially diilcrent. Mr. Slocdolager was a man of few words, and not at all a ladies' man. He could not even talk when he was crammed with wine, and though he could hold a good quantity, people soon found out they might just as well pour it into a jug as down his throat, so they gave up asking him out. He was a man of few coats, as well as of few words ; one on, and one oflF, being the extent of his wardrobe. His scarlet was growing plum-colour, and the rest of his hunting-costume has been already glanced at. He lodged above Smallbones, the veterinary-surgeon, in a little back street, where he lived in the quietest way, dining when he came in from hunting, — dressing, or rather changing, only when he was wet, hunting each fox again over his brandy-aud-water, and bundling off to bed long before many of his " field " had left the dining-room. He was little better than a better sort of huntsman. "Waffles, as we said before, had made himself conspicuous towards the close of Mr. Slocdolager's reign, chiefly by his dashing costume, his reckless riding, and his off-hand way of blowing up and slander- ing people. Indeed, a stranger would have taken him for the master, a delu- sion that was heightened by his riding with a formidable-looking sherry-case, in the shape of a horn, at his saddle. Save when engaged in sucking this, his tongue was never at fault. It was jabber, jabber, jabber; chatter, chatter, chatter ; prattle, prattle, prattle ; occasion- ally about something, oftener about nothing, but in cover or out, stiff country or open, trotting or galloping, wet day or dry, good scenting day or bad. Waffles' clapper never was at rest. Like all noisy chaps, too, he could not bear any one to make a noise but himself In furtherance of this, he called in the aid of his Oxfordshire rhetoric. He would holloo at people, designating them by some peculiarity that he thought he could wriggle out of, if necessary, instead of attacking them by name. Thus, if a man spoke, or placed himself where Waffles thought he ought not to be (that is to say, any where but where Waffles was himself), he would exclaim, " Pray, sir, hold your tongue ! — you, sir ! — no, sir, not you — the man that speaks as if he had a brush iu his throat ! " — or, " Do come away, sir ! — you, sir ! — the man iu the mushroom-looking hat ! " — or, " that gentleman in the parsimonious boots ! " looking at some one with very narrow tops. Still he was a rattling, good-natured, harum-scarum fellow; and masterships of hounds, memberships of Parliament — all expensive un- money-making offices, — being things that most men are anxious to foist upon their friends, Mr. Waffles' big talk and interference in the field procured him the honour of the first refusal. Not that he was the man to refuse, for he jumped at the offer, and, as he would be of age before the season came round, and would have got all his money 2* 34 MR. sponge's spouting tour. out of Chancery, he disdained to talk about a subscription, and boldly took the hounds as his own. He then became a very important per- sonage at Laverick Wells. He had always been a most important personage among the ladies, but as the men couldn't marry him, those who didn't want to borrow money of him, of course, ran him down. It used to be, " Look at that dandified ass, Waffles, I declare the sight of him makes me sick ; " or, " What a barber's apprentice that fellow is, with his ringlets all smeared with Macassar." Now it was Waffles this, and Waffles that, " Who dines with Waffles ? " " Waffles is the best fellow under the sun ! By Jingo, I know no such man as Waffles 1 " " Most deserving young man ! " In arriving at this conclusion, their judgment was greatly assisted by the magnificent way he went to work. Old Tom Towler, the whip, who had toiled at his calling for twenty long years on fifty pounds and what he could " pick up," was advanced to a hundred and fifty, with a couple of men under him. Instead of riding worn-out, tumble-down, twenty-pound screws, he was mounted on hundred- guinea horses, for which the dealers were to have a couple of hun- dred, when iliey were paid. Every thing was in the same propor- tion. Mr. Waffles' succession to the hunt made a great commotion among the fair — many elegant and interesting young ladies, who had been going on the pious tack against the Reverend Solomon Wink- eyes, the popular bachelor-preacher of St. Margaret's, teaching in his schools, distributing his tracts, and collecting the penny subscriptions for his clothing club, now took to riding in fan-tailed habits and feathered hats, and talking about leaping and hunting, and riding over rails. Mr. Waffles had a pound of hat-strings sent him in a week, and mufiatees innumerable. Some, we are sorry to say, worked him cigar-cases. He, in return, having expended a vast of toil and inge- nuity in inventing a " button," now had several dozen of them worked up into brooches, which he scattered about with a liberal hand. It was not one of your matter-of-fact story-telling buttons — a fox with " Tally-ho," or a fox's head grinning in grim death — making a red coat look like a miniature butcher's shamble, but it was one of your queer twisting lettered concerns, that may pass either for a military button, or a naval button, or a club button, or even for a livery but- ton. The letters, two W's, were so skilfully entwined, that even a com- positor — and compositors are people who can read almost anything — would have been puzled to decypher it. The letters were gilt, riveted on steel, and the wearers of the button-brooches were very soon dub- bed by the non recipients, " Mr. Waffles' sheep." A fine button naturally requires a fine coat to put it on, and many were the consultations and propositions as to what it should be. Mr. Slocdolager had done nothing iu the decorative department, and MR. sponge's SPORTIKG TOUR. 35 many thought the failure of funds was a good deal attributable to that fact. Mr. Waffles was not the man to lose an opportunity of adding another costume to his wardrobe, and after an infinity of trouble, and trials of almost all the colours of the rainbow, he at length settled the following uniform, which, at least, had the charm of novelty to recommend it. The morning, or hunt coat, was to be scarlet, with a cream-coloured collar and cufi's; and the evening, or dress coat, was to be cream-coloured, with a scarlet collar and cuifs, and scarlet silk facings and linings, looking as if the wearer had turned the morning one inside out. Waistcoats, and other articles of dress, were left to the choice of the wearer, esperience having proved that they are articles it is impossible to legislate upon with any effect. The old ladies, bless their disinterested hearts, alone looked on the hound freak with other than feelings of approbation. They thought it a pity he should take them. They wished he mightn't injure himself — hounds were expensive things — led to hab- its of irregularity — should be sorry to see such a nice young man as Mr. Waffles led astray — not that it would make any difference to them, hut — (looking significantly at their daughters). No fox had been hunted by more hounds than Waffles had been by the ladies; but though he had chatted and prattled with fifty fair maids — any one of whom he might have found difficult to resist, if " pinned " single- handed by, in a country house, yet the multiplicity of assailants com- pletely neutralized each other, and verified the truth of the adage that there is " safety in a crowd." If pretty, lisping, Miss Wordsworth thought she had shot an arrow home to his heart over night, a fresh smile and dart from lit- tle Mary Ogleby's dai-k eyes extracted it in the morning, and made him think of her till the commanding figure and noble air of the Honourable Miss Lctitia Amelia Susannah Jemima de Jenkins, in all the elegance of first-rate millinery and dressmakership, drove her completely from his mind, to be in turn displaced by some one more bewitching. Mr. Waffles was reputed to be made of money, and he went at it as though he thought it utterly impossible to get through it. He was greatly aided in his endeavours by the fact of its being all in the funds — a great convenience to the spendthrift. It keeps him constantly in cash, and enables him to " cut and come again," as quick as ever he likes. Land is not half so accommodating ; neither is money on mortgage. What with time spent in investigating a title, or giving notice to " pay in," an industrious man wants a second loan by the time, or perhaps before he gets the first. Acres are not easy of conversion, and the mere fact of wanting to sell implies a defi- ciency somewhere. With money in the funds, a man has nothing to do but lodge a power of attorney with his broker, and write up for four or five thousand pounds, just as he would write to his bootmaker 36 MR. sponge's sporting tour. for four or five pairs of boots, the only difference being, that in all probability the money would be down before the boots. Then, with money in the funds, a man keeps up his credit to the far end — the last thousand telling no more tales than the first, and making just as good a show. We are almost afraid to say what Mr. Waffles' means were, but we really believe, at the time he came of age, that he had 100,000Z. in the funds, which were nearly at " par " — a term expressive of each hundred being worth a hundred, and not eighty-nine or ninety pounds as is now the case, which makes a considerable difference in the melt- ing. Now a real honafide 100,000/. always counts as three in com- mon parlance, which latter sum would yield a larger income than gilds the horizon of the most mercenary mother's mind, say ten thousand a-year, which we believe is generally allowed to be " v — a — a — ry handsome." No wonder, then, that Mr. Waffles was such a hero. Another great recommendation about him was, that he had not had time to be much plucked. Many of the young men of fortune that appear upon town have lost half their feathers on the race-course or the gaming table before the ladies get a chance at them ; but here was a nice fresh- coloured youth, with all his downy verdure full upon him. It takes a vast of clothes, even at Oxford prices, to come to a thousand pounds, and if we allow four or five thousand for other extravagancies, he could not have done much harm to a hundred thousand. Our friend, soon finding that he was " cock of the walk," had no notion of exchanging his greatness for the nothingness of London, and, save going up occasionally to see about opening the flood-gates of his fortune, he spent nearly the whole summer at Laverick Wells. A fine season it was, too — the finest season the Wells had ever known. When at length the long London season closed, there was a rush of rank and fashion to the English watering-places, quite unparalleled in the " recollection of the oldest inhabitants." There were blooming widows in every stage of grief and woe, from the becoming cap to the fashionable corset and ball flounce — widows who would never forget the dear deceased, or think of any other man — unless he had at least five thousand a yea?'. Lovely girls, who didn't care a farthing if the man was " only handsome ; " and smiling mammas " egging them on," who would look very different when they came to the horrid £. s. d. And this mercantile expression leads us to the observation that we know nothing so dissimilar as a trading town and a watering-place. In the one, all is bustle, hurry, and activity ; in the other, people don't seem to know what Id do to get through the day. The city and west-end present somewhat of the contrast, but not to the extent of manufacturing or sea-port towns and watering- places. Bathing-places are a shade better than watering-places iu the way of occupation, for people can sit staring at the sea, count- MR. SPOXGe's sporting TOUR, 37 ing the ships, or polishing their nails with a shell, whereas at water- ing-places, they have generally little to do but to stare at and talk of each other, and mark the progress of the day, by alternately drinking at the wells, eating at the hotels, and wandering between the library and the railway-station. The ladies get on better, for where there are ladies there are always fine shops, and what between turning over the goods, and sweeping the streets with their trains, making calls, and arranging partners for balls, they get through their time very pleasantly ; but what is " life " to them is often death to men. CHAPTER VI. LAVERICK WELLS. The flattering accounts Mr. Sponge read in the papers of the dis- tinguished company assembled at Laverick Wells, together with de- tails of the princely magnificence of the wealthy commoner, Mr. Waffles, who appeared to entertain all the world at dinner after each day's hunting, made Mr. Sponge think it would be a very likely place to suit him. Accordingly, thither he despatched Mr. Leather with the redoubtable horses by the road, intending to follow in as many hours by the rail as it took them days to trudge on foot. Railways have helped hunting as well as other things, and enable a man to glide down into the grass " sheers," as Mr. Buckram calls them, with as little trouble, and in as short a time almost, as it took him to accomj^lish a meet at Croydon, or at the Magpies at Staines. But to our groom and horses. Mr. Sponge was too good a judge to disfigure the horses with the miserable, pulpy, weather-bleached job-saddles and bridles of " livery," but had them properly turned out with well-made, slightly- worn London ones of his own, and nice, warm, brown woollen rugs, below broadly-bound, blue-and-white-striped sheeting, with richly- braided lettering, and blue and white cordings. A good saddle and bridle makes a difference of ten pounds in the looks of almost any horse. There is no need because a man rides a hack-horse to pro- claim it to all the world : a fact that few hack-horse letters seem to be aware of. Perhaps, indeed, they think to advertise them by means of their inferior appointments. Leather, too, did his best to keep up appearances, and turned out in a very stud-groomish-looking, basket-buttou'd, brown cut-away, with a clean striped vest, ample white cravat, drab breeches and boots, that looked as though they had bruslicd through a few bull- 38 Mu. sponge's sporting tour. finches; and so they had, but not with Leather-legs in them, for he had bought them second-hand of a pad groom in distress. His hands were encased in cat's-skin sable gloves, showing that he was a gentle- man who liked to be comfortable. Thus accoutred, he rode down Broad Street at Laverick Wells looking like a fine, faithful old family- servant, with a slight scorbutic afi"ection of the nose. He had every- thing correctly arranged in true sporting marching order. The collar-shanks were neatly coiled under the headstalls, the clothing tightly rolled and balanced above the little saddle-bags on the led horse, " Multum in Parvo's " back, with the story-telling whip stick- ing through the roller. Leather arrived at Laverick Wells just as the first shades of a November night were drawing on, and anxious mammas and care- ful chaperons were separating their fair charges from their respective admirers and the dreaded night air, leaving the streets to the gas- light men and youths " who love the moon." The girls having been withdrawn, licentious youths linked arms, and bore down the broad pave, quizzing this person, laughing at that, and staring the pin- stickers and straw-chippers out of countenance. " Here's an arrival ! " exclaimed one. " Dash my buttons, who have we here ? " asked another, as Leather hove in sight. " That's not a bad looking horse," observed a third. " Bid him five pounds for it for me," rejoined a fourth. " I say, old Bardolph ! who do them 'ere quadrupeds belong to ? " asked one, taking a scented cigar out of his mouth. Leather, though as impudent a dog as any of them, and far more than a match for the best of them at a tournament of slang, being on his preferment, thought it best to be civil, and replied, with a touch of his hat, that they were " Mr. Sponge's." " Ah ! old sponge biscuits ! — / know him ! " exclaimed a youth in a Tweed wrapper. " My father married his aunt. Give my love to him, and tell him to breakfast with me at six in the morning — he! he! he!'' " I say, old boy, that copper-coloured quadruped hasn't got all his shoes on before," squeaked a childish voice, now raised for the first time. " Thafs intended, gov'nor,'" growled Leather, riding on, indig- nant at the idea of any one attempting to " sell him " with such an old stable joke. So Leather passed on through the now splendidly lit up streets, the large plate-glass windowed shops, radiant with gas, exhibiting rich, many-coloured velvets, silver gauzes, ribbons with- out end, fancy flowers, elegant shawls labelled " Very chaste," " Patronised by Royalty," " Quite the go ! " and white kid-gloves in such profusion that there seemed to be a pair for every person in the place. Mr. Leather established himself at the " Eclipse Livery and Bait MK. SPONGE 8 SPORTING TOUR. 39 Stables," in Pegasus Street, or Peg Street, as it is generally called, where he enacted the character of stud-groom to perfection, doing nothing himself; but seeing that others did his work, and strutting consequentially with the corn-sieves at feeding time. After Leather's long London experience, it is natural to suppose that he would not be long in falling in with some old acquaintance at a place like the " Wells," and the first night fortunately brought him in contact with a couple of grooms who had had the honour of his acquaintance when in all the radiance of his glass-blown wigged prosperity as body-coachman to the Duke of Dazzleton, and who knew nothing of tne treadmill, or his subsequent career. This in- troduction served with his own easy assurance, and the deference country servants always pay to London ones, at once to give him standing, and it is creditable to the etiqueite of servitude to say, that on joining the " Mutton-chop and Mealy-potato Club," at the Cat and Bagpipes, on the second night after his arrival, the whole club rose to receive him on entering, and placed him in the post of honour, on the right of the president. He was very soon quite at home with the whole of them, and ready to tell any thing he knew of the great families in which he had lived. Of course, he abused the Duke's place, and said he had been obliged to give him " hup " at last, " bein' quite an unpossible man to live with ; indeed, his only wonder was, that he had been able to put hup with him so long." The duchess was a "good cretur," he said, and, indeed, it was mainly on her account that he stayed, but as to the duke, he was — every thing that was bad, in short. Mr. Sponge, on the other hand, had no reason to complain of the colours in which his stud-groom painted him. Instead of being the shirtless strapper of a couple of vicious hack hunters, Leather made himself out to be the general superintendent of the opulent owner of a large stud. The exact number varied with the number of glasses of grog Leather had taken, but he never had less than a dozen, and sometimes as many as twenty hunters under his care. These, he said, were planted all over the kingdom ; some at Melton, to " 'unt with the Quorn ; " some at Northampton, to " 'unt with the Pytcbley; " some at Lincoln, to "'unt with Lord 'Enry; " and some at Louth, to "'unt with " — he didn't know who. What a fine flattering, well-spoken world this is, when the speaker can raise his own consequence by our elevation ! One would think that " envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness," had gone to California. A weak-minded man might have his head turned by hearing the de- scription given of him by his friends. But hear the same party on the running-down tack ! — when either his own importance is not in- volved, or dire offence makes it worth his while " to cut off his nose to spite his face." No one would recognise the portrait then drawn as one of the same individual. 40 MR. sponge's sporting tour. Mr. Leather, as we said before, was in the laudatory strain, but, like many indiscreet people, he overdid it. Not content with mag- nifyng the stud to the liberal extent already described, he must needs puff his master's riding, and indulge in insinuations about " showing them all the way," and so on. Now nothing " aggrawates " other grooms so much as this sort of threat, and few things travel quicker than these sort of vapourings to their masters' ears. Indeed, we can only excuse the lengths to which Leather went, on the ground of his previous coaching career not having afforded him a due. insight into the delicacies of the hunting stable ; it being remembered that he was only now acting as stud groom for the first time. However, be that as it may, he brewed up a pretty storm, and the longer it raged the stronger it became. " Ord dash it ! " exclaimed young Spareneck, the steeple-chase rider, bursting into Scorer's billiard-room in the midst of a full gath- ering, who were looking on at a grand game of poule, " Ord dash it ! there's a fellow coming who swears by Jove that he'll take the shine out of us all, ' cut us all down ! ' " "I'll play him for what he likes!" exclaimed the cool, coatless Captain Macer, striking his ball away for a cannon. " Hang your play ! " replied Spareneck ; " you are always think- ing of play — it's hunting I am talking of," bringing his heavy, silver- mounted jockey-whip a crack down his leg. " You don't say so ! " exclaimed Sam Shortcut, who had been flattered into riding rather harder than he liked, and feared his pluck might be put to the test. " What a ruffian ! " — (puff) — observed Mr. Waffles, taking his cigar from his mouth as he sat on the bench, dressed as a racket-player, looking on at the game, " he shalln't ride roughshod over us." " That he shallnH ! " exclaimed Caingey Thornton, Mr. Waffles' premier toady, and constant trencher-man. " /'// ride him ! " rejoined Mr. Spareneck, jockeying his arms, and flourishing his whip as if he was at work, adding : " his old brandy- nosed, frosty-whiskered trumpeter of a groom says he's coming down by the five o'clock train. I vote we go and meet him — invite him to a steeple-chase by moonlight." " I vote we go and see him, at all events," observed Frank Hop- pey, laying down his cue and putting on his coat, adding, " I should like to see a man bold enough to beard a whole hunt — especially such a hunt as ours.'''' " Finish the game first," observed Captain Macer, who had rather the best of it. " No, leave the balls as they are till we come back," rejoined Ned Stringer; " we shall be late. See, it's only ten to, now," con- tinued he, pointing to the timepiece above the fire ; whereupon there MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 41 was a puttiug away of cues, hurrying on of coats, seeking of hats, sorting of sticks, and a general desertion of the room for the railway station. CHAPTER VII. OUK HERO ARRIVES AT LAVERICK WELLS. Punctual to the moment, the railway train, containing the redoubt- able genius, glid into the well-lighted, elegant little station of Lave- rick. Wells, aud out of a first-class carriage emerged Mr. Sponge, in a " down the road " coat, carrying a horse-sheet wrapper in his hand. So small and insignificant did the station seem after the gigantic ones of London, that JMr. Sponge thought he had wasted his money in taking a first-class ticket, seeing there was no one to know. Mr. Leather, who was in attendance, having received him hat in hand, with all the deference due to the master of twenty hunters, soon un- deceived him on that point. Having eased him of his wrapper, and inquired about his luggage, and despatched a porter for a tly, they stood together over the portmanteau and hat-box till it arrived. " How are the horses ?" asked Sponge, " Oh, the osses be nicely, sir ; " replied Leather ; " they travelled down uncommon well, and I've had 'em both remov'd sin they com'd, so either on 'em is to fit to go i' the mornin' that you think proper." " Where are the hounds ? " asked our hero. " 'Ounds be at Whirleypool Wi'^" replied Leather, " that's about five miles off." " What sort of country is it ? " inquired Sponge. " It be a stiffish country from all accounts, with a good deal o' water jumpin' ; that's to say, the Liffey runs twistin' and twinin' about it like a H'eel." " Then I'd better ride the brown, I think," observed Sponge, after a pause : "he has size and stride enough to cover anything, if he will but face water." " I'll warrant him for that," replied Leather ; " only let the Latchford's well into him^ and he'll go." " Are there many hunting men down ? " inquired our friend, casually. " Great many," replied Leather, "great many; some good 'ands among 'em too ; at least so say their grums, though I never believe all these jockeys say. There be some on 'em 'ere now," observed Leather, in an under tone, with a wink of his roguish eye, and jerk of his head towards where a knot of them stood eyeing our friend most intently. 42 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Which ? " inquired Sponge, looking about the thinly -peopled station. " There," replied Leather, " those by the book-stall. That be Mr. Waffles," continued he, giving his master a touch in the ribs as he jerked his portmanteau into a fly, " that be Mr. Waffles^'' re- peated he, with a knowing leer. " Which ? " inquired Mr. Sponge eagerly. " The gent in the green wide-awake 'at, and big-button'd over- coat," replied Leather, " jest now a speakiu' to the youth in the tweed and all tweed ; that be Mr. Caingey Thornton, as big a little black- guard as any in the place — lives upon Waffles, and yet never has a good word to say for him, no, nor for no one else — and yet to 'ear the little devil a^ talkin' to him, you'd really fancy he believ'd there wasn't not never sich another man i' the world as Waffles — not an- other sieh rider — not another sich racket-player — not another sich pigeon-shooter — not another sich fine chap altogether." " Has Thornton any horses ? " asked Sponge. " Not he," replied Leather, " not he, nor the gen'lman next him nouther — he, in the pilot coat, with the whip sticking out of the pocket, nor the one in the coflFee-coloured 'at, nor none on 'em in fact ; " adding, " they all live on Squire Waffles — breakfast with him — dine with him — drink with him — smoke with him — and if any on 'em 'appen to 'ave an 'orse, why they sell to him, and so ride for nothin' themselves." " A convenient sort of gentleman," observed Mr. Sponge, thinking he, too, might accommodate him. The fly-man now touched his hat, indicative of a wish to be off, having a fare waiting elsewhere. Mr. Sponge directed him to pro- ceed to the Brunswick Hotel, while, accompanied by Leather, he proceeded on foot to the stables. Mr. Leather, of course, had the valuable stud under lock and key, with every crevice and air-hole well stuffed with straw, as if they had been the most valuable horses in the world. Having produced the ring-key from his pocket, Mr. Leather opened the door, and having got his master in, speedily closed it, lest a breath of fresh air might intrude. Having lighted a lucifer, he turned on the gas, and exhibited the blooming-coated horses, well littered in straw, showing that he was not the man to pay four-and-twenty shillings a week for nothing. Mr. Sponge stood eyeing them for some seconds with evi- dent approbation. " If any one asks you about the horses, you can sa}^ they are vnine^ you know," at length observed he, casually, with an emphasis on the mine. " In course,'''' replied Leather. " I mean, you needn't say anything about their being jobs,^^ observed Sponge, fearing Leather mightn't exactly " take." MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 43 " You trust nie,^'' replied Leather, with a knowing wink, and a jerk of his elbow against his master's side ; " you trust mc,'''' repeated he, with a look as much as to say " we understand each other." " I've hadded a few to them, indeed," continued Leather, looking to see how his master took it. " Have you ? " observed Mr. Sponge, inquiringly. "I've made out that you've as good as twenty, one way or an- other," observed Leather ; " some 'ere, some there, all over in fact, and that you jest run about the country, and 'unt with 'oever comes h'uppermost." "Well, and what's the upshot of it all?" inquired Mr. Sponge, thinking his groom seemed wonderfully enthusiastic in his interest. " Wiiy the hupshot of it is," replied Leather, " that the men are all mad, and the women all wild to see you. I hear at my club, the Mutton Chop and Mealy Potato Club, which is frequented by flunkies as well as grums, that there's uothin' talked of at dinner or tea, but the terrible rich stranger that's a comin', and the gals are all pulling caps, who's to have the first chance." " Indeed," observed Mr. Sponge, chuckling at the sensation he was creating. " The Miss Shapsets, there be five on 'em, have had a game at fly loo for you," continued Leather, " at least so their little maid tells me." " Fly tohat ? " inquired Mr. Sponge. *' Fly loo," repeated Leather, " fly loo." Mr. Sponge shook his head. For once he was not " fly." " You see," continued Leather, in explanation, " their father is one of them tight-laced candlestick priests wot abhors all sorts of wice and himmorality, and won't stand card playin', or gamblin', or noth- in' o' that sort, so the young ladies, when they want to settle a point, who's to be married first, or who's to have the richest 'usband, play fly loo. 'Sposing it's at breakfast time, they all sit quiet and sober like round the table, lookin' as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, and each has a lump o' sugar on her plate, or by her cup, or some- where, and whoever can 'tice a fly to come to her sugar first, wins the wager, or whatever it is they play for." " Five on 'em," as Leather said, being a hopeless number to ex- tract any good from, Mr. Sponge changed the subject by giving or- ders for the morrow. Mr. Sponge's appearance being decidedly of the sporting order, and his horses maintaining the character, did not alleviate the agita- ted minds of the sporting beholders, ruffled as they were with the threatening, vapouring insinuations of the coachman-groom, Peter Leather. There is nothing sets men's backs up so readily, as a hint that any one is coming to take the " shine " out of them across coun- try. We have known tho most deadly feuds engendered between 44 ME. sponge's sporting tour. parties who never spoke to each other, by adroit go-betweens report- ing to each what the other said, or, perhaps did not say, but what the " go-betweens " knew would so rouse the British lion as to make each ride to destruction if necessary. " He's a varmint-looking chap," observed Mr. Waffles, as the party returned from the railway station ; " shovildu't wonder if he can go — dare say he'll try — shouldn't wonder if he's floored — awfully stifi" country this for horses that are not used to it — most likely his are Leicestershire nags, used to fly — won't do here. If he attempts to take some of our big banked bullfinches in. his stride, with a yawner on each side, will get into grief." " Hang him," interrupted Caingey Thornton, " there are good men in all countries." " So there are ! " exclaimed Mr. Spareneck, the steeple-chase rider. " I've no notion of a fellow lording it, because he happens to come out of Leicestershire," rejoined Mr. Thornton. '■'■ JSfor I ! " exclaimed Mr. Spareneck. " Why doesn't he stay in Leicestershire ? " asked Mr. Hoppey, now raising his voice for the first time — adding, " Who asked him here ? " " Who, indeed ? " sneered Mr. Thornton. In this mood our friends arrived at the Imperial Hotel, where there was always a dinner the day before hunting — a dinner that, somehow, was served up in Mr. Waffles' rooms, who was allowed the privilege of paying for all those who did not pay for themselves ; rather a considerable number, we believe. The best of everything being good enough for the guests, and profuse liberality the order of the day, the cloth generally disappeared before a contented audience, whatever humour they might have sat down in. As the least people can do who dine at an inn and don't pay their own shot, is to drink the health of the man who does pay, Mr. Waffles was always lauded and applauded to the skies — such a master — such a sportsman — such knowledge — such science — such a pattern-card. On this occasion the toast was received with extra enthusiasm, for the proposer, Mr. Caingey Thornton, who was des- perately in want of a mount, after going the rounds of the old lauda- tory course, alluded to the threatened vapourings of the stranger, and expressed his firm belief that he would " meet with his match," a " taking of the bull by the horns," that' met with very considerable favour from the wine-flushed party, the majority of whom, at that moment, made very " small," in their own minds, of the biggest fence that ever was seen. There is nothing so easy as going best pace over the mahogany. Mr. Waffles, who was received with considerable applause, and patting of the table, responded to the toast iu his usual felicitous MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 45 (style, assuring the company that he lived but for the enjoyment of their charming society, and that all the money in the world would be useless, if he hadn't Laverick Wells to spend it in. With regard to the vapourings of a " certain gentleman," he thought it would be very odd if some of them could not take the shine out of him, observing that "Brag "was a good dog, but " Holdfast " .was a better, with certain other sporting similes and phrases, all indicative of showing fight. The steam is soon got up after dinner, and as they were all of the same mind, and all agreed that a gross insult had been offered to the hunt in general, and themselves in particular, the only question was, how to revenge it. At last they hit upon it. Old Slocdolager, the late master of the hunt, had been in the habit of having Tom Towler, the huntsman, to his lodgings the night before hunting, where, over a glass of gin-and- water, they discussed the doings of the day, and the general arrangements of the country. Mr. Waffles had had him in sometimes, though for a different pur- pose — at least, in reality for a different purpose, though he always made hunting the excuse for sending for him, and that purpose was, to try how many silver foxes' heads full of port wine Tom could carry off without tumbling, and the old fellow being rather liquorishly inclined, had never made any objection to the experiment. Mr. Waffles now wanted him, to endeavour, under the mellowing influence of drink, to get him to enter cordially into what he knew would be distasteful to the old sportsman's feelings, namely, to substitute a " drag" for the legitimate find and chase of the fox. Fox-hunting, though exciting and exhilarating at all times, except, perhaps, when the " fallows are flying," and the sportsman feels that in all proba- bility the further ho goes the further he is left behind. Fox-hunting, we say, though exciting and exhilarating, does not, when the real truth is spoken, present such conveniences for neck-breaking, as people, who take their ideas from Mr. Ackermann's print-shop window, imagine. That there are large places in most fences is perfectly true ; but that there are also weak ones is also the fact, and a practised eye catches up the latter uncommonly quick. Therefore, though a madman may ride at the big places, a sane man is not expected to follow ; and even should any one be tempted so to do, the madman having acted pioneer, will have cleared the way, or at all events proved its practicability for the follower. In addition to this, however, hounds having to smell as they go, cannot travel at the ultra steeple-chase pace, so opposed to " looking before you leap," and so conducive to danger and difficulty, and as going even at a fair pace depends upon the state of the atmosphere, and the scent the fox leaves behind, it is evident that where mere daring hard riding is the object, a fox-hunt cannot be depended upon for furnishing the necessary accommodation. A drag-hunt is quite a different thing. The drag can be made to any strength ; enabling 46 MR. sponge's sporting tour. hounds to run as if they were tied to it, and can be trailed so as to bring in all the dangerous places in the country with a certain air of plausibility, enabling a man to look round and exclaim, as he crams at a bullfinch or brook, " he's leading us over a most desperate coun- try — never saw such fencing in all my life I " Drag-hunting, however. as we said before, is not popular with sportsmen, certainly not with huntsmen, and though our friends with their woimded feelings de- termined to have one, they had yet to smooth over old Tom to get him to come into their views. That was now the difficulty. CHAPTER VIII. OLD TOM TOWLER. There are few more difficult persons to identify than a huntsman in undress, and of all queer ones, perhaps old Tom Towler was the queerest. Tom in his person furnished an apt illustration of the right appropriation of talent and the fitness of things, for he would neither have made a groom, nor a coachman, nor a postillion, nor a footman, nor a ploughman, nor a mechanic, nor anything we know of, and yet he was first-rate as a huntsman. He was too v/eak for a groom, too small for a coachman, too ugly for a postillion, too stunted for a footman, too light for a ploughman, too useless-looking for almost anything. Any one looking at him in "mufti" would exclaim, " what an unfortunate object!" and perhaps oSer him a penny, while in his hunting habiliments lords would hail him with, " Well, Tom, how are you ? " and baronets ask him " how he was ? " Commoners felt honoured by his countenance, and yet, but for hunting, Tom would have been wasted — a cypher — an inapplicable sort of man. Old Tom, in his scarlet coat, black cap, and boots, and Tom in his undress — say, shirt-sleeves, shorts, grey stockings and shoes, bore about the same resemblance to each other that a three months dead jay nailed to a keeper's lodge bears to the bright-plumaged bird when flying about. On horseback, Tom was a cockey, wiry-looking, keen-eyed, grim-visaged, hard-bitten little fellow, sitting as though he and his horse were all one, while on foot he was the most shambling, scamb- ling, ci-ooked-going crab that ever was seen. He was a complete mash of a man. He had been scalped by the branch of a tree, his nose knocked into a thing like a button by the kick of a horse, his teeth sent down his throat by a fall, his collar-bone fractured, his left leg broken and his right arm ditto, to say nothing of damage to his MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 47 ribs, fingers, and feet, and having bad his face scarified like pork by repeated brushing through strong thorn fences. But we will describe him as he appeared before Mr. WafBes, and th(> gentlemen of the Laverick Wells Hunt, on the night of Mr. Sponge's arrival. Tom's spirit being roused at hearing the boast- ings of Mr. Leather, and thinking, perhaps, his master might have something to say, or thinking, perhaps, to partake of the eleemosy- nary drink generally going on in large houses of public entertain- ment, had taken up his quarters in the bar of the " Imperial," where he was attentively perusing the " meets " in BelVs Life^ reading how the Atherstone met at Gopsall, the Eedale at Hornby, the Cottesmore at Tilton Wood, and so on, with an industry worthy of a better cause ; for Tom neither knew country, nor places, nor masters, nor hounds, nor hmitsmen, nor anything, though he still felt an interest in reading where they were going to hunt. Thus he sat with a quick ear, one of the few undamaged organs of his body, cocked to hear if Tom Towler was asked for ; when, a waiter dropping his name from the landing of the staircase to the hall porter, asking if anybody had seen anything of him, Tom folded up his paper, put it in his pocket, and passing his hand over the few straggling bristles yet sticking about his bald head, proceeded, hat in hand, up stairs to his master's room. His appearance called forth a round of view halloos ! Who- hoops ! Tally-ho's. Hark forwards ! amidst which, and the waving of napkins, and general noises, Tom proceeded at a twisting, limping, halting, sideways sort of scramble up the room. His crooked legs didn't seem to have an exact understanding with his body which way they were to go ; one, the right one, being evidently inclined to lurch off to the side, while the left one went stamp, stamp, stamp, as if equally determined to resist any deviation. At length he reached the top of the table, where sat his master, with the glittering Fox's head before him. Having made a sort of scratch bow, Tom proceeded to stand at ease, as it were, on the left leg, while he placed the late recusant right, which was a trifle shorter, as a prop behind. No one, to look at the little wizen'd old man in the loose dark frock, baggy striped waistcoat, and patent cord breeches, extending below where the calves of his bow legs ought to have been, would have supposed that it was the noted huntsman and dashing rider, Tom Towler, whose name was celebrated throughout the coun- try. He might have been a village tailor, or sexton, or barber ; any- thing but a hero." " Well, Tom," said Mr. WafBes, taking up the Fox's head, as Tom came to anchor by his side, " how are you ? " " Nicely, thank you, sir," replied Tom, giving the bald head another sweep. 3Ir. Waffles.—'' What'll you drink ? " 48 MR. sponge's sporting tour. Tom. — " Port, if you please, sir." " There it is for you, then," said Mr. "Waffles, brimming the Fox's head, which held about the third of a bottle (an inn bottle at least) and handing it to him. " G-entlemen all," said Tom, passing his sleeve across his mouth, and casting a side-long glance at the company as he raised the cup to drink their healths. He quaffed it off at a draught. " Well, Tom, and what shall we do to-morrow ? " asked Mr. Waffles, as Tom replaced the Fox's head, nose uppermost, on the table. "Why, we must draw Ribston Wood fust, I 'spose," replied Tom, " and then on to Bradwell-grove, unless you thought well of tryin' Chesterton-common on the road, or " " Aye, aye," interrupted Waffles, " I know all that ; but what I want to know is, whether we can make sure of a run. We want to give this great metropolitan swell a benefit. You know who I mean 9" " The gen'leman as is com'd to the Brunswick, I 'spose," replied Tom ; " at least, as is comin', for I've not heard that he's com'd yet." " Oh, but he has^^'' replied Mr. Waffles, " and I make no doubt will be out to-morrow." " S — o — 0," observed Tom, in a long drawled note. " Well, now ! do you think you can engage to give us a run ? " asked Mr. Waffles, seeing his huntsman did not seem inclined to help him to his point. " I'll do my best," replied Tom, cautiously running the many contingencies thi-ough his mind. " Take another drop of something," said Mr. Waffles, again rais- ing the Fox's head. " What'll you have ? " " Port, if you please," replied Tom. " There," said Mr. Waffles, handing him another bumper ; " drink Fox-hunting." " Fox-huntin'," said old Tom, quaffing off the measure, as before. A flush of life came into his weather-beaten face, just as a glow of heat enlivens a blacksmith's hearth, after a touch of the bellows. " You must never let this bumptious cock beat us," observed Mr. Waffles. " No — — 0," replied Tom, adding, "there's no fear of that." " But he swears he loill ! " exclaimed Mr. Caingey Thornton. " He swears there isn't a man shall come within a field of him." " Indeed," observed Tom, with a twinkle of his little bright eyes. " I tell you what, Tom," observed Mr. Waffles, " we must sarvc him out, somehow." MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 49 " Oh ! he'll sarve hissel' out, in all probability," replied Tom ; carelessly adding, " these boastin' chaps always do." " Couldn't we contrive something," asked Mr. Waffles, " to draw him out ? " Tom was silent. He was a hunting huntsman, not a riding one. " Have a glass of something," said Mr. Waffles, again appealing to the Fox's head. " Thank you, sir, I've had a glass," replied Tom, smking the se- cond one. " What will you have ? " asked Mr. Waffles. " Port, if you please," replied Tom. " Here it is," rejoined Mr. Waffles, again handing him the mea- sure. Up went the cup, over went the contents ; but Tom set it down with a less satisfied face than before. He had had enough. The left leg prop, too, gave way, and he was nearly toppling on the table. Having got a chair for the dilapidated old man, they again es- sayed to got him into their line with better success than before. Having plied him well with port, they now plied him well with the stranger, and what with the one and the other, and a glass or two of brandy-and-water, Tom became very tractable, and it was ultimately arranged that they should have a drag over the very stiifest parts of the country, wherein all who liked should take part, but that Mr. Caingey Thornton and Mr. Spareneck should be especially deputed to wait upon Mr. Sponge, and lead him into mischief. Of course it was to be a " profound secret," and equally, of course, it stood a good chance of being kept, seeing how many were in it, the additional number it would have to be communicated to before it could be carried out, and the happy state old Tom was in for arranging mat- ters. Nevertheless, our friends at the " Imperial " congratulated themselves on their success ; and after a few minutes spent in dis- cussing old Tom on his witlidrawal, the party broke up, to array themselves in the splendid dress uniform of the " Hunt," to meet again at Miss Jumpheavy's ball. 3 50 MR. sponge's spoRxma tour. CHAPTER IX. THE MEET THE FIND, AND THE FINISH. Early to bed and early to rise being among Mr. Sponge's maxims, he was enjoying the view of the pantiles at the back of his hotel shortly after daylight the next morning, a time about as difficult to fix in a November day as the age of a lady of a " certain age." It takes even an expeditious dresser ten minutes or a quarter of an hour extra the first time he has to deal with boots and breeches ; and Mr. Sponge being quite a pattern card in his peculiar line, of course took a good deal more to get himself " up." An accustomed eye could see a more than ordinary stir in the streets that morning. Riding-masters and their assistants might be seen going along with strings of saddled and side-saddled screws ; flys began to roll at an earlier hour, and natty tigers to kick about in buckskins .prior to departing with hunters, good, bad, and indif- ferent. Each man had told his partner at Miss Jumpheavy's ball of the capital trick they were going to play the stranger ; and a desire to see the stranger, far more than a desire to see the trick, caused many fair ones to forsake their downy couches who had much better have kept them. The world is generally very complaisant with regard to strangers, so long as they are strangers, generally making them out to be a good deal better than they really arc, and Mr. Sponge came in for his full share of stranger credit. They not only brought all the twenty horses Leather said he had scattered about to Laveriek Wells, but made him out to have a house in Eaton-square, a yacht at Cowes, and a first-rate moor in Scotland, and some said a peerage in expec- tancy. No wonder that he " drew," as theatrical people say. Let us now suppose him breakfasted, and ready for a start. He was " got up " with uucomnion care in the most complete style of the severe order of sporting costume. It being now the commencement of the legitimate hunting-season — the first week in November- — he availed himself of the privileged period for turning out iu everything new. Rejecting the now generally worn cap, he adhered to the heavy, close-napped hat, described in our opening chapter, whose connexion with his head, or back, if it came off", was secured by a small black silk cord, hooked through the band by a fox's tooth, and anchored to a button inside tlie haven of liis low coat-collar. His neck was enveloped in the ample folds of a large white silk cravat, tied in a pointing diamond tie, and sQCured with a MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 51 large silver horse-shoe pin, the shoe being almost large enough for the foot of a young donkey. His low, narrow-collared coat was of the infinitesimal order ; that is to say, a coat, and yet as little of a coat as possible — very near a jacket, in fact. The seams, of course, were outside, and were it not for the extreme strength and evenness of the sewing, and the evident intention of the thing, an ignorant person might have sup- posed that he had had his coat turned. A double layer of cloth extended the full length of the outside of the sleeves, much in the fashion of the stage-coachmen's great-coats in former times ; and, instead of cuffs, the sleeves were carried out to the ends of the fingers, leaving it to the fancy of the wearer to sport a long cuff, or a short cuff, or no cuff at all — ^just as the weather dictated. Though the coat was single-breasted, he had a hole made on the button side, to enable him to keep it together by means of a miniature snaffle, instead of a button. The snaffle passed across his chest, from whence the coatee, flowing easily back, displayed the broad ridge and furrow of a white cord waistcoat, with a low step collar, the vest reaching low down his figure, with large flap pockets, and a nick out in front, like a coachman's. Instead of buttons, the waistcoat was secured with foxes' tusks and catgut loops, while a heavy curb chain, passing from one pocket to the other, raised the impression that there was a watch in one and a bunch of seals in the other. The waistcoat was broadly bound with white binding, and, like the coat, evinced great strength and powers of resistance. His breeches were of a still broader fur- row than the waistcoat, looking as if the ploughman had laid two ridges into one. They came low down the leg, and were met by a pair of well-made, well put on, very brown topped boots, a colour then unknown at Laverick Wells. His spurs were bright and heavy, with formidable necks and rowels, whose slightest touch would make a horse wince, and put him on his good behaviour. Nor did the great slapping brown horse, Hercules, turn out less imposingly than his master. Leather, though not the man to work himself, had a very good idea of work, and right manfully he made the helpers at the Eclipse livery and bait stables strap and groom his horses. Hercules was a fine animal. It did not require a man to be a great judge of a horse to see that. Even the ladies, though perhaps they would rather have had him a white or a cream colour, could not but admire his nut-brown muzzle, his glossy coat, his silky mane, and the elegant way in which he carried his flowing tail. His step was delightful to look at — so free, so accurate, and so easy. And that reminds us that wc may as well be getting Mr. Sponge up — a feat of no easy accomplishment. Few hack hunters are without their little peculiarities. Some are runaways — some kick — some bite — some go tail first on the road — some go tail first at their fences — some rush as if they were going to eat them, others baulk then? 52 MR. sponge's sporting tour. altogether — and few, very few, give satisfaction. Those that do, generally retire from the public stud to the private one. But to our particular quadruped, "Hercules." Mr. Sponge was not without his misgivings, that, regardless of being on his preferment, the horse might exhibit more of his pecu- liarity than would forward his master's interests, and, independently of the disagreeableness of being kicked off at the cover side, not be- ing always compensated for by falling soft, Mr. Sponge thought, as the meet was not far off, and he did not sport a cover hack, it would look quite as well to ride his horse quietly on as go in a fly, provided always he could accomplish the mount — the mount — like the man walking with his head imder his arm — being the first step to every- thing. Accordingly, Mr. Leather had the horse saddled and accoutred as quietly as possible — his Avarm clothing put over the saddle imme- diately, and everything kept as much in the usual course as possible, so that the noble animal's temper might not be ruffled by unaccus- tomed trouble or unusual objects. Leather having seen that the horse could not eject Mr. Sponge even in trousers, had little fear of his dislodging him in boots and breeches ; still it was desirable to avoid all unseemly contention, and maintain the high character of the stud, by which means Leather felt that his own character and consequence would best be maintained. Accordingly, he refrained from calling in the aid of any of the stable assistants, preferring for once to do a little work himself, especially when the rider was up to the trick, and not " a gent" to be cajoled into " trying a horse." Mr. Sponge, punctual to his time, appeared at the stable, and after much patting, whistling, so — so — ing, my man, and general ingratiation, the re- doubtable nag was led out of the stable into a well-littered straw- yard, where, though he might be gored by a bull if he fell, the "eyes of England " at all events would not witness the floorer. Horses, however, have wonderful memories and discrimination. Though so differently attired to what h? was on the occasion of his trial, the horse seemed to recognise Mr. Sponge, and independently of a few snorts as he was led out, and an indignant stamp or two of his foot as it was let down, after Mr. Sponge was mounted he took things very quietly. " Now," said Leather, in an under-tone, patting the horse's arched neck, " I'll give you a hint ; they're a goin' to run a drag to try what he's made on, so be on the look-out," " How do you know ? " asked Mr. Sponge, in surprise, drawing his reins as he spoke. " / know,^^ replied Mr. Leather, with a wink. Just then the horse began to plunge, and paw, and give symptoms of uneasiness, and not wishing to fret or exhibit his weak points, Mr. Sponge gave him his head, and passing through the side-gate was ME. sponge's sporting TOUR. 53 presently in the street. He didn't exactly understand it, but having full confidence in his horsemanship, and believing the one he was on required nothing but riding, he was not afraid to take his chance. Not being the man to put his candle under a bushel, Mr. Sponge took the principal streets on his way out of town. We arc not sure that he did not go ratlier out of his way to get them in, but that is neitlier here nor there, seeing he was a stranger who didn't know the way. • What a sensation his appearance created as the gallant brown stepped proudly and freely up Coronation Street, throwing his smart, clean, well-put-on head up and down on the unrestrained freedom of the snaffle. " Oh, d — n it, there he is ! " exclaimed Mr. Spareneck, jumping up from the breakfast-table, and nearly sweeping the contents off by catching the cloth with his spur. " Where ? " exclaimed half-a-dozen voices, amid a general rush to the windows. " What a fright ! " exclaimed little Miss Martindale, whispering into Miss Beaucliarap's ear ; " I'm sure anybody may have him for me," though she felt in her heart that he was far from bad looking. " I wonder how long he's taken to put on that choker," observed Mr. Spareneck, eyeing him intently, not without an inward qualm that he had set himself a more difficult task than he imagined, to " cut him down," especially when he looked at the noble animal he bestrode, and the masterly way he sat him. " What a pair of profligate boots," observed Captain Whitfield, as our friend now passed his lodgings. " It would be the duty of a ri^ht-thinking man to ride over a fellow in such a pair," observed his friend, Mr. Cox, who was break- fasting with him. " liide over a fellow in such a pair !" exclaimed Whitfield. " No well-bred horse would face such things, I should think." " He seems to think a good deal of himself ! " observed Mr. Cox, as Sponge cast an admiring eye down his shining boot. " Shouldn't wonder," replied Whitfield; " perhaps he'll have the conceit taken out of him before night." " Well, I hope you'll be in time, old boy ! " exclaimed Mr. Waffles to himself, as looking down from his bed-room window, he espied Mr. Sponge passing up the street on his way to cover. Mr. Waffles was just out of bed, and had yet to dress and breakfast. One man in scarlet sets all the rest on the fidget, and without troubling to lay " that or that " together, they desert their breakfasts, hurry to the stables, get out their horses, and rattle away, lest their watches should be wrong, or some arrangement made that they are ignorant of The hounds, too, were on, as was seen, as well by their footmarks, as by the bob, bob, bobbing, of sundry black caps above the hedges, on the I3orrowdon-road, as the huntsman and whips pro- 54 MR. sponge's sporting tour. ceeded at that pleasant post-boy trot, that has roused the wrath of so many riders against horses that they could not get to keep in time. Now look at old Tom, cocked jauntily on the spicy bay, and see what a different Tom he is to what he was last night. Instead of a battered, limping, shabby-looking, little old man, he is all alive, and rises to the action of his horse, as though they were all one. A fringe of grey hair protrudes beneath his smart velvet cap, which sets off a weather-beaten, but keen and expressive face, lit up with -little piercing black eyes. See how chirpy and cheery he is ; how his right arm keeps rising and falling with his whip, beating responsive to the horse's action with the butt-end against his thigh. His new scarlet coat imparts a healthy hue to his face, and good boots and breeches hide the imperfections of his bad legs. His hounds seem to partake of the old man's gaiety, and gather round his horse, or frolic forward on the grassy sidings of the road, till, getting almost out of ear-shot, a single " yooi doit! — Arrogant!'''' — or '■'■here again, BrusTier!''^ brings them cheerfully back to whine and look in the old man's face for applause. Nor is he chary of his praise. " G — oood betch ! — • Arrogant! — G — oood betch!" says he, leaning over his horse's shoulder towards her, and jerking his hand to induce her to proceed forward again. So the old man trots gaily on, now making of his horse, now coaxing a hound, now talking to a " whip," now touching or taking off his cap as he passes a sportsman, according to the esti- mation in which he holds him. As the hounds reach Whirleypool Windmill, there is a grand rush of pedestrians to meet them. First comes a velveteen-jacketed, leather-legginged keeper, with whom Tom (albeit suspicious of his honesty) thinks it prudent to shake hands ; the miller and he, too, greet ; and forthwith a black bottle with a single glass make their appearance, and pass current with the company. Then the earth- stopper draws nigh, and, resting a hand on Tom's horse's shoulder, whispers confidentially in his ear. The pedestrian sportsman of the country, too, has something to say ; also a horse-breaker ; while groups of awe-stricken children stand staring at the mighty Tom, thinking him the greatest man in the world. Railways and fox-hunting make most people punctual, and inles3 than five minutes from the halting of the hounds by the Windmill, the various roads leading up to it emit dark-coated grooms, who, dis- mounting, proceed to brush off the mud sparks, and rectify any little derangement the horses or their accoutrements may have con- tracted on the journey. Presently Mr. Sponge, and such other gen- tlemen as have ridden their own horses on, cast up, while from the eminence the road to Laverick Wells is distinctly traceable with scarlet coats and flys, with furs and flaunting feathers. Presently the foremost riders begin to canter up the hill, when MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 55 All around is gay, men, horses, dogs, And in each smiling countenance appears Fresh blooming health and universal joy. Then the ladies mingle with the scene, some on horseback, some in flys, all chatter aud prattle as usual, some saying smart things, some trying, all making themselves as agreeable as possible, and of course as captivating. Some were in ecstasies at dear Miss Jumpheavy's ball — she was such a nice creature — such a charming ball, and so well managed, while others were anticipating the delights of Mrs. Tom Hoppey's, and some again were asking which was Mr. Sponge. Then up went the eye-glasses, while Mr. Sponge sat looking as inno- cent and as killing as he could. " Dear me ! " exclaimed one, " he's younger than I thought." " That's him, is it ! " observed another ; " I saw him ride up the street ; " while the propriety-playing ones praised his horse, and said it was a beauty. The hounds, which they all had come to see, were never looked at. Mr. Waffles, like many men with nothing to do, was most unpunc- tual. He never seemed to know what o'clock it was, and yet he had a watch, hung in chains, and gewgaws, like a lady's chatelaine. Hunting partook of the general confusion. He did not profess to throw off till eleven, but it was often nearly twelve before he cast up. Then he would come up full tilt, surrounded by " scarlets," like a general with his staff; and once at the meet, there was a prodigious hurry to begin, equalled only by the eagerness to leave off. On this auspicious day he hove in sight, coming best pace along the road, about twenty minutes before twelve, with a more numerous retinue than usual. In dress, Mr. Waffles was the light, butterfly order of sportsman — once-round tie, French polish, paper boots, and so on. On this occasion he sported a shirt-collar with three or four blue lines, and then a white space followed by three or more blue lines, the whole terminating in blue spots about the size of fourpenny pieces at the points ; a once-round blue silk tie, with white spots and flying ends. His coat was a light, jackety sort of thing, with little pockets behind, something in the style of Mr. Sponge's (a docked dressing- gown), but wanting the outside seaming, back strapping, and general strength, that characterised Mr. Sponge's. His waistcoat, of course, was a worked one — heart's-ease mingled with foxes' heads, on a true blue ground, the gift of — we'll not say who — his leathers were of the finest doe-skin, and his long-topped, pointed-toed boots so thin as to put all idea of wet or mud out of the question. Such was the youth who now cantered up and took off his cap to the rank, beauty, and fashion, assembled at Whirleypool Windmill. He then proceeded to pay his respects in detail. At length, having exhausted his " nothings," and said the same thing over again in a dozen different ways, to a dozen different ladies, he gave a slight jerk 56 MR, sponge's sporting tour. of the head to Tom Towler, who forthwith whistled his hounds together, aud, attended by the whips, bustled from the scene. Epping Hunt, in its most palmy days, could not equal the exhibi- tion that now took place. Some of the more lively of the horses, tired of waiting, perhaps pinched by the cold, for most of them were* newly clipped, evinced their approbation of the move, by sundry squeals and capers, which being caught by others in the neighborhood, the infection quickly spread, aud in less than a minute there was such a scene of rocking, aud rearing, and kicking, and prancing, and neigh- ing, and shooting over heads, and rolling over tails, and hanging on by manes, mingled with such screamiugs from the ladies in the tlys, and such hearty-sounding kicks against splash boards and fly bottoms, from sundry of the vicious ones in harness, as never was witnessed. One gentleman, in a bran new scarlet, mounted on a flourishing pie- bald, late the property of Mr. Batty, stood pawing and fighting the air, as if in the saw-dust circle, his unfortunate rider clinging round his neck, expecting to have the beast back over upon him. Another little wiry chosnut, with abundance of rings, racing martingale, and tackle generally, just turned tail on the crowd, and ran oS home as hard as ever he could lay legs to the ground ; while a good steady bay cob, with a barrel like a butt, and a tail like a hearth-brush, having selected the muddiest, dirtiest place he could find, deliberately pi'oceeded to lie down, to the horror of his rider, Captain Greatgun, of the royal navy, who, feeling himself suddenly touch mother eacth, thought he was going to be swallowed up alive, aud was only awoke from the delusion by the shouts of the foot people, telling him to get clear of his horse before he began to roll. Hercules would fain have joined the truant set, and, at the first commotion, up went his great back, and down went his ears, with a single lash out behind that meant mischief, but Mr. Sponge was on the alert, and just gave him such a dig with his spurs as restored order, without exposing anything that anybody could take notice of The sudden storm was quickly lulled. The spilt ones scrambled up ; the loose riders got tighter hold of their horses ; the screaming fair ones sunk languidly in their carriages ; and the late troubled ocean of equestrians fell into irregular line en route for the cover. Bump, bump, bump ; trot, trot, trot ; jolt, jolt, jolt ; shaTie, shake, shake ; and carriages and cavalry got to llibston Wood somehow or other. It is a long cover on a hill-side, from which parties, placing themselves in the green valley below, can see hounds " draw," that is to say, run through with their noses to the ground, if there are any men foolish enough to believe that ladies care for seeing such thiugs. However, there they were. " Uu leit, hi .'" cries old Tom, with a wave of his arm, fiuding he can no longer restrain the ardor of tlie pack as they approach, aud thinking to save his credit by appearing to direct. " IJit Icu, in I " MR. sponge's SPORTTNa TOUR. 57 repeats he, witli a heartier cheer, as the pack charge the rotten fence with a crash that echoes through the wood. The whips scuttle off to their respective points, gentlemen feel their horses' girths, hats are thrust firmly on the head, and the sherry and brandy flasks begin to be drained. " Tally ho!'''' cries a countryman at the top of the wood, hoisting his hat on a stick. At the magic sound, fear comes over some, joy over others, intense anxiety over all. What commotion ! What indecision! What confusion! "Which way? — Which way?" is the cry. " Twang, twang, twang," goes old Tom's horn at the top of the wood, whither he seems to have flown, so quick has he got there. A dark-coated gentleman on a good family horse solves the im- portant question — " Which way ? " by diving at once into the wood, crashing along till he comes to a cross-road that leads to the top, when the scene opening to " open fresh fields and pastures new," dis- closes divers other sections struggling up in long drawn files, follow- ing other leaders, all puffing, and wheezing, and holding on by the manes, many feeling as if they had had enough already — " Quick ! " is the word, for the tail-hounds are flying the fence out of the first field over the body of the pack, which are running almost mute at best pace beyond, looking a good deal smaller than is agreeable to the ejes of a sportsman. " F — o — — r — rard ! " screams old Tom, flying the fence after tlicm, followed by jealous jostling riders in scarlet and colors, some anxious, some easy, some wanting to be at it, some wanting to look as if they did, some wishing to know if there was anything on the far side. Now Tom tops another fence, rising like a rocket and dropping like a bird ; still " F — o — o — r — rard ! " is the cry — away they go at racing pace. The field draws out like a telescope, leaving the largest portion at the end, and many — the fair and fat ones in particular — seeing the hopelessness of the case, pull up their'horses, while yet on an eminence that commands a view. Fifteen or twenty horsemen enter for the race, and dash forward, though the hounds rather gain on old Tom, and the further they go the smaller the point of the telescope becomes. The pace is awful ; many would give in but for the ladies. At the end of a mile or so, the determined ones show to the front, and the spirters and " make-believes " gladly avail themselves of their pioneering powers. Mr. Sponge, who got well through the wood, has been going at his case, the great striding brown throwing the large fields behind him with ease, and taking his leaps safely and well. He now shows to the front, and old Tom, who is still '• F — o — o — r — rard-'n\g " to his hounds, either rather falls back to the field or the field draws 3* 58 MR. sponge's sporting tour. upon him. At all events tliey get together Bomehow. A belt of Scotch fir plantation, with a stiffish fence on each side, tries their mettle and the stoutness of their hats : crash they get through it, the noise they make among the thorns and rotten branches resembling the outburst of a fire. Several gentlemen here decline under cover of the trees. '■'■ F — — — r — rard ! '''' screams old Tom, as he dives through the stifi" fence and lands in the field outside the plantation. He might have saved his breath, for the hounds were beating him as it was. Mr. Sponge bores through the same place, little aided, how- ever, by anything old Tom has done to clear the way for him, and the rest follow in his wake. The field is now reduced to six, and two of the number, Mr. Spareneck and Caingey Thornton, become marked in their attention to our hero. Thornton is riding Mr. Waffles' crack steeple-chaser " Dare-Devil," and Mr. Spareneck is on a first-rate hunter belonging to the same gentleman, but they have not been able to get our friend Sponge into grief. On the contrary, his horse, though lathered, goes as strong as ever, and Mr. Sponge, seeing their design, is as careful of him as possible, so as not to lose ground. His fine, strong, steady seat, and quiet handling, contrasts well with Thornton's rolling, bucketing style, who has already begun to ply a heavy cutting whip, in aid of his spurs at his fences, accompanied with a half frantic " g — u — r — r — r along ! " and inquires of the horse if he thinks he stole him ? The three soon get in front ; fast as they go, the hounds go faster, and fence after fence is thrown behind them, just as a girl throws her skipping-rope. Tom and the whips follow grinning with their tongues in their cheeks, Tom still screeching " i^ — o — o — o — rard! — F — o — o — o — rard ! " at intervals. A big stone wall, built with mortar, and coped with heavy blocks of stone, is taken by the three abreast, for which they are rewarded by a gallop up Stretchfurrow pasture, from the summit of which they see the hounds streaming away to a fine grass country below, with pollard willows dotted here and there in the bottom. " Water ! " says our friend Sponge to himself, wondering whether Hercules would face it. A desperate black bullfinch, so thick that they could hardly see through it, is shirked by consent, for a gate which a countrymen opens, and another fence or two being passed, the splashing of some hounds in the water, and the shaking of others on the opposite bank, show that, as usual, the willows are pretty true prophets. Caingey, grinning his coarse red face nearly double, and getting his horse well by the head, rams in the spurs, and flourishes his cut- ting whip high in the air, with a " g — u — u — ur along I do you MR. sponge's SPORTraO TOUR. 59 think 7" — the " stole you " being lost under water just as Sponge clears the brook a little lower down. Spareneck then pulls up. When Nimrod had Dick Christian under water in the Wissendine in his Leicestershire run, and some one more humane than the rest of the field observed, as they rode on, " But he'll be drowned." " Shouldn't wonder ! " exclaimed another. " But the pace,''' Nimrod added, " was too good to inquire.'''' Such, however, was not the case with our watering-place cock, Mr. Sponge. Independently of the absurdity of a man risking his neck for the sake of picking up a bunch of red herrings, Mr. Sponge, having beat every body, could afibrd a little humanity, more especi- ally as he rode his horse on sale, and there was now no one left to witness the further prowess of the steed. Accordingly, he availed himself of a heavy, newly-ploughed fallow, upon which he landed as he cleared the brook, for pulling up, and returned just as Mr. Spare- neck, assisted by one of the whips, succeeded in landing Caingey on the taking-off side. Caingey was not a pretty boy at the best of times — ^none but the most partial parents could think him one — and his clumsy-featured, short, compressed face, and thick, lumpy figure, were anything but improved by a sort of pea-green net-work of water-weeds with which he arose from his bath. He was uncom- monly well soaked, and had to be held up by the heels to let the water run out of his boots, pockets, and clothes. In this undignified position he was found by Mr. Waffles and such of the field as had ridden the line. " Why, Caingey, old boy ! you look like a boiled porpoise with parsley sauce ! " exclaimed Mr. Waffles, pulling up where the un- fortunate youth was sputtering and getting emptied like a jug. " Confound it ! " added he, as the water came gurgling out of his mouth, " but you must have drunk the brook dry." Caingey would have censured his inhumanity, but knowing the im- prudence of quarrelling with his bread and butter, and also aware of the laughable, drowned-rat figure he must then be cutting, he thought it best to laugh, and take his change out of Mr. Waffles another time. Accordingly, he chuckled and laughed too, though his jaws nearly re- fused their office, and kindly transferred the blame of the accident from the horse to himself. "He didn't put on steara enough," he said. Meanwhile old Tom, who had gone on with the hounds, having availed himself of a well-known bridge, a little above where Thornton went in, for getting over the brook, and having allowed a sufficient time to elapse for the proper completion of the farce, was now seen round- ing the opposite hill, with his hounds clustered about his horse, with his mind conning over one of those imaginary runs that experienced 60 MR. SPONGE S SPORTING TOUR. huntsmen know so well how to tell, when there is no one to contra- dict them. Having quartered his ground to get at his old friend the bridge again, he just trotted up with well-assumed gaiety as Caingey Thorn- ton spluttered the last piece of green weed out from between his great thick lips. " Well Tom ! " exclaimed Mr. Waffles, " what have you done with him?" ■' Killed him, sir,'''' replied Tom, with a slight touch of his cap, as though " killing " was a matter of every-day occurrence with them. " Have you indeed ! " exclaimed Mr. Waffles, adopting the lie with avidity. " Yes, sir," said Tom gravely ; " he was nearly beat afore he got to the brook. Indeed, I thought Vanquisher would have had him in it ; but, however, he got through, ancl the scent failed on the fal- low, which gave him a cliance ; but I held them on to the hedgerow beyond, where they hit it off like wildfire, and they never stopped ao-ain till they tumbled him over at the back of Mr. Plummey's farm-buildings, at Shapwick. I've got his brush," added Tom producing a much tattered one from his pocket, " if you'd like to have it ? " " Thank you, no — yes — no," replied Waffles, not wanting to be bothered with it ; " yet stay," continued he as his eye caught Mr. Sponge, who was still on foot beside his vanquished friend ; " give it to Mr. What-de-ye-call-'em," added he nodding towards our hero. " Sponge,^'' observed Tom, in an under tone, giving the brush to his master. " Mr. Sponge, will you do me the favour to accept the brush ? " asked Mr. Waffles, advancing with it towards him ; adding, " I am sorry this unlucky bather should have prevented your seeing the end." Mr. Sponge was a pretty good judge of brushes, and not a bad one of camphire; but if this one had smelt twice as strong as it did — indeed, if it had dropped to pieces in his hand, or the moths had flown up in his face, he would have pocketed it, seeing it paved the way to what he wanted — an introduction. " I'm very much obliged, I'm sure," observed he, advancing to take it — " very much obliged, indeed ; been an extremely good run, and fast." " Very fair — very fair," observed Mr. Waffles, as though it were nothing in their way ; " seven miles in twenty minutes, I suppose, or something of that sort." " O^ie-and-twenty," interposed Tom, with a laudable anxiety for accuracy. " Ah 1 one-aud-twenty," rejoined Mr. Waffles. " I thought it MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 61 •would be somewhere thereabouts. Well, I suppose we've all had euough," added he ; " may as well go home and have some luncheon, and then a game at billiards, or rackets, or something. How's the old water-rat ? " added he, turning to Thornton, who wa's now busy emptying his cap and mopping the velvet. The water-rat was as well as could be expected, but did not quite like the new aspect of aifairs. He saw that Mr. Sponge was a tirst- rate horseman, and also knew that nothing ingratiated one man with another so much as skill and boldness in the field. It was by that means, indeed, that he had established himself in Mr. Waffles' good graces — an ingratiation that had been pretty serviceable to him, both in the way of meat, drink, mounting, and money. Had Mr. Sponge been, like himself, a needy, penniless adventurer, Caingey would have tried to have kept him out by some of those plausible admonitory hints, that poverty makes men so obnoxious to; but in the case of a rich, flourishing individual, with such an astonishing stud as Leather made him out to have, it was clearly Caingey's policy to knock under and be subservient to Mr. Sponge also. Caingey, we should ob- serve, was a bold, reckless rider, never seeming to care for his neck, but he was no match for Mr. Sponge, who had both skill and courage. Caingey being at length cleansed from his weeds, wiped from his mud, and made as comfortable as possible under the circumstances, was now hoisted on to the renowned steeple-chase horse again, who had scrambled out of the brook on the taking-off side, and, after meandering the banks for a certain distance, had been caught by the bridle in the branch of a willow — Caingey, we say, being again mounted, Mr. Sponge also, without hindrance from the resolute brown horse, the first whip put himself a little in advance, while old Tom followed with the hounds, and the second whip mingled with the now increasing field-, it being generally understood (by the un- initiated, at least) that hounds have no business to go home so long as any gentleman is inclined for a scurrcy, no matter whether he has joined early or late. Mr. Waffles, on the contrary, was very easily satisfied, and neve took the shine ofi" a run with a kill by risking a subsequent defeat. Old Tom, though keen when others wore keen, was not indifl'erent to his comforts, and soon came into the way of thinking that it was just as well to get home to his mutton-chops at two or three o'clock, as to be groping his way about bottomless bye- roads on dark wintcr.nights. As he retraced his steps homeward, and overtook the scattered field of the morning, his talent for invention, or rather stretching, was again called into requisition. " What have you done with him, Tom ? " asked Major Bouncer, eagerly bringing his sturdy collar-marked cob alongside of our hunts- man. 62 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Killed him, sir," replied Tom, with the slightest possible touch of the cap. (Bouncer was no tip.) " Indeed ! " exclaimed Bouncer, gaily, with that sort of sham- satisfaction that most people express about things that can't concern them in the least. " Indeed ! I'm deuced glad of that ! Where did you kill him ? " " At the back of Mr. Plummey's farm-buildings, at Shapwick," replied Tom ; adding, " but, my word, he led us a dance afore we got there — up to Ditchiugton, down to Somerby, round by Temple Bell Wood, cross Goosegreen Common, then away for Stubbington Brooms, skirtin' Sanderwick Plantations, but scarce goin' into 'em, then by the round hill at Camerton, leavin' great Heatherton to the right, and so straight on to Shapwick, where we killed, with every hound up—" " God bless me/ " exclaimed Bouncer, apparently lost in admira- tion, though he scarcely knew the country; "God bless me!" re- peated he, " what a run ! The finest run that ever was seen." " Nine miles in twenty-five minutes," replied Tom, tacking on a little both for time and distance. " B-o-y Jove ! " exclaimed the major. Having shaken hands with and congratulated Mr. Waffles most eagerly and earnestly, the major hurried off to tell as much as he could remember to the first person he met, just as the cheese-bearer at a christening looks out for some one to give the cheese to. The cheese-getter on this occasion was Doctor Lotion, who was going to visit old Jackey Thompson, of Woolleyburn. Jackey being then in a somewhat precarious state of health, and tolerably advanced in life, without any very self-evident heir, was obnoxious to the attentions of three distinct litters of cousins, some one or other of whom was constantly " baying him." Lotion, though a sapient man, and some- what grinding in his practice, did not profess to grind old people young again, and feeling he could do very little for the body cor- porate, directed his attention to amusing Jackey's mind, and anything in the shape of gossip was extremely acceptable to the doctor to retail to his patient. Moreover, Jackey had been a bit of a sportsman, and was always extremely happy to see the hounds — on anybody'' s land but his own. So Lotion got primed with the story, and having gone through the usual routine of asking his patient how he was, how he had slept, looking at his tongue, and reporting on the weather, when the old posing question, " What's the news ? " was put. Lotion replied, as he too often had to reply, for he was a very slow hand at picking up in- formation, " Nothin' particklar, I think, sir ; " adding, in an off-hand sort of way, " You've heard of the greet run, I s'pose, sir ? " " Great run 1 " exclaimed the octogenarian, an if it was a matter MB. sponge's sporting touh. 63 of the most vital importance to him ; "great run, sir; no, sir, not a word / " The doctor then retailed it. Old Jackey got possessed of this one idea — he thought of nothing else. Whoever came, he out with it, chapter and verse, with occa- sional variations. He told it to all the " cousins in waiting ! " Jackey Thompson, of Carrington Ford ; Jackey Thompson, of Houndeslcy ; Jackey Thompson, of the Mill ; and all the Bobs, Bills, Sams, Har- ries, and Peters, composing the respective litters ; — forgetting where he got it from, he nearly told it back to Lotion himself. We some- times see old people affected this way — far more enthusiastic on a subject than young ones. Few dread the aspect of affairs so much as those who have little chance of seeing how they go. But to the run. The cousins reproduced the story according to their respective powers of exaggeration. One tacked on two miles, another ten, and so it went on and on, till it reached the ears of the great Mr. Seedeyman, the mighty we of the country, as he sat in his den penning his " stunners " for his market-day Mercury. It had then distanced the great sea-serpent itself in length, having extended over thirty-three miles of country, which Mr. Seedeyman reported to have been run in one hour and forty minutes. Pretty good going, we should say. CHAPTEK X. THE FEELER. Bag fox-hunts, be they ever so good, are but unsatisfactory things ; drag runs are, beyond all measure, unsatisfactory. After the best- managed bag fox-hunt, there is always a sort of suppressed joy, a deadly liveliness in the field. Those in the secret are afraid of prais- ing it too much, lest the secret should ooze out, and strangers suppose that all their great runs are with bag foxes, while the mere retaking of an animal that one has had in hand before is not calculated to arouse any very pleasurable emotions. Nobody ever goes frantic at seeing an old donkey of a deer handed back into his carriage after a canter. Our friends on this occasion soon exhausted what they had to say on the subject. " That's a nice horse of yours," observed Mr. Waffles to Mr. Sponge, as the latter, on the strength of the musty brush, now rode alongside the master of the hounds. 64 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " I think he is," replied Sponge, rubbing some of the now dried sweat from his shoulder aud neck ; " I think he is; I like him a good deal better to-day than I did the first time I rode him." " What, he's a new one, is he ? " asked Mr. Waifles, taking a sc3nted cigar from his mouth, and giving a steady sidelong stare at the horse. " Bought him in Leicestershire," replied Sponge. " He belonged to Lord Bullfrog, who didn't think him exactly up to his weight." " Up to his weight ! " exclaimed Mr. Caiugey Thornton, who had now ridden up on the other side of his great patron, " why, he must be another Daniel Lambert." " Rather so," replied Mr. Sponge; "rides nineteen stun." " What a monster ! " exclaimed Thornton, who was of the pocket order. " I thought he didn't go fast enough at his fences the first time I rode him," observed Mr. Sponge, drawing the curb slightly so as to show the horse's fine arch neck to advantage ; " but he went quick enough to-day, in all conscience," added he. " He did that,'^ observed Mr, Thornton, now bent on a toadying match. " I never saw a finer lepper." " He flew many feet beyond the brook," observed Mr. Spareueck, who, thinking discretion was the better part of valour, had pulled up on seeing his comrade Thornton blobbing about in the middle of it, and therefore was qualified to speak to the fact. So they went on talking about the horse, and his points, and his speed, and his action, very likely as much for want of something to say, or to keep oS" the subject of the run, as from any real admiration of the animal. The true way to make a man take a fancy to a horse is to make believe that you don't want to sell him — at all events, that you are easy about selling. Mr. Sponge had played this game so very often, that it came quite natural to him. He knew exactly how far to go, and having expressed his previous objection to the horse, he now most handsomely made the a7nende honorable by patting him on the neck, and declaring that he really thought he should keep him. It is said that every man has his weak or " do-able " point, if the sharp ones can but discover it. This observation does not refer, we believe, to men with an innocent penchant for play, or the turf, or for buying pictures, or for collecting china, or for driving coaches and four, all of which tastes proclaim themselves sooner or later ; but means that the most knowing, the most cautious, and the most care- ful, are all to be come over, somehow or another. There are few things more surprising in this remarkable world than the magnificent way people talk about money, or the meannesses they will resort to in order to get a little. We hear fellows flashing aud talking in hundreds and thousands, who will do almost anything I MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 65 for a five-pound note. We have known men pretending to hunt coun- tries at their own expense, and yet actually " living out of the hounds." xsext to the accomplishment of that — apparently almost impossible feat — comes the dexterity required for living by horse- dealing. A little lower down in the scale comes the income derived from the profession of a " go-between " — the gentleman who can buy the horse cheaper than you can. This was Caingey Thornton's trade. He was always lurking about people's stables, talking to grooms and worming out secrets — whose horse had a cough, whose was a wind- sucker, whose was lame after hunting, and so on — and had a price current of every horse in the place — knew what had been given, what the owners asked, and had a pretty good guess what they would take. Waffles would have been an invaluable customer to Thornton if the former's groom, Mr. Figg, had not been rather too hard with his " reg'lars." He insisted on Caingey dividing whatever he got out of his master with him. This reduced profits considerably ; but still, as it was a profession that did not require any capital to set up with, Thornton could aiford to be liberal, having only to tack on to one end to cut off at the other. After the opening Sponge gave as they rode home with the hounds, Thornton had no difficulty in sounding him on the subject. " You'll not think me impertinent, I hope," observed Caingey, in his most deferential style, to our hero, when they met at the News'- room the next day — " you'll not think me impertinent, I hope ; but I think you said, as we rode home, yesterday, that you didn't altogether like the brown horse you were on ? " " Did I? " replied Mr. Sponge, with apparent surprise ; " I think you must have misunderstood me." " Why, no ; it wasn't exactly that," rejoined Mr. Thornton, " but you said you liked him better than you did, I think ? " " Ah I I believe I did say something of the sort," replied Sponge, casually — " I believe I did say something of the sort; but he carried me so well that I thought better of him. The fact was," continued Mr. Sponge, confidentially, " I thought him rather too light-mouthed; I like a horse that bears more on the hand." " Indeed !" observed Mr. Thornton; " most people think a light mouth a recommendation." " I know they do," replied Mr. Sponge, " I know they do ; but I like a horse that requires a little riding. Now this is too much of a made horse — too much of what I call an old man's horse, for me. Bullfrog, wliom I bought him of, is very fat — cats a great deal of venison and turtle — all sorts of good things, in fact — and can't stand much tewing in the saddle ; now, I rather like to feel that I am on a horse, and not in an arm-chair." " He's a fine horse," observed Mr. Thornton. 66 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " So he ought," replied Mr. Sponge ; " I gave a hatful of money for him — two hundred and fifty golden sovereigns, and not a guinea back. Bullfrog's the biggest screw I ever dealt with." That latter observation was highly encouraging to Thornton. It showed that Mr. Sponge was not one of your tight-laced dons, who take offence at the mere mention of " drawbacks," but, on the con- trary, favoured the supposition that he would do the " genteel," should he happen to be a seller. " Well, if you should feel disposed to part with him, perhaps you will have the kindness to let me know," observed Mr. Thornton ; adding, " he's not for myself, of course, but I think I know a man he would suit, and who would be inclined to give a good price for him." " I will," replied Mr. Sponge ; " I will," repeated he ; adding, " if I ivere to sell him, I wouldn't take a farthing under three 'underd for him — three 'underd guineas, mind, not punds."' " That's a vast sum of money," observed Mr. Thornton. " Not a bit on't," replied Mr. Sponge. " He's worth it all, and a great deal more. Indeed, I haven't said, miud that, I'll take that for him ; all I've said is, that I wouldn't take less." " Just so," replied Mr. Thornton. " He's a horse of high character," observed Mr. Sponge. " In- deed, he has no business out of Leicestershire ; and I don't know what set my fool of a groom to bring him here." " Well, I'll see if I can coax my friend into giving what you say," observed Mr. Thornton. " Nay, never mind coaxing," replied Mr. Sponge, with the utmost indifference ; " never mind coaxing ; if he's not anxious, my name's ' easy.' Only mind ye, if I ride him again, and he carries me as he did yesterday, I shall clap on another fifty. A horse of that figure can't be dear at any price," added he. " Put him in a steeple-chase, and you'd get your money back in ten minutes, and a bagful to boot." "■ True," observed Mr. Thornton, treasuring that fact up as an additional inducement to use to his friend. So the amiable gentlemen parted. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 67 CHAPTER XI. THE DEAL, AND THE DISASTER. If people are inclined to deal, bargains can rery soon be struck at idle watering-places, where anything in the shape of occupation is a godsend, and bargainers know where to find each other in a minute. Everybody knows where everybody is. *' Have you seen Jack Sprat ? " " Oh, yes ; he's just gone into Muddle's Bazaar with Miss Flouncey, looking uncommon sweet." Or — " Can you tell me where I shall find Mr. Slowman ? " Answer. — " You'll find him at his lodgings. No. 15 Belvidere Terrace, till a quarter before seven. He's gone home to dress, to dine with Major and Mrs. Holdsworthy, at Grrunton Villa, for I heard him order Jenkins' fly at that time." Caingey Thornton knew exactly when he would find Mr. Waffles at Miss Lollypop's, the confectioner, eating ices and making love to that very interesting, much-courted young lady. True to his time, there was Waffles, eating and eyeing the cherry-coloured ribbons, float- ing in graceful curls along with her raven-coloured ringlets, down Miss Lollypop's nice fresh plump cheeks. After expatiating on the great merits of the horse, and the certainty of getting all the money back by steeple-chasing him in the spring, and stating his conviction that Mr. Sponge would not take any part of the purchase-money in pictures or jewellery, or anything of that sort, Mr. Waffles gave his consent to deal, on the terms the following conversation shows. " My friend will give you your price, if you wouldn't mind taking his cheque and keeping it for a few months till he's into funds," ob- served Mr. Thornton, who now sought Mr. Sponge out at the billiard- room. " Why," observed Mr. Sponge, thoughtfully, "you know horses are always ready money." "True," replied Thornton; "at least that's the theory of the thing ; only my friend is rather peculiarly situated at present." " I suppose Mr. Waffles is your man ? " observed Mr. Sponge, rightly judging that there couldn't be two such flats in the place. " Just so," said Mr. Thornton. " I'd rather take his ' stifi"' than his cheque," observed Mr. Sponge, after a pause. " I could get a bit of stiflf dojie, but a cheque you see — especially a post-dated one — is always objected to." " Well, I dare say that will make no diflFerence," observed Mr. 68 MR. sponge's sportino tour. Thornton, " ' stiff,' if you prefer it — say three months ; or perhaps you'll give us four ? " " Three's long enough in all conscience," replied Mr. Sponge, with a shake of the head ; adding, " Bullfrog made me pay down on the nail." " Well, so he it, then," assented Mr. Thornton ; " you draw at three months, and Mr. Waffles will accept, payable at Coutts's." After so much liberality, Mr. Caingey expected that Mr. Sponge would have hinted at something handsome for him ; but all Sponge said was, " So be it," too, as he walked away to buy a bill-stamp. Mr. Waffles was more considerate, and promised him the first mount on his new purchase, though Caingey would rather have had a ten, or even a five-pound note. Towards the hour of ten on that eventful day, numerous gaitered, trousered, and jacketed grooms began to ride up and down the High- street, most of them with their stirrups crossed negligently on the pommels of the saddles, to indicate that their masters were going to ride the horses, and not them. The street grew lively, not so much with people going to hunt, as with people coming to see those who were. Tattered Hibernians, with rags on their backs and jokes on their lips; young English chevaliers d'industrie, with their hands ready to dive into anybody's pockets but their own ; stablemen out of place, servants loitering on their errands, striplings helping them, ladies'-maids with novels or three cornered-notes, and a good crop of beggars. " What, Spareneck, do you ride the grey to-day ? I thought you'd done Gooseman out of a mount," observed Ensign Downley, as a line of scarlet-coated youths hung over the balcony of the Imperial Hotel, after breakfast and before mounting for the day. Spareneck. — " No, that's for Tuesday. He wouldn't stand one to- day. What do you ride ? " Doivnley. — " Oh, I've a hack, one of Screwman's, Perpetual Motion they call him, because he never gets any rest. That's him, I believe with the lofty-actioned hind legs," added he, pointing to a weedy striug-halty bay passing below, high in bone and low in flesh. " Who's o' the gaudy chestnut ? " asked Caingey Thornton, who now appeared, wiping his fat lips after his second glass of eau de vie. " That's Mr. Sponge's," replied Spareneck in a low tone, knowing how soon a man catches his own name. " A deuced fine horse he is, too," observed Caingey, in a louder key ; adding, " Sponge has the finest lot of horses of any man in Eng- land — in the world, I may say." Mr. Sponge himself now rose from the breakfast table, and was speedily followed by Mr. Waffles and the rest of the party, some bear- ing sofa-pillows and cushions to place on the balustrades, to loll at their ease, in imitation of the Coventry club swells in Piccadilly. Then MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 69 our friends smoked their cigars, reviewed the cavalry, and criticised the ladies who passed below in the flys on their way to the meet. " Come, old Bolter ! " exclaimed one, " here's Miss Bussington coming to look after you — got her mamma with her, too — so you may as well knock under at once, for she's determined to have you." '' A devil of a woman the old un is, too," observed Ensign Down- ley ; " she nearly frightened Jack Simpers of ours into fits, by asking what he meant after dancing three dances with her daughter one night." " My word, but Miss Jumpheavy must expect to do some execu- tion to-day with that fine floating feather and her crimson satin dress and ermine," observed Mr. Waffles, as that estimable lady drove past in her Victoria phaeton. " She looks like the Queen of Sheba her- self But come, I suppose," he added, taking a most diminutive Geneva watch out of his waistcoat-pocket, "we should be going. See! there's your nag kicking up a shindy," he said to Caingey Thornton, as the redoubtable brown was led down the street by a jean-jacketed groom, kicking and lashing out at everything he came near. " I'll kick him," observed Thornton, retiring from the balcony to the brandy-bottle, and helping himself to a pretty good-sized glass. He then extricated his large cutting whip from the confusion of whips with which it was mixed, and clonk, clonk, clonked down stairs to the door. " Multum in Parvo " stopped the doorway, across whose shoulder Leather passed the following hints, in a low tone of voice, to Mr. Sponge, as the latter stood drawing on his dog-skin gloves, the ob- served, as he flattered himself, of all observers. " Mind, now," said Leather, " this oss as a will of his own ; though he seems so quiet like, he's not always to be depended on ; so be on the look out for squalls." Sponge, having had a glass of brandy, just mounted with the air of a man thoroughly at home with his horse, and drawing the rein with a slight feel of the spur, passed on from the door to make way for the redoubtable Hercules. Hercules was evidently not in a good humor. His ears were laid back, and the rolling white eye showed mischief. Sponge saw all this, and turned to see whether Thornton's clumsy, wash-ball seat, would be able to control the fractious spirit of the horse. " Whoay ! " roared Thornton, as his fir.st dive at the stirrup missed, and was answered by a hearty kick out from the horse, the " lohoay " being given in a very difi"erent tone to the gentle, coaxing style of Mr. Buckram and his men. Had it not been for the brandy within and the lookers-on without, there is no saying but Caingey would have declined the horse's further acquaintance. As it was, he quickly repeated his attempt at the stirrup with the same sort of 70 MR. sponge's sporting tour. domineering " wTioay^'' adding, as he landed in the saddle and snatched at the reins, " Do you ihink I stole you ? " Whatever the horse's opinion might be on that point, he didn't seem to care to express it, for finding kicking alone wouldn't do, he immediately commenced rearing too, and, by a desperate plunge broke away from the groom, before Thornton had either got him by the head or his feet in the stirrups. Three most desperate bounds he gave, rising at the bit as though he would come back over if the hold was not relaxed, and the fourth efi"ort bringing him to the opposite kerb-stone, he up again with such a bound and impetus that he crashed right through Messrs. Frippery and Flummery's fine plate glass window, to the terror and astonishment of their elegant young counter-skippers, who were busy arranging their ribbons and finery for the day. Right through the window Hercules went, switching through book muslins and bareges as he would through a bullfinch, and at- tempting to make his exit by a large plate glass mirror against the wall of the cloak room beyond, which he dashed all to pieces with his head. Worse remains to be told. " Multum in Parvo," seeing his old comrade's hind-quarters disappearing through the window, just took the bit between his teeth, and followed, in spite of Mr. Sponge's every efi"ort to turn him ; and when at length he got him hauled round, the horse was found to have decorated himself with a sky-blue visUe trimmed with Honiton lace, which he wore like a charger on his way to the Crusades, or a steed bearing a knight to the Eglinton tournament. Quick as it happened, and soon as it was over, all Laverick Wells seemed to have congregated in the street as our heroes rode out of the folding glass-doors. CHAPTER XII. AN OLD FRIEXD. About a fortnight after the above catastrophe, and as the recollection of it was nearly effaced by Miss Jumplieavy's abduction of Ensign Downley, our friend, Mr. Waffles, on visiting his stud at the four o'clock stable hour, found a most respectable, middle-aged, rosy-gilled, better-sort-of-farmer-looking man, straddling his tight drab-trousered legs, with a twisted ash plant propping his chin, behind the redoubta- ble Hercules. He had a bran-new hat on, a velvet-collared blue coat, with metal buttons, that anywhere but in the searching glare and contrast of London might have passed for a spic-and-spau new one ; a small, striped, step-collared toilanette vest ; and the aforesaid drab MR. sponge's SPORTINO TOtJR. 71 trousers, in the right-hand pocket of which his disengaged hand kept fishing up and slipping down an avalanche of silver, which made a pleasant musical accompaniment to his monetary conversation. On seeing Mr. Waffles, the stranger touched his hat, and appeared to be about to retire, when Mr. Figg, the stud-groom, thus addressed his master : — " This be Mr. Buckram, sir, of London, sir ; says he knows our brown orse, sir." " Ah, indeed," observed Mr. Waffles, taking a cigar from his mouth ; " knows no good of him, I should think. What part of London do you live in, Mr. Buckram ? " asked he. " Why, I doesn't exactly live in London, my lord, — that's to say, sir — a little way out of it, you know — have a little hindependence of my own, you understand." " Hang it, how should I understand anything of the sort — never set eyes on you before," replied Mr. Waffles. The half-crowns now began to descend singly in the pocket, keep- ing up a protracted jingle, like the notes of a lazy, undecided musical snufi-box. By the time the last had dropped, Mr. Buckram had col- lected himself sufficiently to resume. Taking the ash-plant away from his mouth, with which he had been barricading his lips, he observed, " I know'd that oss when Lord Bullfrog had him," nodding his head at our old friend as he spoke. " The deuce you did ! " observed Mr. Waffles ; " where was that ? " " In Leicestersheer," replied Mr. Buckram. " I have a haunt as lives at Mount Sorrel ; she has a little hindependence of her own, and I goes down 'casionally to see her — in fact, I believe I'm her hare. Well, I was down there just at the beginnin' of the season, the 'ounds met at Kirby Gate — a mile or two to the south, you know, on the Liecester road — it was the fust day of the season, in fact — and there was a great crowd, and I was one ; and havin' a heye for an OSS, I was struck with this one, you understand, bein', as I thouglit, a 'ticklar nice 'un. Lord Bullfrog's man was a ridin' of him, and he kept him outside the crowd, showin' off his pints, and passin' him backwards and forwards under people's noses, to tract the notish of the nobs — parsecutin, what I call — and I see'd Mr. Sponge struck — I've known Mr. Sponge many years, and a 'ticklar nice gent he is — well, Mr. Sponge pulled hup, and said to the grum, ' Wlio's o' that OSS ? ' ' My Lor' Bullfrog's, sir,' said the man. ' He's a deuced nice 'un,' observed Mr. Sponge, thinkin' as he was a lord's, he might praise 'im, seein', in all probability, he weren't for sale. ' He is fhat,^ said the grum, patting him on the neck, as thougli he were special fond on him. ' Is my lord out ? ' asked Mr. Sponge. ' No, sir ; he's not corned down yet,' re})lied the man, 'nor do I know wlien he willcuiuc. He's been down at Bath for some time, 'sociatin' with the aldermen 72 MR. sponge's sporting tour. o' Bristol, and has thrown up a vast o' bad flesh — two stun' sin' last season — and he's afeared this oss won't be able to carry him, and so he writ to me to take 'im out to-day, to show 'im. ' He'd carry me, I think,' said Mr. Sponge, making hup his mind on the moment, jist as he makes hup his mind to ride at a fence — not that I think it's a good plan for a gent to show that he's sweet on an oss, for they're sure to make him pay for it. Howsomever, that's nouther here nor there. Well, jist as Mr. Sponge said this. Sir Richard driv' hup, and havin' got his oss, away we trotted to the goss jist below, and the next thing I see'd was Mr. Sponge leadin' the 'ole field on this werry nag. Well, I heard no more till I got to Melton, for I didn't go to my haunt's at Mount Sorrel that night, and I saw little of the run, for my oss was rather puffy, livin' principally on chaff, bran mashes, Swedes, and soft food ; and when I got to Melton, I heard 'ow Mr. Sponge had bought this oss," Mr. Buckram nodding his head at the horse as he spoke, '' and 'ow that he'd given the matter o' two 'under'd — or, I'm not sure it weren't two 'under'd-and-fifty guineas for 'im, and—" " Well," interrupted Mr. Waffles, tired of his verbosity, " and what did they say about the horse ? " " Why," continued Mr. Buckram, thoughtfully, propping his chin up with his stick, and drawing all the half-crowns up to the top of his pocket again, " the fust 'spicious thing I heard was Sir Digby Snaffle's grum, Sam, sayiu' to Captain Serewley's bat-man grum, jist afore the George Inn door, " ' Well, Jack, Tommy's sold the brown oss ! ' " ' N — o — o — R ! ' exclaimed Jack, starin' 'is eyes out, as if it were unpossible. " ' He ^as, though,' said Sam. " * Well, then, I 'ope the gemman's fond o' walkin',' exclaimed Jack, bustin' out a laughin' and runnin' on. " This rayther set me a thinkin'," continued Mr. Buckram, drop- ping a second half-crown, which jinked against the nest-egg one left at the bottom, and fearin' that Mr. Sponge had fallen 'mong the Philistines — which I was werry concerned 'bout, for he's a real nice gent, but thoughtless, as many young gents are who 'ave plenty of tin — I made it my business to impiire about this oss ; and if he is the oss that I saw in Leicestersheer, and I 'ave little doubt about it (drojiping two consecutive half-crowns as he spoke), though I've not seen him out, I — " " Ah ! well, I bought him of Mr. Sponge, who said he got him from Lord Bullfrog," interrupted Mr. Waffles. " Ah ! then he is the oss, in course," said Mr. Buckram, with a sort of mournful chuck of the chin; ''he is the oss," repeated he; *' well, then, he's a dangerous hanimal," added he, letting slip three half-crowns. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 73 " What does he do ? " asked Mr. Waffles. " Do ! " repeated Mr. Buckram, " do ! he'll do for anybody." "Indeed!" responded Mr. Waffles; adding, "how coudd Mr. Sponge sell me such a brute ? " " I doesn't mean to say, mind ye," observed Mr. Buckram, draw- ing back three half-crowns, as though he had gone that much too far, — " I doesn't mean to say, mind, that he's wot you call a misteched, runaway, rear-backwards-over-hanimal — but I mean to say he's a diffi- cultish oss to ride — himpetuous — and one that, if he got the hupper 'and, would be werry likely to try and keep the hupper 'and — you understand me ? " said he, eyeing Mr. Waffles intently, and dropping four half-crowns as he spoke. " I'm tellin' you nothin' but the truth," observed Mr. Buckram, after a pause, adding, " in course it's nothin' to me, only bein' down 'ere on a visit to a friend, and 'earin' that the oss were 'ere, I made bold to look in to see whether it was 'im or no. No offence, I 'opes," added he, letting go the rest of the silver, and taking the prop from under his chin, with an obeisance as if he was about to be off. " Oh, no offence at all," rejoined Mr. Waffles, " no offence — rather the contrary. Indeed, I'm much obliged to you for telling me what you have done. Just stop half a minute," added he, thinking he might as well try and get something more out of him. While Mr. Waffles was considering his next question, Mr. Buckram saved him the trouble of thinking by " leading the gallop " himself " I believe 'im to be a good oss, and I believe 'im to be a had oss," observed Mr. Buckram, sententiously. " I believe that oss, with a bold rider on his back, and well away with the 'ounds, would beat most osses goin', but it's the start that's the difficulty with him ; for if, on the other 'and he don't incline to go, all the spurrin' and quilt- in', and leatherin' in the world won't make 'im. It'll be a mercy o' Providence if he don't cut out work for the crowner some day." " Hang the brute ! " exclaimed Mr. Waffles, in disgust; " I've a good mind to have his throat cut. " Nay," replied Mr. Buckram, brightening up, and stirring the silver round and round in his pocket like a whirlpool, " nay," replied he, " he's fit for summat better nor that." " Not much, I think," replied Mr. Waffles, pouting with disgust. He now stood silent for a few seconds. " Well, but what did they mean by hoping Mr. Sponge was fond of walking ? " at length asked he. " Oh, vy," replied Mr. Buckram, gathering all the money up again, " I believe it was this 'ere," beginning to drop them to half- minute time, and talking very slowly ; " the oss, I believe, got the better of Lord Bullfrog one day, somewhere a little on this side of Thrussinton — that, you know is where Sir 'Arry built his kennels — between Mount Sorrel and Melton in fact — and havin' got his Lord- 4 74 MR. sponge's sporting tour. ship off, who, I should tell you, is an uncommon fat 'un, be wouldn't let him on again, and he 'ad to lead him the matter of I don't know 'ow many miles ; " Mr. Buckram letting go the whole balance of sil- ver in a rush, as if to denote that it was no joke. " The brute ! " observed Mr. Waffles, in disgust, adding, " Well, as you seem to have a pretty good opinion of him, suppose you buy him ; I'll let you have him cheap." " Ord bless you, my lord — that's to say, sir ! " exclaimed Buck- ram, shrugging vip his shoulders, and raising his eyebrows as high as they would go, '^ he'd be of no use to me, none votsomever — shouldn't know wot to do with him — never do for 'arness — besides, I 'ave a werry good machiner as it is — at least, he sarves my turn, and that's everything, you know. No, sir, no," continued he, slowly and thought- fully, dropping the silver to half-minute time ; " no, sir, no ; if I might make free with a gen'lman o' your helegance," continued he, after a pause, " I'd say, sell 'm to a post-master or a buss-master, or some sich cattle as those, but I doesn't think I'd put 'im into the 'ands of no gen'lman, that's to say if I were you, at least," added he. "Well, then, will you speculate on him yourself for the buss- masters ? " asked Mr. Waffles, tired alike of the colloquy and the quadruped. " Oh, vy, as to that," replied Mr. Buckram, with an air of the most perfect indifference, " vy, as to that — not bein' nouther a post- master nor a buss-master — but 'aving, as I said before, a little hinde- pendence o' my own, vy, I couldn't in course give such a bountiful price as if I could turn 'im to account at once ; but if it would be any 'commodation to you," added he, working the silver up into full cry, " I wouldn't mind givin' you the with (worth) of .'im — say, de- ductin' expenses hup to town, and standin' at livery afore I finds a customer — expenses hup to town," continued Mr. Buckram, mutter- ing to himself in apparent calculation, " standin' at livery — three- and-sixpence a night, grum, and so on — I wouldn't mind," continued he, briskly, " givin' of you twenty pund for 'm — if you'd throw me back a sov.," continued he, seeing Mr. Waffles' brow didn't contract into the frown he expected at having such a sum offered for his three hundred-guinea horse. In the course of an hour, that wonderful invention of modern times, — the Electric Telegraph — conveyed the satisfactory words " All right " to our friend Mr. Sponge, just as he was sitting down to dinner in a certain sumptuously sanded coffee-room in Conduit Street, who forthwith sealed and posted the following ready-written letter : — Bantam Hotel, Bond Street. " Sir, " I have been greatly surprised and hurt to hear that you have thought fit to impeach my integrity, and insinuq,te that I have taken jiR. sponge's sporting toue. 75 you in with the brown horse. Such insinuations touch one in a ten- der point — one's self-respect. The bargain, I may remind you, was of your own seeking, and I told 30U, at the time I knew nothing of the horse, having only ridden him once, and I also told you where I got him. To show how unjust and unworthy your insinuations have been, I have now to inform you, that having ascertained that Lord Bullfrog knew he was vicious, I insisted on his lordship taking him back, and have only to add, that, on my receiving him from you, I will return you your bill. " I am, Sir, your obedient servant, " H. Sponge. "To W. Waffles, Esq., Imperial Hotel, Laveiick Wells." Mr. Waffles was a good deal vexed and puzzled when he got this letter. He had parted with the horse, who was gone no one knew where, and Mr. Waffles felt that he had used a certain freedom of speech in speaking of the transaction. Mr. Sponge having left Laverick Wells, had, perhaps, led him a little astray with his tonone — slandering an absent man being generally thought a pretty safe game : it now seemed Mr. Waffles was all wrong, and might have had his money back if he had not been in such a hurry to part with the horse. Like a good many people, he thought he had best eat up his words, which he did in the following manner : — ^^ Imperial Hotd^ Laverich WeUs. " Dear Mr. Sponge, " You are quite mistaken in supposing that I ever insinuated anything against you with regard to the horse. I said he was a beast, and it seems Lord Bullfrog admits it. However, never mind any- thing more about him, though I am equally obliged to you for the trouble you have taken. The fact is, I have parted with him. " We are having capital sport ; never go out but we kill, some- times a brace, sometimes a leash of foxes. Hoping you are recovered from the effects of your ride through the window, and will soon rejoin us, believe me, dear Mr. Sponge, " Yours very sincerely, " AV. Waffles." To which Mr. Sponge shortly after rejoined as follows : — Bantam Ilotel, Bond Street. " Dear Waffles, " Yours to hand — I am glad to receive a disclaimer of any un- worthy imputations respecting the brown horse. Such insinuations are only for horse-dealers, not for men of high gentlemanly feeling. " I am sorry to say we have not got out of the horse as I hoped. Lord Bullfrog, who is a most contankerous fellow, insists upon bar- 76 MR. sponge's sporting tour. ing him back, according to the terms of my letter ; I must therefore trouble you to hunt him up, and let us accommodate his lordship with him again. If you will say where he is, I may very likely know some one who can assist us in getting him. You will excuse this trouble, I hope, considering that it was to serve you that I moved in the matter, and insisted on returning him to his lordship, at a loss of 50Z. to myself, having only given 2501. for him. " I remain, dear Waffles, " Yours sincerely, " H. Sponge. " To W. Waffles, Esq., Imperial Hotel, Laverick Wdls.'" ^^ Laverick Wells. " Dear Sponge, " I'm afraid Bullfrog will have to make himself happy without his horse, for I hav'n't the slightest idea where he is. I sold him to a eockneyfied, countryfied sort of a man, who said he had a small ' hindependence of his own ' — somewhere, I believe, about London. He didn't give much for him, as you may suppose, when I tell you he paid for him chiefly in silver. If I were you, I wouldn't trouble myself about him. ' " Yours very truly, " W. Waffles. " To H. Sponge, Esq." Our hero addressed Mr. Waffles again, in the course of a few days, as follows : — " Dear Waffles, " I am sorry to say Bullfrog won't be put off without the horse. He says I insisted on his taking him back, and now he insists on having him. I have had his lawyer, Mr. Chousam, of the great firm of Chousam, Doem, and Co., of Thrograorton-street, at me, who says his lordship will play old gooseberry with us if we don't return him by Saturday. Pray put on all steam, and look him up. " Yours in haste, " H. Sponge. " To W. Waffles, Esq." Mr. Waffles did put on all steam, and so successfully, that he run the horse to ground at our friend Mr. Buckram's. Though the horse was in the box adjoining the house, Mr. Buckram declared he had sold him to go to " Hireland ; " to what county he really couldn't say, nor to what hunt ; all he knew was, the gentleman said he was a " captin," and lived in a castle. Mr. Waffles communicated the intelligence to Sponge, requesting him to do the best he could for him, who reported what his " best " was in the following letter : — MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 77 " Dear "Waffles, " My lawyer has seen Chousam, and deuced stiff he says he waa. It seems Bullfrog is indignant at being accused of a " do ; " and having got me in the wrong box, by not being able to return the horse as claimed, he meant to work me. At first Chousam would hear of nothing but ' 1 — ^a — w.' Bullfrog's wounded honour could only be salved that way. Gradually, however, we diverged from 1 — a — w to £ — s. — d. ; and the upshot of it is, that he will advise his lordship to take 250/. and be done with it. It's a bore ; but I did it for the best, and shall be glad now to know your wishes on the subject. Meanwhile, I remain, " Yours, very truly, " H. Sponge. " To "W. Waffles, Esq." Formerly a remittance by post used to speak for itself. The tender-fingered clerks could detect an enclosure, however skilfully folded. Few people grudged double postage in those days. Now one letter is so much like another, that nothing short of opening them makes one any wiser. Mr. Sponge received Mr. Waffles' an- swer from the hands of the waiter with the sort of feeling that it was only the continuation of their correspondence. Judge, then, of his delight, when a nice, clean, crisp promissory note, on a five-shilling stamp, fell quivering to the floor. A few lines, expressive of Mr. Waffles' gratitude for the trouble our hero had taken, and hopes that it would not be inconvenient to take a note at two months, accom- panied it. At first Mr. Sponge was overjoyed. It would set him up for the season. He thought how he'd spend it. He had half a mind to go to Melton. There were no heiresses there, or else he would. Leamington would do, only it was rather expensive. Then he thought he might as well have done Waffles a little more. " Confound it ! " exclaimed Sponge, '• I don't do myself justice ! I'm too much of a gentleman / I should have had five 'under'd — such an ass as Waffles deserves to be done ! " 78 MR. sponge's sporting tour. CHAPTER XIII. A NEW SCHEME. Our friend Soapy was now in good feather ; lie had got a large price for his good-for-nothing horse, with a very handsome bonus for not getting him back, making him better ofiF than he had been for some time. Gentlemen of his calibre are generall}^ extremely affluent in erery thing except cash. Tliey have bills without end — bills that nobody will touch, and book debts in abundance — book debts entered vfith metallic pencils in curious little clasped pocket-books, with such utter disregard of method that it would puzzle an accountant to comb them into anything like shape. It is true, what Mr. Sponge got from Mr. Waffles were bills — but they were good bills, and of such reasonable date as the most exact- ing of the Jew tribe would "do " for twenty per cent. Mr. Sponge determined to keep the game alive, and, getting Hercules and Mul- tum in Parvo together again, he added a ii^howy piebald hack, that Buckram had just got from some circus people, who had not been able to train him to their work. The question now was, where to manoeuvre this imposing stud — a problem that Mr. Sponge quickly solved. Among the many strangers who rushed into indiscriminate friend- ship with our hero at Laverick Wells, was Mr. Jawleyford, of Jaw- leyford Court, in shire. Jawleyford was a great humbug. He was a fine, off-hand, open-hearted, cheery sort of fellow, who was always delighted to see you, would start at the view, and stand with open arms in the middle of the street, as though quite overjoyed at the meeting. Though he never gave dinners, nor anything where he was, he asked everybody, at least everybody who did give them, to visit him at Jawleyford Court. If a man was fond of fishing, he must come to Jawleyford Court, he must indeed ; he would take no refusal, he wouldn't leave him alone till he promised. He would show him such fishing — no waters in the world to compare with his. The Shannon and the Tweed were not to be spoken of in the same day as his waters in the Swiftley. Shooting, the same way. " By jove ! are you a shooter ? Well, I'm delighted to hear it. Well, now, we shall be at home all Sep- tember, and up to the middle of October, and you must just come to us at your own time, and I will give you some of the finest par- tridge and pheasant shooting you ever saw in your life ; Norfolk can show nothing to what I can. Now, my good fellow say the word ; MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 79 do say you'll come, and then it will be a settled thing, and I shall look forward to it with such pleasure ! " He was equally magnanimous about hunting, though, like a good many people jvho have " had their hunts," he pretended that his day was over, though he was a most zealous promoter of the sport. So he asked everybody who did hunt to come and see him ; and what with his hearty, ati'able manner, and the unlimited nature of his in- vitations, he generally passed for a deuced hospitable, good sort of fellow, and came in for no end of dinners and other entertainments for his wife and daughters, of which he had two — daughters, we mean, not wives. His time was about up at Laverick Wells when Mr. Sponge arrived there ; nevertheless, during the few days that remained to them, Mr. Jawleyford contrived to scrape a pretty in- timate acquaintance with a gentleman whose wealth was reported to equal, if it did not exceed, that of Mr. Waffles himself, the follow- ing was the closing scene between them: — " Mr. Sponge," said he, getting our hero by both hands in Culey- ford's Billiard iloom, and shaking them as though he could not bear the idea of separation ; " my dear Mr. Sponge," added he, " I grieve to say we are going to-morrow ; I had hoped to have stayed a little longer, and to have enjoyed the pleasure of your most agreeable society." (This was true ; he would have stayed, only his banker wouldn't let him have any more money.) " But, however, T won't say adieu," continued he ; " no, I ivonH say adieu ! I live, as you perhaps know, in one of the best hunting countries in England — my Lord Scamper- dale's — Scamperdale and I are like brothers ; I can do whatever I like with him — he has, I may say, the finest pack of hounds in the world; his huntsman. Jack Frostyface, I really believe, cannot be surpassed. Come, then, my dear fellow," continued Mr. Jawleyford, increasing the grasp and shake of the hands, and looking most earn- estly in Sponge's face, as if deprecating a refusal ; " come then, my dear fellow, and see us ; we will do whatever we can to entertain and make you comfortable. Scamperdale shall keep our side of the country till you come; there are capital stables at Lucksford, close to the station, and you shall have a stall for your hack at Jawley- ford, and a man to look after him if you like ; so now, don't say nay — your time shall be ours — we shall be at home all the rest of the winter, and I flatter myself, if you once come down, you will be in- clined to repeat your visit ; at least, I hope so.'''' There are two common sayings ; one, " that birds of a feather flock together ; " the other, " that two of a trade never agree ; " which often seem to us to contradict each other in the actual intercourse of life. Humbugs certainly have the knack of drawing together, and yet they are always excellent friends, and will vouch for the goodness of each other in a way that few straightforward men think it worth their while to adopt with regard to indifferent people. Indeed, hum- 80 MR. sponge's sporting tour. bugs are not always content to defend their absent brother humbugs when they hear them abused, but they will frequently lug each other in neck and crop, apparently for no other purpose than that of pro- claiming what excellent fellows they are, and see if anybody will take up the cudgels against them. Mr. Sponge, albeit with a considerable cross of the humbug him- self, and one who perfectly understood the usual worthlessness of ^ general invitations, was yet so taken with Mr. Jawleyford's hail- fellow-well-met, earnest sort of manner, that, adopting the convenient and familiar solution in such matters, that there is no rule without an exception, concluded that Mr. Jawleyford was the exception, and really meant what he said. Independently of the attractions offered by hunting, which were both strong and cogent, we have said there were two young ladies, to whom fame attached the enormous fortunes common in cases where there is a large property and no sons. Still Sponge was a wary bird, and his experience of the worthlessness of most general invitations made him think it just possible that it might not suit Mr. Jawley» ford to receive him now, at the particular time he wanted to go ; so after duly considering the case, and also the impressive nature of the invitation, so recently given, too, he determined not to give Jawleyford the chance of refusing him, but just to say he was com- ing, and drop down upon him before he could say " no." Accord- ingly, he penned the following epistle : — " Bantam Hotel, Bond-street, London. " Dear Jawleyford, " I purpose being with you to-morrow, by the express train, which I see, by Bradshaw, arrives at Lucksford a quarter to three. I shall only bring two hunters and a hack, so perhaps you could oblige me by taking them in for the short time I shall stay, as it would not be convenient for me to separate them. Hoping to find Mrs. Jawleyford and the young ladies well, I remain, dear sir, " Yours very truly, " H. Sponge. " Tb— Jawletoed, Esq., Jawleyford Court, Luclsford." " Curse ihe felloio ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, nearly choking him- self with a fish bone, as he opened and read the foregoing at break- fast. " Curse the fellow ! " he repeated, stamping the letter under foot, as though he would crush it to atoms. "Who ever saw such a piece of impudence as that ! " "What's the matter. My dear?" inquired Mrs. Jawleyford, alarmed lest it was her dunning jeweller writing again. " Hatter ! " shrieked Jawleyford, in a tone that sounded through the thick wall of the room, and caused the hobbling old gardener on MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 81 the terrace to peep in at the heavy-mullioned window. '■'■ Maiier ! " repeated he, as though he had got his coup de grace ; " look ihere^'* added he, handing over the letter. " Oh, my dear," rejoined Mrs Jawleyford, soothingly, as soon as she saw it was not what she expected. " Oh, my dear, I'm sure there's nothing to make you put yourself so much out of the way." " No ! " roared Jawleyford, determined not to be done out of his grievance. " No ! " repeated he ; " do you call that nothing ? " *' Why, nothing to make yourself unhappy about," replied Mrs. Jawleyford, rather pleased than otherwise ; for she was glad it was not from Rings, the Jeweller, and, moreover, hated the monotony of Jawleyford Court, and was glad of anything to relieve it. If she had had her own way, she would have gadded about at watering- places all the year round. " Well," said Jawleyford, with a toss of the head and a shrug of resignation, " you'll have me in gaol ; I see that." "Nay, my dear J.," rejoined his wife, soothingly; "I'm sure you've plenty of money." " Have I ! " ejaculated Jawleyford. " Do you suppose if I had I'd have left Laverick Wells without paying Miss Bustlebey, or given a bill at three months for the house-rent ? " " Well, but my dear, you've nothing to do but tell Mr. Screwem- tight to get you some money from the tenants." " Money from the tenants ! " replied Mr. Jawleyford. " Screwem- tight tells me he can't get another farthing from any man on the estate." " Oh, pooh ! " said Mrs. Jawleyford ; " you're far too good to them. I always say Screwemtight looks far more to their interest than he does to yours." Jawleyford, we may observe, was one of the rather numerous race of paper-booted, pen-and-ink landowners. He always dressed in the country as he would in St. James's-street, and his communica- tions with his tenantry were chiefly confined to dining with them twice a year in the great entrance-hall, after Mr. Screwemtight had eased them of their cash in the steward's-room. Then Mr. Jawleyford would shine forth the very impersonification of what a landlord ought to be. Dressed in the height of fashion, as if by his clothes to give the lie to his words, he would expatiate on the delights of such meetings of equality ; declare that, next to those spent with his family, the only really happy moments of his life were those when he was sur- rounded by his tenantry ; he doated on the manly character of the English farmer. Then he would advert to the great antiquity of the Jawleyford family, many generations of whom looked down upon them from the walls of the old hall ; some on their war-steeds, some armed cap-tl-pie, some in court-dresses, some in Spanish ones, one in a white dress with gold brocade breeches and a hat with an enormous 4* 82 MR. sponge's sporting touh. plume, old Jawleyford (father of the present one) in the Windsor uniform, and our friend himself, the very prototype of what then stood before them. Indeed, he had been painted in the act of ad- dressing his hereditary chawbacons in the hall in which the picture was suspended. There he stood, with his bright auburn hair (now rather badger-pied, perhaps, but still very passable by candle-light) — his bright auburn hair, we say, swept boldly off his lofty forehead, his hazy grey eyesflashing with the excitement of drink and animation, his left hand reposing on the hip of his well-fitting black pantaloons, while the right one, radiant with rings, and trimmed with upturned wristband, sawed the air, as he rounded off the periods of the well- accustomed saws. Jawleyford, like a good many people, was very hospitable when in full fig — two soups, two fishes, and the necessary concomitants ; but he would see any one far enough before he would give him a dinner merely because he wanted one. That sort of ostentatious banqueting has about brought country society in general to a dead lock. People tire of the constant revision of plate, linen, and china. Mrs. Jawleyford, on the other hand, was a very rough-and-ready sort of woman, never put out of her way ; and though she constantly preached the old doctrine that girls " are much better single than married," she was always on the look-out for Opportunities of contra- dicting her assertions. She was an Irish lady, with a pedigree almost as long as Ja'.vley- ford's, but more compressible pride, and if she couldn't get a duke, she would take a manpis or an earl, or even put up with a rich com- moner. The perusal, therefore, of Sponge's letter, operated differently upon her to what it did upon her husband, and though she would have liked a little more time, perhaps, she did not care to take him as they were. Jawleyford, however, resisted violently. It would be most particularly inconvenient to him to receive company at that time. If Mr. Sponge had gone through the whole three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, he could not have hit upon a more inconvenient one for him. Besides, he had no idea of people writ- ing in that sort of a way, saying they were coming, without giving him the chance of saying no. "Well, but my dear, I daresay you asked him," observed Mrs. Jawleyford. Jawleyford was silent, the scene in the billiard-room recurring to his mind. " I've often told you, my dear," continued Mrs. Jawleyford, kindly, "that you shouldn't be so free with your invitations if you don't want people to come; things are very different now to what they were in the old coaching and posting days, when it took a day and a night, and half the next day to get here, and I don't know I MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 83 how much money besides. You might then invite people with safety, but it is very different now, when they have nothing to do but to put themselves into the express-train and whisk down in a few hours." " Well, but confound him, I didn't ask his horses," exclaimed Jawleyford; "nor will I have them either," continued he, with a jerk of the head, as he got up and rang the bell, as though deter- mined to put a stop to that at all events. " Samuel," said he, to the dirty page of a boy who answered the summons, " tell John Watson to go down to the Railway Tavern directly, and desire them to get a three-stalled stable ready for a gentleman's horses that are coming to-day — a gentleman of the name of Sponge," added he, lest any one else should chance to come and usurp them — and tell John to meet the express train, and tell the gentleman's groom where it is." CHAPTER XIV. JAWLETFORD COURT. True to a minute, the hissing engine drew the swiftly-gliding train beneath the elegant and costly station at Lucksford — an edifice pre- senting a rare contrast to the wretched old red-tiled, five-windowed house, called the Red Lion, where a brandy-faced blacksmith of a landlord used to emerge from the adjoining smithy, to take charge of any one who might arrive per coach for that part of the country. JMr. Sponge was quickly on the platform, seeing to the detachment of his horse-box. Just as the cavalry was about got into marching order, up rode John Watson, a ragamufiin-looking gamekeeper, in a green plush coat, with a very tarnished laced hat, mounted on a very shaggy white pony, whose hide seemed quite impervious to the visitations of a heavily-knotted dog- whip, with which he kept saluting his shoulders and sides. " Please sir," said he, riding up to Mr. Sponge, with a touch of the old hat, " I've got you a capital three-stall stable at the Railway Tavern, here," pointing to a newly-built brick house standing on the rising ground. " Oh ! but I am going to Jawleyford Court," responded our friend, thinking the man was the " tout " of the tavern. " Mr. Jawleyford don't take in horses, sir," rejoined the man, with another touch of the hat. " He'll take in ?nme," observed Mr. Sponge, with an air of authority 84 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Oh, I beg pardon sir, replied the keeper, thinking he had made a mistake ; " it was Mr. Sponge whose horses I had to bespeak stalls for," touching his hat profusely as he spoke. " Well, this be Mr. Sponge," observed Leather, who had been listening attentively to what passed. " 'Deed ! " said the keeper, again turning to our hero, with an " I beg pardon, sir, but the stable is for you then, sir — for Mr. Sponge, sir." " How do you know that ? " demanded our friend. " 'Cause Mr. Spigot, the butler, says to me, says he, ' Mr. Watson,' says he — my name's Watson, you see," continued the speaker, sawing away at his hat, " my name's Watson you see, and I'm the head gamekeeper. ' Mr. Watson,' says he, ' you must go down to the tavern and order a three-stall stable for a gentleman of the name of Sponge, whose horses are a comin' to-day ; ' and in course I've come 'cordingly," added Watson. " A th7-ee-sta\Vd stable ! " observed Mr. Sponge with an emphasis. " A three-stall'd stable," repeated Mr. AVatson. " Confound him, but he said he'd take in a hack at all events," observed Sponge, with a sideway shake of the head ; " and a hack he shali take in, too," he added. " Are your stables full at Jawleyford Court ? " he asked. " 'Ord bless you, no, sir," replied Watson with a leer ; " there's nothin' in them but a couple of weedy hacks and a pair of old worn- out carriage horses." " Then I can get this hack taken in, at all events," observed Sponge, laying his hand on the neck of the piebald as he spoke. " Why, as to that," replied Mr. Watson, with a shake of the head, " I can't say nothin'." " I must, though,'''' rejoined Sponge, tartly; "he said he'd take in my hack, or I wouldn't have come." " Well, sir," observed the keeper, " you know best sir." " Confounded screw ! " muttered Sponge, turning away to give ' his orders to Leather. " I'll icork him for it," he added. " He sha'u't get rid of me in a hurry — at least not unless I can get a better billet elsewhere." Having arranged the parting with Leather, and got a cart to carry his things, Mr. Sponge mounted the piebald, and put himself under the guidance of Watson to be conducted to his destination. The first part of the journey was performed in silence, Mr. Sponge not being particularly well pleased at the reception his request to have his horses taken in had met with. This silence he might have preserved throughout had it not occurred to him, that he might pump something out of the servant about the family he was going to visit. " That's not a bad-like old cob of yours," he observed, drawing rein bo as to let the shaggy white come along side of him. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 85 " He belies his looks, then," replied Watson, with a grin of his cadaverous face, " for he's just as bad a beast as ever looked through a bridle. It's a parfect disgrace to a gentleman to put a man on such a beast." Sponge saw the sort of man he had got to deal with, and pro-, ceeded accordingly. " Have you lived long with Mr. Jawleyford ? " he asked. " No, nor will I, if I can help it," replied Watson with another grin and another touch of the old hat. Touching his hat wag about the only piece of propriety he was up to. " What, he's not a brick then ? " asked Sponge. " Mean man,'''' replied W^atson with a shake of the head ; " mean man.,'''' he repeated. " You're nowise connected with the fam'ly, I 'spo.se ? " he asked with a look of suspicion lest he might be commit- ting himself. " No," replied Sponge; " no ; merely an acquaintance. We met at Laverick Wells, and he pressed me to come and see him." " Indeed ! " said Watson, feeling at ease again. " Who did you live with before you came here ? " asked Mr, Sponge after a pause. " I lived many years — the greater part of my life, indeed — with Sir Harry Swift. He was a real gentleman now, if you like — free, open-handed gentleman — none of your close shavin', cheese-parin,' sort of gentlemen, or imitation gentlemen, as I calls them, but a man who knew what was due to good servants and gave them it. We had good wages, and all the proper 'reglars.' Bless you, I could sell a new suit of clothes there every year, instead of having to wear the last keeper's cast-offs, and a hat that would disgrace anything but a flay-crow. If the linin' wasn't stuffed full of gun waddin' it would be over my nose," he observed, taking it off and adjusting the layer of wadding as he spoke. " You should have stuck to Sir Harry," observed Mr. Sponge. " / rfirf," rejoined Watson, " I did, I stuck to him to the last. I'd have been with him now, only he couldn't get a manor at Bou- logne, and a keeper was of no use without one." " What, he went to Boulogne, did he ? " observed Mr. Sponge. " Aye, the more's the pity," replied Watson. " He was a gentle- man, every inch of him," he added, with a shake of the head and a sigh, as if recurring to more prosperous times. '' He was what a gentleman ought to be," he continued, " not one of your poor, pryin', inquisitive critturs, what's always fancyia' themselves cheated. I ordered every thing in my department, and paid for it too ; and never had a bill disputed or even commented on. I might have charged for a ton of powder, and never had nothin' said." " Mr. Jawleyford's not likely to find his way to Boulogne, I sup- pose ? " observed Mr. Sponge. 86 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Not he ! " exclaimed Watson, " not he ! — safe bird — very.'''' " He's rich, I suppose ? " continued Sponge, with an air of in- difference. " Why, I should say he was ; though others say he's not," replied Watson, cropping the old pony with the dog- whip, as it nearly fell on its nose. " He can't fail to be rich, with all his property ; though they're desperate hands for gaddin' about ; always off to some waterin' place or another, lookin' for husbands, I suppose. I wonder," he con- tinued,. " that gentlemen can't settle at home, and amuse themselves with coursin' and shootin'." Mr. Watson, like many servants, think- ing that the bulk of a gentleman's income should be spent in promot- ing the particular sport over which they preside. With *his and similar discourse, they beguiled the short distance between the station and the Court — a distance, however, that looked considerably greater after the flying rapidity of the rail. But for these occasional returns to terra firma, people would begin to fancy themselves birds. After rounding a large but gently swelling hill, over the summit of which the road, after the fashion of old roads, led, our traveller suddenly looked down upon the wide vale of Sniper- down, with Jawleyford Court glittering with a bright open aspect, on a fine gradual elevation, above the broad, smoothly-gliding river. A clear atmosphere, indicative either of rain or frost, disclosed a vast tract of wild, flat, ill-cultivated looking country to the south, little interrupted by woods or signs of population ; the whole losing itself, as it were, in an indistinct gray outline, commingling with the fleecy white clouds in the distance. " Here we be," observed Watson, with a nod towards where a tarnished red-and-gold flag floated, or rather flapped lazily in the winter's breeze, above an irregular mass of towers, turrets, and odd- shaped chimneys. Jawleyford Court was a fine old mansion, partaking more of the character of a castle than a Court, with its keep and towers, battle- ments, heavily grated muUioned windows, and machicolated gallery. It stood, sombre and gray, in the midst of gigantic but now leafless sycamores, — trees that had to thank themselves for being sycamores ; for, had they been oaks, or other marketable wood, they would have been made into bonnets or shawls long before now. The building itself was irregular, presenting different sorts of architecture, from pure Gothic down to some even perfectly modern buildings ; still, viewed as a whole, it was massive and imposing ; and as Mr. Sponge looked down upon it, he thought far more of Jawleyford & Co. than he did as the mere occupants of a modest, white-stuccoed, green-veran- dahed house, at Laverick Wells. Nor did his admiration diminish as he advanced, and crossing by a battlemented bridge over the moat, he viewed the massive character of the buildings rising grandly from their rocky foundation. An imposing, solemn-toned old clock began MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 87 striking four, as the horsemen rode under the Gothic portico, whose notes re-echoed and reverberated, and at last lost themselves among the towers and pinnacles of the building. Sponge, for a moment, was awe-stricken at the magnificence of the scene, feeling that it was what he would call " a good many cuts above him ; " but he soon re- covered his wonted impudence. " He would have me," thought he, recalling the pressing nature of the Jawlejford invitation. " If you'll hold my nag," said Watson, throwing himself off the shaggy white, " I'll ring the bell," added he, running up a wide flight of steps to the hall door. A riotous peal announced the arrival. CHAPTEE XV. THE JAWLEYFORD ESTABLISHMENT. The loud peal of the Jawleyford Court door-bell, announcing Mr. Sponge's arrival, with which we closed the last chapter, found the in- habitants variously engaged preparing for his reception. Mrs. Jawleyford, with the aid of a very indifferent cook, was en- deavoring to arrange a becoming dinner ; the young ladies, with the aid of a somewhat better sort of maid, were attractifyiug themselves, each looking with considerable jealousy on the efforts of the other ; and Mr. Jawleyford was trotting from room to room, eyeing the various pictures of himself, wondering which was now the most like, and watching the emergence of curtains, carpets, and sofas from their brown-hoUand covers. A gleam of sunshine seemed to reign throughout the mansion ; the long-covered furniture appearing to have gained freshness by its re- tirement, just as a newly done-up hat surprises the wearer by its good- ness : a few days, however, soon restores the defects of either. All these arrangements were suddenly brought to a close by the peal of the door-bell, just as the little stage-tinkle of a theatre stops prep- aration, and compels the actors to stand forward as they are. Mrs. Jawleyford threw aside her silk apron, and took a hasty glance of her face in the old eagle-topped mirror in the still-room ; the young la- dies discarded their coarse dirty pocket-handkerchiefs, and gently drew elaborately-fringed ones through their taper fingers to give them an air of use, as they took a hasty review of themselves in the swing mirrors ; the housemaid hurried off with a whole armful of brown boUand ; and Jawleyford threw himself into attitude in an elaborately- carved, richly-cushioned, easy chair, with a Disraeli's " Life of Lord 88 ME. sponge's sporting tour. George Bentinck " in his hand. But Jawleyford's thoughts were far from his book. He was sitting on thorns lest there might not be a proper guard of honour to receive Mr. Sponge at the entrance. Jawleyford, as we said before, was not a man to entertain unless he could do it " properly; " and, as we all have our pitch-notes of pro- priety up to which we play, we may state that Jawleyford's note was a butler and two footmen. A butler and two footmen he looked upon as perfectly indispensable to receiving company. He chose to have two footmen to follow the butler, who followed the gentleman to the spacious flight of steps leading from the great hall to the portico, as he mounted his horse. The world is governed a good deal by appear- ances. Mr. Jawleyford started life with two most unimpeachable Johns. They were nearly six feet high, heads well up, and legs that might have done for models for a sculptor. They powdered with the great- est propriety, and by two o'clock each day were silk-stockinged and pumped in full-dress Jawleyford livery ; sky-blue coats with massive silver aiguillettes, and broad silver seams down the front and round their waistcoat-pocket flaps ; silver garters at their crimson plush breeches' knees : and thus attired, they were ready to turn out with the butler to receive visitors, and conduct them back to their car- riages. Gradually they came down in style, but not in number, and, when Mr. Sponge visited Mr. JaAvleyford, he had a sort of out-of-door man-of-all-work who metamorphosed himself into a second footman at short notice. " My dear Mr. Sponge ! — I am delighted to see you ! " exclaimed Mr. Jawleyford, rising from his easy chair, and throwing his Disraeli's " Bentinck " aside, as Mr. Spigot, the butler, in a deep sonorous voice, announced our worthy friend; " This is, indeed, most truly kind of you," continued Jawleyford, advancing to meet him ; and getting our friend by both hands, he began working his arms up and down like the under man in a saw-pit. " This is, indeed, most truly kind," he repeated ; " I assure you I shall never forget it. It's just what I like — it's just what Mrs. Jawleyford likes — it's just what we all like — coming without fuss or ceremony. Spigot ! " he added, hailing old Poraposo as the latter was slowly withdrawing, thinking what a hum- bug his master was — " Spigot ! " he repeated, in a louder voice ; " let the ladies know Mr. Sponge is here. Come to the fire my dear fel- low," continued Jawleyford, clutching his guest by the arm, and drawing him towards where an ample grate of indifl'erent coals was crackling and spluttering beneath a magnificent old oak mantelpiece of the richest and costliest carved work. " Come to the fire, my dear fellow," he repeated, " for you feel cold ; and I don't wonder at it, for the day is cheerless and uncomfortable, and you've had a long ride. Will you take any thing before dinner ? " MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 89 " What time do you dine ? " asked Mr. Sponge, rubbing his hands as he spoke. '' Six o'clock," replied Mr. Jawleyford, " six o'clock — say six o'clock— not particular to a moment — days are short, you see — days are short." *' I think I should like a glass of sherry and a biscuit, then," ob- served Mr. Sponge. And forthwith the bell was rung, and in due course of time Mr. Spigot arrived with a tray, followed by the Miss Jawleyfords, who had rather expected Mr. Sponge to be shown into the drawing-room to them, where they had composed themselves very prettily ; one working a parrot in chenille, the other with a lapful of crochet. The Miss Jawleyfords — Amelia and Emily — ^^were lively girls; hardly beauties — at least not sufficiently so to attract attention in a crowd ; but still, girls well calculated to " bring a man to book," in the country. Mr. Thackeray, who bound up all the home truths in cir- culation, and many that exist only in the inner chambers of the heart, calling the whole " Vanity fair," says, we think (though we don't ex- actly know where to lay hand on the passage), that it is not your real striking beauties who are the most dangerous — at all events, that do the most execution — but sly, quiet sort of girls, who do not strike the beholder at first sight, but steal insensibly upon him as he gets ac- quainted. The Miss Jawleyfords were of this order. Seen in plain morning gowns, a man would meet them in the street, without either turning round or making an observation, good, bad or indifferent; but in the close quarters of a country house, with all the able assist- ance of first-rate London dresses, well flounced and set out, each bent on doing the agreeable, they became dangerous. The Miss Jawley- fords were uncommonly well got uj), and Juliana, their mutual maid, deserved great credit for the impartiality she displayed in arraying them. There wasn't a halfpenny's worth of choice as to which was the best. This was the more creditable to the maid, inasmuch as the dresses — sea-green glaccs — were rather dashed ; and the worse they looked, the likelier they would be to become her property. Half-dashed dresses, however, that would look rather seedy by con- trast, come out very fresh in the country, especially in winter, when the day begins to close in at four. And here we may observe, what a dreary time is that which intervenes between the arrival of a guest and the dinner hour, in the dead winter months in the country. The English are a desperate people for overweighting their conversational powers. They have no idea of penning up their small talk, and bring- ing it to bear in generous flow upon one particular hour; but they keep dribbling out throughout the live-long day, wearying their listen- ers without benefiting themselves — ^just as a careless waggoner scatters his load on the road. Few people are insensible to the advantage of having their champagne brisk, which can only be done by keeping 90 MR, spokge's sporting tour. the cork in ; but few ever think of keeping the cork of their own con- versation in. See a Frenchman — how light and buoyant he trips into a drawing-room, fresh from the satisfactory scrutiny of the looking-glass, with all the news and jokes, and tittle-tattle of the day, in full bloom ! How sparkling and radiant he is, with something smart and pleasant to say to every one ! How thoroughly happy and easy he is ; and what a contrast to phlegmatic John Bull, who stands with his great red fists doubled, looking as if he thought whoever spoke to him would be wanting him to endorse a bill of exchange ! But, as we said be- fore, the dread hour before dinner is an awful time in the country — frightful when there are two hours, and never a subject in common for the company to work upon. Laverick Wells and their mutual acquaintance was all Sponge and Jawleyford's stock-in-trade ; and that was a very small capital to begin upon, for they had been there together too short a time to make much of a purse of conversation. Even the young ladies, with their inquiries after the respective flir- tations — how Miss Sawney and Captain Snubnose were " getting on ? " and whether the rich widow Spankley was likely to bring Sir Tho- mas Greedey to book ? — failed to make up a conversation ; for Sponge knew little of the ins and outs of these matters, his attention having been more directed to Mr. WaiBes than any one else. Still, the mere questions, put in a playful, womanly way, helped the time on, and prevented things coming to that frightfu.1 dead-lock of silence, that causes an involuntary inward exclamation of '' How am /to get through the time with this man ! " There are people who seem to think that sitting and looking at each other constitutes society. Wo- men have a great advantage over men in the talking way ; they have always something to say. Let a lot of women be huddled together throughout the whole of a livelong day, and they will yet have such a balance of conversation at night, as to render it necessary to con- vert a bed-room into a clearing-house, to get rid of it. Men, how- ever, soon get high and dry, especially before dinner ; and a host ought to be at liberty to read the Biot Act, and disperse them to their bed-rooms, till such times as they Avanted to ea» and drink. A most scientifically-sounded gong, beginning low, like distant thunder, and gradually increasing its murmur till it filled the whole mansion with its roar, at length relieved all parties from the labour of further eiforts ; and, looking at his watch, Jawleyford asked Mrs. Jawleyford, in an innocent, indifl'erent sort of way, which was Mr. Sponge's room ; though he had been fussing about it not long before, and dusting the portrait of himself, in his green-and-gold yeomanry uniform, with an old pocket-hauderchief. " The crimson room, my dear," replied the well-drilled Mrs. Jaw- leyford; and Spigot coming with candles, Jawleyford preceded "Mr. Sponge " up a splendid richly-carved oak staircase, of such gradual MR. sponge's SPORTINO TOUR. 91 and easy rise that an invalid might almost have been drawn up it in a garden chair. Passing a short distance along a spacious corridor, Mr. Jawley- ford presently opened a door to the right, and led the way into a large gloomy room, with a little newly-lighted wood tire crackling in an enormous grate, making darkness visible, and drawing the cold out of the walls. We need scarcely say it was that terrible room — the best ; with three creaking, ill-fitting windows, and heavy crimson satiu-damask furniture, so old as scarcely to be able to sustain its own weight. " Ah ! here you are," observed Mr. Jawleyford, as he nearly tripped over Sponge's luggage as it stood by the fire. " Here you are," repeated he, giving the candle a flom-ish, to show the size of the room, and draw it back on the portrait of himself above the mantel- piece. " Ah ! I declare here's an old picture of myself," said he, holding the candle up to the face, as if he hadn't seen it for some time, — " a picture that was done when I was in the Bumperkin yeo- manry," continued he, passing the light before the facings. " That was considered a good likeness at the time," said he, looking affec- tionately at it, and feeling his nose to see if it was still the same size : " ours was a capital corps — one of the best, if not the very best in the service. The inspecting officer always spoke of it in the highest possible terms — especially of my company, which really was just as perfect as anything my Lord Cardigan, or any of your crack disciplinarians, can produce. However, never mind," continued he, lowering the candle, seeing Mr. Sponge didn't enter into the spirit of the thing ; you'll be wanting to dress. You'll find hot water on the table yonder," pointing to the far corner of the room, where the outline of a jug might just be descried ; " there's a bell in the bed if you waut anything ; and dinner will be ready as soon as you are dressed. You needn't make yourself very fine," added he, as he re- •tired ; " for we are only ourselves : hope we shall have some of our neighbours to-morrow or next day, but we are rather badly off for neighbours just here — at least for short-notice neighbours." So say- ing, he disappeared through the dark doorway. The latter statement was true enough, for Jawleyford, though ap- parently such a fine open-hearted, sociable sort of man, was in reality a very quarrelsome, troublesome fellow. He quarrelled with all his neighbours in succession, generally getting through them every two or three years ; and his acquaintance were divided into two classes — the best and the worst fellows under the sun. A stranger revising Jawleyford after an absence of a year or two, would very likely find the best fellows of former days transformed into the worst ones of that. Tlius, Parson Hobanob, that pet victim of country caprice, would come in and go out of season like lamb or asparagus ; Major Moustache and Jawleyford would be as " thick as thieves " one day, 92 MU. sponge's sporting tour. and at daggers drawn tte next ; Squire Squaretoes, of Squaretoes House, and he, were continually kissing or cutting ; and even dis- tance — nine miles of bad road, and, of course, heavy tolls — could not keep the peace between lawyer Seedywig and him. What between rows and reconciliations, Jawleyford was always at work. CHAPTER XVI, THE DINNER. Notwithstanding Jawleyford's recommendation to the contrary, Mr. Sponge made himself an uncommon swell. He put on a despe- rately stiff starcher, secured in front with a large gold fox-head pin with carbuncle eyes ; a fine, fancy-fronted shirt, with a slight tendency to pink, adorned with mosaic-gold-tethered studs of sparkling diamonds (or French paste, as the case might be) ; a white waistcoat with fancy buttons ; a blue coat with bright plain ones, and a velvet collar, black tights, with broad black-and-white Cranbourne- alley looking stockings (socks, rather), and patent leather pumps with gilt buckles — Sponge was proud of his leg. The young ladies, too, turned out rather smart ; for Amelia, find- ing that Emily was going to put on her new yellow-watered silk, instead of a dyed satin she had talked of, made Juliana produce her broad-laced blue satin dress out of the wardrobe in the green dress- ing-room, where it had been laid away in an old table-cloth ; and bound her dark hair with a green-beaded wreath, which Emily met by crowning herself with a chaplet of white roses. Thus attired, with smiles assumed at the door, the young ladies* entered the drawing-room in the full fervour of sisterly animosity. They were very much alike, in size, shape, and face. They were tallish and full-figured. Miss Jawleyford's features being rather more strongly marked, and her eyes a shade darker than her sister's ; while there was a sort of subdued air about her — the result, perhaps, of enlarged intercourse with the world — or maybe of disappointments. Emily's eyes sparkled and glittered, without knowing perhaps why. Dinner was presently announced. It was of the imposing order that people give their friends on a first visit, as though their appetites were larger on that day than on any other. Thej^ dined off plate : the sideboards glittered with the Jawleyford arms on cups, tankards, and salvers; " Brecknel & Turner's " flamed and swealcd in profusion on the table; while every now and then an expiring lamp on the side- boards or brackets proclaimed the unwonted splendour of the scene, MR. sponge's SPOBTTNG TOUR. 93 and added a flavour to the repast not contemplated by the cook. The room, which was large and lofty, being but rarely used, had a cold, uncomfortable feel ; and, if it hadn't been for the looks of the thing, Jawleyford would, perhaps, as soon that they had dined in the little breakfast parlour. Still there was everything very smart ; Spigot in full fig, with a shirt-frill nearly tickling his nose, an acre of white waistcoat, and glorious calves swelling within his gauze-like stockings. The improvised footman went creaking about, as such gentlemen generally do. The style was perhaps better than the repast : still they had turtle- soup (Shell & Tortoise, to be sure, but still turtle-soup) ; while the wines were supplied by the well-known firm of " Wintle & Co." Jaw- leyford sank where he got it, and pretended that it had been " ages " in his cellar : " he really had such a stock that he thought he never should get through it ; " — to wit, two dozen old port at 36s. a dozen, and one dozen at 48s. ; two dozen pale sherry at 36s., and one dozen brown ditto at 48s. ; three bottles of Bucellas, of the " finest quality imported," at 38s. a-dozen ; Lisbon " rich and dry," at 32s. ; and some marvellous creaming champagne at 48s., in which they were indulging when he made the declaration : " Don't wait of me, my dear Mr. Sponge ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, holding up a long needle-case of a glass with the Jawleyfor^ crests emblazoned about; " don't wait of me, pray,'''' repeated he, as Spigot finished dribbling the froth into Sponge's glass ; and Jawleyford, with a flourishing bow and waive of his empty needle-case, drank Mr. Sponge's very good health, adding, " I'm extremely happy to see you at Jawleyford Court." It was then Jawleyford's turn to have a little froth ; and having sucked it up with the air of a man drinking nectar, he set down his glass with a shake of the head, saying, " There's no such wine as that to be got now-a-days." " Capital wine ! — Excellent ! " exclaimed Sponge, who was a bet- ter judge of ale than champagne. " Pray, where might you get it ? " " Impossible to say ! — Impossible to say ! " replied Jawleyford, throwing up his hands with a shake, and shrugging his shoulders. " I have such a stock of wine as is really quite ridiculous." " Quite ridiculous," thought Spigot, who by the aid of a false key, had been through the cellar. Except the " Shell & Tortoise " and "Wintle," the estate supplied the repast. The carp was out of the home-pond ; the tench, or what- ever it was, was out of the mill-pond ; the mutton was from the farm ; the carrot-and-turnip-aud-beet-bedaubed stewed beef was from ditto ; while the garden supplied the vegetables that luxuriated in the mas- sive silver side-dishes. Watson's gun furnished the old hare and partridges that opened tlie ball of the second course ; and tarts, jel- lies, preserves, and custards made their usual appearances. Some first- growth Chateaux Margaux " Wintle," again at 66s., in very richly- 94 MR. sponge's sporting tour. cut decanters, accompanied the old 36s. port ; and apples, pears, nuts, figs, preserved fruits, occupied the splendid green-and-gold dessert set. Everything, of course, was handed about — an ingenious way of tor- menting a person that has " dined." The ladies sat long, Mrs. Jaw- leyford taking three glasses of port (when she could get it) ; and it was a quarter to eight when they rose from the table. Jawleyford then moved an adjournment to the fire ; which Sponge gladly seconded, for he had never been warm since he came into the house, the heat from the fires seeming to go up the chimneys. Spigot set them a little round table, placing the port and claret upon it, and bringing them a plate of biscuits in lieu of the dessert. He then reduced the illumination on the table, and extinguished such of the lamps as had not gone out of themselves. Having cast an approv- ing glance around, and seen that they had what he considered right, he left them to their own devices. " Do you drink port or claret, Mr. Sponge ? " asked Jawleyford, preparing to push whichever he preferred over to him. " I'll take a little ])ort, first, if you please," replied our friend — as much as to say, " I'll finish off with claret." " You'll find that very good, I expect," said Mr. Jawleyford, pass- ing the bottle to him ; " it's '20 wine — very rare wine to get now — was a very rich fruity wine, and was ^long time before it came into drinking. Connoisseurs would give any money for it." " It has still a good deal of body," observed Sponge, turning off a glass and smacking his lips, at the same time holding the glass up to the candle to see the oily mark it made on the side. " Good sound wine — godd sound wine," said Mr. Jawleyford, " Have plenty lighter, if you like." The light wine was made by watering the strong. " Oh no, thank you," replied Mr. Sponge, " oh no, thank you. I like good strong military port." " So do I," said Mr. Jawleyford, " so do I ; only unfortunately it doesn't like me — am obliged to drink claret. When I was in the Buniperkin yeomanry we drank nothing but port." And then Jaw- leyford diverged into a loug rambling dissertation on messes and cavalry tactics, which nearly sent Mr. Sponge asleep. " Where did you say the hounds are to-morrow ? " at length asked he, after jMr. Jawleyford had talked himself out. " To-morrow," repeated Mr. Jawleyford, thoughtfully, to-morrow — they don't hunt to-morrow — not one of their days — next day. Scrambleford-grcen — Scrambleford-greeu — no, no, I'm wrong — Dun- dleton Tower — Dundleton Tower." " How far is that from here ? " asked Mr. Sponge. " Oh, ten miles — say ten miles," replied Mr. Jawleyford. It was sometimes ten, and sometimes fifteen, depending upon whether Mr. Jawleyford wanted the party to go or not. These elastic places, jm. sponge's sporting tour. 95 however, are common in all countries — to sight-seers as well as to hunters. " Close by — close by," one day. " Oh ! a lo-o-ng way from here," another. It is difficult for parties who have nothing in common, to drive a conversation, especially when each keeps jibbing to get upon a private subject of his own. Jawleyford was all for sounding Sponge as to where he came from, and the situation of his property ; for as yet, it must be remembered, he knew nothing of our friend, save what he had gleaned at Laveriek Wells, where certainly all parties concurred in placing him high on the list of " desirables," while Sponge wanted to talk about hunting, the meets of the hounds, and hear what sort of a man Lord Scamperdale was. So they kept playing at cross- purposes, without either getting much out of the other. Jawleyford's intimacy with Lord Scamperdale seemed to have diminished with propinquity, for he now no longer talked of him — " Scamperdale this, and Scamperdale that — Scamperdale, with whom he could do any- thing he liked ; " but he called him " My Lord Scamperdale," and spoke of him in a reverent and becoming way. Distance often lends boldness to the tongue, as the poet Campbell says it Lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue. There are few great men who haven't a dozen people, at least, who " keep them right," as they call it. To hear some of the creatures talk, one would fancy a lord was a lunatic as a matter of course. Spigot at last put an end to their efibrts by announcing that " tea and eofi'ee were ready ! " just as Mr. Sponge buzzed his bottle of port. They then adjourned from the gloom of the large oak-wainscoted dining-room, to the effulgent radiance of the well-lit, highly-gilt drawing-room, where our fair friends had commenced talking Mr. Sponge over as soon as they retired from the dining-room. CHAPTER XVII. THE TEA. " And what do you think of liim ? " asked mamma. " Oh, I think he's very well," replied Emily, gaily. " I should say he was very /oor-lerable," drawled Miss Jawleyford, who reckoned herself rather a judge, and indeed had had some experi- ence of gentlemen. " Tolerable, my dear ! " rejoined Mrs. Jawleyford, " I should say he's very well — rather distingue, indeed." 96 ME. sponge's sporting tour. *'I shouldn't say that,'''' replied Miss Jawleyford; "his height and figure are certainly in his favour, but he isn't quite my idea of a gentleman. He is evidently on good terms with himself; but I should say, if it wasn't for his forwardness, he'd be awkward and uneasy." " He's a foxhunter, you know," observed Emily. " Well, but I don't know that that should make him diflferent to other people," rejoined her sister. " Captain Curzon, and Mr. Lancas- ter, and Mr. Preston were all foxhunters ; but they didn't stare, and blurt, and kick their legs about, as this man does." " Oh, you are so fastidious ! " rejoined her mamma ; " you must take men as you find them." " I wonder where he lives ? " observed Emily, who was quite ready to take our friend as he was. " I wonder where he does live ? " chimed in Mrs. Jawleyford, for the suddenness of the descent had given them no time for inquiry. " Somebody said Manchester^'''' observed Miss Jawleyford, drily. " So much the better," observed Mrs. Jawleyford, " for then he is sure to have plenty of money." " Law, ma ! but you don't 'spose pa would 8ver allow such a thing," retorted Miss, recollecting her papa's frequent exhortations to them to look high. " If he's a landowner," observed Mrs. Jawleyford, " we'll soon find him out in Burke. Emily, my dear," added she, just go into your pa's room, and bring me the ' Commoners ' — you'll find it on the large table, between the ' Peerage ' and the ' Wellington Despatches.' " Emily tripped away to do as she was bid. The fair messenger presently returned, bearing both volumes, richly bound and lettered, with the Jawleyford crests studded down the backs, and an immense coat of arms on the side. A careful search among the S's produced nothing in the shape of Sponge. " Not likely, I should think," observed Miss Jawleyford, with a toss of her head, as her mamma announced the fact. " Well, never mind," replied Mrs. Jawleyford, seeing that only one of the girls could have him, and that one was quite ready ; " never mind, I dare say I shall be able to find out something from himself," and so they dropped the subject. In due time in swaggered our hero, himself, kicking his legs about as men in tights or tops generally do. " May I give you tea or coflfee ? " asked Emily, in the sweetest tone possible, as she raised her finely turned gloveless arm towards where the glittering appendages stood on the large silver tray. " Neither, thank you," said Sponge, throwing himself into an easy- chair beside Mrs. Jawleyford. He then crossed his legs, and cocking up a toe for admiration, began to yawn. MR. sponge's spouting TOUR. 97 " You'll feel tired after your journey ? " observed Mrs. Jawley- forrl. '• No, I'm not," said Sponge, yawning again — a good yawn this time. Miss Jawleyford looked significantly at her sister — a long pause ensued. " I knew a family of your name," at length observed Mrs. Jaw- leyford, in the simple sort of way women begin pumping men. " I knew a family of your name," repeated she, seeing Sponge was half asleep — " the Sponges of Toady Hall. Pray are they any relation of yours ? " " Oh — ah — yes," blurted Sponge : " I suppose they are. The fact is — the — haw — Sponges — haw — are rather a large family — haw. Meet them almost every where." "You don't live in the same county, perhaps?" observed Mrs. Jawleyford. " No, we don't," replied he with a yawn. " Is yours a good hunting country; " asked Jawleyford, thinking to sound him in another way. " No ; a devilish bad 'un," replied Sponge, adding with a grunt, " or I wouldn't be here." " Who hunts it ? " asked Mr. Jawleyford. " Why, as to that — haw " — replied Sponge, stretching out his arms and legs to their fullest extent, and yawning most vigorously — " why, as to that, I can hardly say which you would call my country, for I have to do with so many ; but I should say, of all the countries I am — haw — connected with — haw — Tom Scratch's is the worst." Mr. Jawleyford looked at Mrs. Jawleyford as a counsel who thinks he has made a grand hit looks at a jury before he sits down, and said no more. Mrs. Jawleyford looked as innocent as most jurymen do after one of these forensic exploits. — Mr. Sponge beginning his nasal recreations, Mrs. Jawleyford motioned the ladies off to bed — Mr, Sponge and hii host presently followed. 5 98 MR. sponge's sporting toxtr. CHAPTEK XVIII. THE evening's REFLECTIONS. " Well, I think he'll do," said our friend to himself, as having reached his bed-room, in accordance with modern fashion, he applied a cedar match to the now somewhat better burnt-up fire, for the purpose of lighting a cigar — a cigar ! in the state-bedroom of Jaw- leyford Court. Having divested himself of his smart blue coat and white waistcoat, and arrayed himself in a gray dressing-gown, he adjusted the loose cushions of a recumbent chair, and soused himself into its luxurious depths for a " think over." " He has money," mused Sponge, between the copious whiffs of the cigar, " splendid style he lives in, to be sure " (puff), continued he, after another long draw, as he adjusted the ash at the end of the cigar. "Two men in livery" (puff), "one out, can't be done for nothing" (puff). What a profusion of plate, too 1 " (whiff) — "de- clare I never" (puff) "saw such" (whiff, puff) "magnificence in the whole course of my " (whiff, puff) " life." The cigar being then well under way, he sucked and puffed and whiffed in an apparently vacant stupor, his legs crossed, and his eyes fixed on a projecting coal between the lower bars, as if intent on watching the alternations of flame and gas ; though in reality he was running all the circumstances through his mind, comparing them with his past experience, and speculating on the probable result of the present adventure. He had seen a good deal of service in the matrimonial wars, and was entitled to as many bars as the most distinguished peninsular veteran. No woman with money, or the reputation of it, ever wanted an offer while he was in the way, for he would accommodate her at the second or third interview; and always pressed for an immediate fulfilment, lest the " cursed lawyers " should interfere and interrupt their felicity. Somehow or other, the "cursed lawyers" always had interfered ; and as sure as they walked in, Mr. Sponge walked out. He couldn't bear the idea of their coarse, inquisitive inqniries. He was too much of a gentleman ! Love, light as air, at sight of human ties Spreads his light wings and in a moment flies. So Mr. Sponge fled, consoling himself with the reflection that there was no harm done, and hoping for " better luck next time." He roved from flower to flower like a butterfly, touching here, alighting there, but always passing away with apparent indifference, MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 99 He knew if he couldn't square matters at short notice, he would have no better chance with an extension of time; so, if he saw things taking the direction of inquiry, he would just laugh the offer off, pretend he was only feeling his way — saw he was not acceptable — sorry for it — and away he would go to somebody else. He looked upon a woman much in the light of a horse ; if she didn't suit one man, she would another, and there was no harm in trying. So he puffed and smoked, and smoked and puffed — gliding gradually into wealth and prosperity. A second cigar assisted his comprehension considerably — just as a second bottle of wine not only helps men through their difficulties, but shows them the way to unbounded wealth. Many of the bright railway schemes of former days, we make no doubt, were concocted under the inspiring influence of the bottle. Sponge now saw every- thing as he wished. All the errors of his former days were apparent to him. He saw how indiscreet it was confiding in Miss Trickery's cousin, the major ; why the rich widow at Chesterfield had chasseed him; and how he was done out of the beautiful Miss Rainbow, with her beautiful estate, with its lake, its heronry, and its perpetual ad- vowson. Other mishaps he also considered. Having disposed of the past, he then turned his attention to the future. Here were two beautiful girls apparently full of money, be- tween whom there wasn't the toss-up of a half-penny for choice. Most exemplary parents, too, who didn't seem to care a farthing about money. He then began speculating on what the girls would have. " Great house — great establishment — great estate, doubtless. Why, confound it," continued he, casting his heavy eye lazily around, " here's a room as big as a field in a cramped country ! Can't have less than fifty thousand a-piece, I should say, at the least. Jawleyford, to be sure, is young," thought he ; " may live a long time " (puff). " If Mrs. J. were to die (Curse — the cigar's burnt my lips " ), added he, throwing the rem ant into the fire, and rolling out of the chair to prepare for turning into bed. If any one had told Sponge that there was a rich papa and mamma on the look-out merely for amiable young men to bestow their fair daughters upon, he would have laughed them to scorn, and said, " Why, you fool, they are only laughing at you ; " or, " Don't you see they are playing you off against somebody else ? " But our hero, like other men, was blind where he himself was concerned, and con- cluded that he was the exception to the general rule. Mr. and Mrs. Jawleyford had their consultation too. " Well," said Mr. Jawleyford, seating himself on the high wire fender immediately below a marble bust of himself on the mantel- piece; I think he'll do." " Oh, no doubt," replied Mrs. Jawleyford, who never saw any 100 MR. sponge's sporting tour. difficulty ill the way of a matcli; I should say be is a very nice young man," continued she. " Rather brusque in his manner, perhaps," observed Jawleyford, who was quite the " lady " himself. " I wonder what be has ? " added he, fingering away at his whiskers. "He's rich, I've no doubt," replied Mrs. Jawleyford. " What makes you think so ? " asked her loving spouse. "I don't know," replied Mrs. Jawleyford; " somehow I feel cer- tain be is — but I can't tell why — all foxhunters are." " I don't know that," replied Jawleyford, who knew some very poor ones. "I should like to know what he has," continued Jawley- ford, musingly, looking up at the deeply corniced ceiling as if he were calculating the chances among the filagree ornaments of the centre. " A hundred thousand, perhaps," suggested Mrs. Jawleyford, who only knew two sums — fifty and a hundred thousand. " That's a vast of money," replied Jawleyford, with a slight shake of the head. " Fifty at least, then," suggested Mrs. Jawleyford, coming down half way at once. " Well, if he has that, he'll do," rejoined Jawleyford, who also bad come down considerably in bis expectations since the vision of his railway days, at whose bright light be had burnt his fingers. " He was said to have an immense fortune — I forget bow much — at Laverick Wells," observed Mrs. Jawleyford. "Well, we'll see," said Jawleyford; adding, "I suppose either of the girls will be glad enough to take him? " " Trust them for that," replied Mrs. Jawleyford, with a knowing smile and nod of the head; "trust them for that," repeated she. " Though Amelia does turn up her nose and pretend to be fine, rely upon it she only wants to be sure that he's worth having." " Emily seems ready enough at all events," observed Jawleyford. " She'll never get the chance," observed Mrs. Jawleyford. " Amelia is a very prudent girl, and won't commit herself, but she knows how to manage the men." " Well, then," said Jawleyford, with a hearty yawn, " I suppose we may as well go to bed." So saying, he took his candle and retired. MR. PPONGE S SPORTING TOUR. 101 CHAPTER XIX. THE AVET DAY. When the dirty slip-shod housemaid came in the morning with her blacksmith's-looking tool-box to light Mr. Sponge's fire, a riotous winter's day was in the full swing of its gloomy, deluging power. The wind howled, and roared, and whistled, and shrieked, playing a sort of asolian harp amongst the towers, pinnacles, and irregular castleisations of the house ; while the old casements rattled and shook, as though some one were trying to knock them in. " Hang the day ! " muttered Sponge from beneath the bedclothes ; " What the deuce is a man to do with himself on such a day as this, in the country? '' thinking how much better he would be flattening his nose against the coffee-room window of the Bantam, or strolling through the horse-dealers' stables in Piccadilly or Oxford-street. Presently the over-night chair before the fire, with the picture of Jawleyford in the Bumperkin yeomanry, as seen through the parted curtains of the spacious bed, recalled his over-night speculations, and he began to think that perhaps he was just as well where he was. He then " backed " his ideas to where he had left off, and again began speculating on the chances of his position. " Deuced fine girls," said he, " both of em: wonder what he'll give 'em down ?" — recurring to his over-night speculations, and hitting upon the point at which he had burnt his lips with the end of the cigar — namely, Jawleyford's youth, and the possibility of his marrying again if 5lrs. Jawleyford were to die. " It won't do to raise up difficulties for one's-self, how- ever," mused he; so, kicking off the bedclothes, he raised himself instead, and making for a window, began to gaze upon his expectant territory. It was a terrible day; the ragged, spongy clouds drifted heavily along, and the lowering gloom was only enlivened by the occasional driving rush of the tempest. Earth and sky were pretty much the same grey, damp, disagreeable hue. " Well," said Sponge to himself, having gazed sufficiently on the uninviting landscape, " it's just as well it's not a hunting day — should have got terribly soused. Must get through the time as well as I can — girls to talk to — house to see. Hope I've brought my Mogg," added he, turning to his portmanteau, and diving for his " Ten Thousand Cab Fares." Having found tiie invaluable volume, his almost constant study, he then proceeded to array himself in what he considered the most captivating apparel ; a new wide-sleeved dock- tail coatee, with outside pockets placed very low, faultless drab 102 MR. sponge's sporting tour. trousers, a buff waistcoat, with a cream-coloured once-round silk tie, secured by red cornelian cross-bars set in gold, for a pin. Thus at- tired, with " Mogg " in his pocket, he swaggered down to the break- fast-room, which he hit off by means of listening at the doors till he heard the sound of voices within. Mrs. Jawleyford and the young ladies were all smiles and smirks, and there were no symptoms of Miss Jawleyford's hauteur percep- tible. They all came forward and shook hands with our friend most cordially. Mr. Jawleyford, too, was all flourish and compliment ; now tilting at the weather, now congratulating himself upon having secured Mr. Sponge's society in the house. That leisurely meal of protracted ease, a country-house break- fast, being at length accomplished, and the ladies having taken their departure, Mr. Jawleyford looked out on the terrace, upon which the angry rain was beating the standing water into bubbles, and ob- serving that there was no chance of getting out, asked Mr. Sponge if he could amuse himself in the house. *' Oh, yes," replied he, "got a book in my pocket." " Ah, I suppose — the ' New Monthly,' perhaps?" observed Mr. Jawleyford. " No," replied Sponge. " Dizzy's 'Life of Bentinck,' then, I daresay," suggested Jawley- ford; adding, " I'm reading it myself." " No, nor that either," replied Sponge, with a knowing look ; " a much more useful work, I assure you," added he, pulling the little purple-backed volume out of his pocket, and reading the gilt letters on the back ; " ' Mogg's Ten Thousand Cab Fares, price one shil- ling!'" " Indeed," exclaimed Mr. Jawleyford, " well, I should never have guessed that." " I daresay not," replied Sponge, ^'I daresay not; it's a book I never travel without. It's invaluable in town, and you may study it to great advantage in the country. With Mogg in my hand, I can almost fancy myself in both places at once. Omnibus guide," added he, turning over the leaves, and reading, " Acton five, from the end of Oxford-street and the Edger Road — see Ealing; Edmonton seven, from Shoreditch Church — ' Green Man and Still,' Oxford- street — Shepherd's bush and -Starch Green, Bank, and Whitechapel — Tooting — Totteridge — Wandsworth : in short every place near town. Then the cab fares are truly invaluable; you have ten thousand of them here," said he, tapping the book, " and you may calculate as many more for yourself as ever you like. Nothing to do but sit in an arm-ehair on a wet day like this, and say. If from the Mile End turnpike to the ' Castle ' on the Kingsland Road is so much, how much should it be to the * Yorkshire Stingo,' or Pine- Apple Place, Maida Vale ? And you measure by other fares till I MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 103 you get a3 near the place you want as you can, if it isn't set down in black and white to your hand in the book." " Just so," said Jawleyford, " just so. It must be a very useful work indeed, very useful work. I'll get one — I'll get one. How much did j'ou say it was — a guinea ? a guinea ? " "A shilling,'''' replied Sponge, adding, " you may have mine for a guinea if you like." " By jove, what a day it is ! " observed Jawleyford, turning the conversation, as the wind dashed the hard sleet against the window like a shower of. pebbles. " Lucky to have a good house over one's head, such weather; and, by the way, that reminds me, I'll show you my new gallery and collection of curiosities — pictures, busts, marbles, antiques, and so on; there'll be fires on, and we shall be just as well there as here." So saying, Jawleyford led the way through a dark, intricate, shabby passage, to where a much gilded white door, with a handsome crimson curtain over it, announced the entrance to something better. " Now, " said Mr. Jawleyford, bowing as he threw open the door, and motioned, or rather flourished, his guest to enter — " now," said he, "you shall see what you shall see." Mr. Sponge entered accordingly, and found himself at the end of a gallery tifty feet by twenty, and fourteen high, lighted by skylights and small windows round the top. There were fires in handsome Caen-stone chimney-pieced fireplaces on either side, a large timepiece and an organ at the far end, and sundry white basins scattered about, catching the drops from the skylights. " Hang the rain ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, as he saw it trickling over a river scene of Van Goyen's (gentlemen in a yacht, and figures in boats), and drip, drip, dripping on to the head of an infant Bacchus below. " He wants an umbrella, that young gentleman," observed Sponge, as Jawleyford proceeded to dry him with his handkerchief. " Fine thing," observed Jawleyford, starting off to a side, and pointing to it ; " fine thing — Italian marble — by Frere — cost a vast of money — was offered three hundred for it. Are you a judge of these things ? " asked Jawleyford ; " are you a judge of these things ? " " A little," replied Sponge, " a little ; " thinking he might as well see what his intended father-in-law's personal property was like. " There's a beautiful thing ! " observed Jawleyford, pointing to another group. " I picked that up for a mere nothing — twenty guineas — worth two hundred at least. Lipsalve, the great picture- dealer in Gammon Passage, offered me Murillo's ' Adoration of the Virgin and Shepherds,' for which he showed me a receipt for a hun- dred and eighty-five, for it." " Indeed ! " replied Sponge, " what is it ? " " It's a Bacchanal group, after Poussin, sculptured by Marin. I 104 MR. sponge's sporting tour. bought it at Lord Breakdown's sale ; it happened +o be a wet day — much such a day as this — and things went for nothing. This you'll know, I presume ? " observed Jawleyford, laying his hand on a life- sized bust of Diana, in Italian marble. " No, I don't," replied Sponge. " No ! " exclaimed Jawleyford ; " I thought everybody had known this : this is my celebrated ' Diana,' by Noindon — one of the finest things in the world. Louis Philippe sent an agent over to this country expressly to buy it." " Why didn't you sell it to him ? " asked Sponge. " Didn't want the money," replied Jawleyford, " didn't want the money. In addition to which, though a king, he was a bit of a screw, and we couldn't agree upon terms. This," observed Jawleyford, " is a vase of the Cinque Cento period — a very fine thing ; and this," laying his hand on the crown of a much-frizzed, barber's-window- looking bust, " of course you know ? " " No, I don't," replied Sponge. " No ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, in astonishment. " No," repeated Sponge. " Look again, my dear fellow ; you must know it," observed Jawleyford. " I suppose it's meant for you," at last replied Sponge, seeing his host's anxiety. " Meant ! my dear fellow ; why, don't you think it like ? " " Why there's a resemblance, certainly," said Sponge, " now that one knows. But I shouldn't have guessed it was you." " Oh, my dear Mr. Sponge ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, in a tone of mortification. " Do you really mean to say you don't think it like ? " . " Why, yes, it's like," replied Sponge, seeing which way his host wanted it ; " it's like, certainly ; the want of expression in the eye makes such a difference between a bust and a picture." " True," replied Jawleyford, comforted — " true," repeated he, looking afi"ectionately at it; "I should say it was very like — like as anything can be. You are rather too much above it there, you see ; sit down here," continued he, leading Sponge to an ottoman surround- ing a huge model of the column in the Place VendOme, that stood in the middle of the room — " sit down here noAV, and look, and say if you don't think it like ? " " Oh, very like," replied Sponge, as soon as he had seated him- self. " I see it now, directly ; the mouth is yours to a T." " And the chin ? It's my chin, isn't it ? " asked Jawleyford. " Yes ; and the nose, and the forehead, and the whiskers, and the hair, and the shape of the head, and everything. Oh ! I see it now as plain as a pikestaif," observed Sponge. "I thought you would," rejoined Jawleyford, comforted — "I »iR. sponge's spouting tour. • 105 thought you would; it's generally considered an excellent likeness — so it should, indeed, for it cost a vast of money — fifty guineas ! to say nothing of tlio lotus-leafed pedestal it's on. That's another of me," continued Jawleyford, pointing to a bust above the fireplace, on the opposite side of the gallery ; " done some years since — ten or twelve, at least — not so like as this, but still like. That portrait up there, just above the ' Finding of Moses,' by Poussin," pointing to a portrait of himself attitudinising, with his hand on his hip, and frock-coat well thrown back, so as to show his figure and the silk lining to advantage, " was done the other day, by a very rising young artist ; though he has hardly done me justice, perhaps — particularly in the nose, which he's made far too thick and heavy ; and the right hand, if anything, is rather clumsy; otherwise the colouring is good, and there is a considerable deal of taste in the arrangement of the background, and so on." " What book is it you are pointing to ? " asked Sponge. " It's not a book," replied Mr. Jawleyford, " it's a plan — a plan of this gallery, in fact. I am supposed to be giving the final order for the erection of the very edifice we are now in." " And a very handsome building it is," observed Sponge, thinking he would make it a shooting-gallery when he got it. " Yes, it's a handsome thing in its way," assented Jawleyford ; ** better if it had been water-tight, perhaps," added he, as a big drop splashed upon the crown of his head. " The contents must be very valuable," observed Sponge. " Very valuable," replied Jawleyford. " There's a thing I gave two hundred and fifty guineas for — that vase. It's of Parian mar- ble, of the Cinque Cento period, beautifully sculptured in a dance of Bacchanals, arabesques, and chimera figures, it was considered cheap. Those fine monkeys in Dresden china playing on musical instruments, were forty ; those bronzes of scaramouches, on or-molu plinths were seventy ; that or-molu clock, of the style of Louis Quinze, by Le Roy, was eighty ; those Sevres vases were a hundred — mounted, you see, in or-molu, with lily candelabra for ten lights. The handles," continued he, drawing Sponge's attention to them, " are very hand- some — composed of satyrs holding festoons of grapes and flowers, which surround the neck of the vase ; on the sides are pastoral sub- jects, painted in the highest style — nothing can be more beautiful, or more chaste." " Nothing," assented Sponge. " The pictures, I should think, are most valuable," observed Jawleyford. " My friend Lord Sparklebury said to me the last time he was here — he's now in Italy, increasing his collection — 'Jawley- ford, old boy,' said he, for we are very intimate — ^just like brothers, in fact ; ' Jawleyford. old boy, I wonder whether your collection or mine would fetch most money, if they were Christie-&-Manson'd.' 5* 106 • MR. sponge's sporting tour. * Oh, yoTir lordship,' said I, ' your Guidos, and Ostades, and Pous- sins, and Velasquez, are not to be surpassed.' ' True,' replied his lordship, ' they are fine — very fine ; but you have the Murillos. I'd like to give you a good round sum,' added he, ' to pick out half-a- dozen pictures out of your gallery.' Do you understand pictures?" continued Jawleyford, turning short on his friend Sponge. " A little," replied Sponge, in a tone that might mean either yes or no — a great deal or nothing at all. Jawleyford then took him and worked him through his collection — talked of light and shade, and tone, and depth of colouring, tints, and pencillings ; and put Sponge here and there and everywhere to catch the light (or rain, as the case might be) ; made him convert his hand into an opera-glass, and occasionally put his head between his legs to get an upside-down-view — a feat that Sponge's equestrian experience made him pretty well up to. So they looked, and admired, and criticised, till Spigot's all-important figure came looming up the gallery, and announced that luncheon was ready. " Bless me ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, pulling a most diminutive Geneva watch, hung with pencils, pistol-keys, and other curiosities, out of his pocket ; " Bless me, who'd have thought it ? One o'clock, I declare ! Well, if this doesn't prove the value of a gallery on a wet day, I don't know what does. However," said he, " we must tear ourselves away for the present, and go and see what the ladies are about." If ever a man may be exciased for indulging in luncheon, it cer- tainly is on a pouring wet day (when he eats for occupation), or when he is making love ; both which excuses Mr. Sponge had to oifer, so he just sat down and ate as heartily as the best of the party, not except- ing his host himself, who was an excellent hand at luncheon. Jawleyford tried to get him back to the gallery after luncheon, but a look from his wife intimated that Sponge was Avanted else- where, so he quietly saw him carried ofi" to the music-room ; and presently the notes of the " grand piano," and full clear voices of his daughters, echoing along the passage, intimated that they were trying what efi"ect music would have upon him. When Mrs. Jawleyford looked in about an hour after, she found Mr. Sponge sitting over the fire with his " Mogg " in his hand, and the young ladies with their laps full of company-work, keeping up a sort of crossfire of conversation in the shape of question and answer. Mrs. Jawleyford's coinpany making matters worse, they soon became tediously agreeable. In course of time, Jawleyford entered the room, with — " My dear Mr. Sponge, your groom has come up to know about your horse to-morrow. I told him it was utterly impossible to think of hunting, but he says he must have his orders from you. I should say," added Jawleyford, "it is quite out of the question — madness to think of it; much better in the house, such weather." MR. sponge's SPOKTING TOUR. 107 " I don't know that," replied Sponge, " the rains come down, and though the country will ride heavy, I don't see why we shouldn't have sport after it." " But the glass is falling, and the wind's gone round the wrong way; the moon changed this morning — everything, in short, indi- cates continued wet," replied Jawleyford. " The rivers are all swollen, and the low grounds under water; besides, my dear fellow, consider the distance — consider the distance ; sixteen miles, if it's a yard." • " What, Duntleton Tower ! " exclaimed Sponge, recollecting that Jawleyford had said it was only ten the night before. " Sixteen miles, and bad road," replied Jawleyford. " The deuce it is ! " muttered Sponge; adding, " Well, I'll go and see my groom, at all events." So saying, he rang the bell as if the house was his own, and desired Spigot to show him the way to his servant. Leather, of course, was in the servants'-hall, refreshing himself with cold meat and ale, after his ride up from Lucksford. Finding that he had ridden the hack up, he desired Leather to leave him there. " Tell the groom I must have him put up," said Sponge ; " and you ride the chestnut on in the morning. How far is it to Duntleton Tower ? " asked he. " Twelve or thirteen miles, they say, from here," replied Leather; " nine or ten from Lucksford." "Well, that'll do," said Sponge; "you tell the groom here to have the hack saddled for me at nine o'clock, and you ride Multum in Parvo quietly on, either to the meet, or till I overtake you," " But how am I to get back to Lucksford ? " asked Leather, cocking up a foot to show how thinly he was shod. " Oh, just as you can," replied Sponge ; "get the groom here to set you down with his master's hacks. I daresay they haven't been out to-day, and it'll do them good." So saying, Mr. Sponge left his valuable servant to do the best he could for himself. Having returned to the music-room, with the aid of an old county map, Mr. Sponge proceeded to trace his way to Duntleton Tower; aided, or rather retarded, by Mr. Jawleyford, who kept pointing out all sorts of difficulties, till, if Mr. Sponge had followed his advice, he would have made eighteen or twenty miles of the distance. Sponge, however, being used to scramble about strange countries, saw the place was to be accomplished in ten or eleven. Jawleyford was sure he would lose himself, and Sponge was equally confident that he wouldn't. At length the glad sound of the gong put an end to all further ar- gument; and the inmates of Jawleyford Court retired, candle in hand, to their respective apartments, to adorn for a repetition of the yester- 108 MR. sponge's sporting tour. day's spread, -with the addition of the Rev. Mr. Hobanob's company, to say grace, and praise the " Wintle." An appetiteless dinner was succeeded by tea and music, as before. The three elegant French clocks in the drawing-room being at variance, one being three-quarters of an hour before the slowest, and twenty minutes before the next, Mr. Hobanob (much to the hor- ror of Jawleyford) having nearly fallen asleep with his Sevres coffee- cup in his hand, at last drew up his great silver watch by its jack- chain, and finding it was a quarter past ten, prepared to decamp — taking as affectionate a leave of the ladies as if he had been going to China. He was followed by Mr. Jawleyford, to see him pocket his pumps, and also by Mr. Sponge, to see what sort of a night it was. The sky was clear, stars sparkled in the firmament, and a young crescent moon shone with silvery brightness o'er the scene. "That'll do," said Sponge, as he eyed it; "no haze there. Come," added he to his papa- in-law, as Hobanob's steps died out on the terrace, " you'd better go to-morrow." " Can't," replied Jawleyford ; " go next day, perhaps — Scramble- ford Green — better place — much. You may lock up," said he, turn- ing to Spigot, who, with both footmen, was in attendance to see Mr. Hobanob off; " you may lock up, and tell the cook to have break- fast ready at nme precisely.''^ " Oh,- never mind about breakfast for me," interposed Sponge, " I'll have some tea or coffee and chops, or boiled ham and eggs, or whatever's ^ioing, in my bed-room," said he, " so never mind altering your hour for me." " Oh, but, my dear fellow, we'll all breakfast together " (Jawley- ford had no notion of standing two breakfasts), " we'll all breakfast together," said he ; " no trouble, I assure you — rather the contrary. Say half-past eight — half-past eight, Spigot ! to a rainuie, mind." And Sponge, seeing there was no help for it, bid the ladies good night, and tumbled off to bed with little expectation of punc- tuality. MB. sponge's sporting toxtr. 109 CHAPTER XX. THE F. H. H. NoE. was Sponge wrong in his conjecture, for it was a quarter to nine ere Spigot appeared with the massive silver urn, followed by the trainband bold, bearing the heavy implements of breakfast. Then, though the young ladies were punctual, smiling, and afi'able as usual, Mrs. Jawleyford was absent, and she had the keys ; so it was nearly nine before Mr. Sponge got his fork into his first mutton chop. Jawleyford was not exactly pleased ; he thought it didn't look well for a young man to prefer hunting to the society of his lovely and accomplished daughters. Hunting was all very well occasionally, but it did not do to make a business of it. This, however, he kept to himself. " You'll have a fine day, my dear Mr. Sponge," said he, extending a hand, as he found our friend brown-booted and red-coated, working away at the breakfast. " Yes," said Sponge, munching away for hard life. In less than ten minutes, he managed to get as much down as, with the aid of a knotch of bread that he pocketed, he thought would last him through the day ; and, with a hasty adieu, he hurried ofl" to find the stables, to get his hack. The piebald was saddled, bridled, and turned round in the stall ; for all servants that are worth anything like to further hunting operations. With the aid of the groom's instructions, who accompanied him out of the court-yard, Sponge was enabled to set oft' at a hard canter, cheered by the groom's observation, that " he thought he would be there in time." On, on he went; now specula- ting on a turn ; now pulling a scratch map he had made on a bit of paper out of his waistcoat-pocket ; now inquiring the name of any place he saw of any person he met. So he proceeded for five or six miles without much difficulty ; the road , though not all turnpike, being mainly over good sound township ones. It was at the village of Swineley, with its chubby-towered church and miserable hut-like cottages, that his troubles were to begin. He had two sharp turns to make — to ride through a straw-yard, and leap over a broken-dowu wall at the corner of a cottage — to get into Swaithing Green Lane, and so cut ofi" an angle of two miles. The road then became a bridle one, and was, like all bridle ones, very plain to those who know them, and very puzzling to those who don't. It was evidently a little- frequented road ; and* what with looking out for foot marks (now nearly obliterated by the recent rains), and speculating on what 110 MR. sponge's sporting tour. queer corners of the fields the gates would be in, Mr. Sponge found it necessary to reduce his pace to a A^ery moderate trot. Still he had made good way ; and supposing they gave a quarter-of-an-hour's law, and he had not been deceived as to distance, he thought he should get to the meet about the time. His horse, too, would be there, and perhaps Lord Scamperdale might give a little extra law on that account. He then began speculating on what sort of a man his lordship was, and the probable nature of his reception. He began to wish that Jawleyford had accompanied him, to introduce him. Not that Sponge was shy, but still he thought that Jawley- ford's presence would do him good. Lord Scamperdale's hunt was not the most polished in the world. The hounds and the horses were a good deal better bred than the men. Of course his lordship gave the tone to the whole ; and being a coarse, broad, barge-built sort of a man, he had his clothes to cor- respond, and looked like a drayman in scarlet. He wore a great round flat-brimmed hat, which being adopted by the hunt generally, procured it the name of the " F. H. H.," or "Flat Hat Hunt." Our readers, we daresay, have noticed it figuring away, in the list of hounds during the winter, along with the H. H.'s, " V. W. H.'s" and other initialized packs. His lordship's clothes were of the large, roomy, baggy, abundant order, with great pockets, great buttons, and lots of strings flying out. Instead of tops, he sported leather leggings, which at a distance gave him the appearance of riding with his trousers up to his knees. These the hunt too adopted ; and his " particular," Jack, (Jack Spraggon) the man whom he mounted, and who was made much in his own mould, sported, like his patron, a pair of great broad-rimmed tortoise-shell spectacles of con- siderable power. Jack was always at his lordship's elbow ; and it was " Jack " this, " Jack " that, " Jack " something, all day long. But we must return to Mr. Sponge, whom we left working his way through the intricate fields. At last he got through them, and into Red Pool Common, which, by leaving the windmill to the right, he cleared pretty cleverly, and entered upon a district still wilder and drearier than any he had traversed. Pewits screamed and hovered over land that seemed to grow little but rushes and water-grasses, with occasional heather. The ground poached and splashed as he went ; worst of all, time was nearly up. In vain Sponge strained his eyes in search of Duntleton Tower. In vain he fancied every high, sky-line-breaking place in the distance was the much wished-for spot. Duntleton Tower was no more a tow- er than it was a town, and would seem to have been christened by the rule of contrary, for it was nothing but a great flat open space, with- out object or incident to note it. Sponge, however, was not destined to see ft. As he went floundering along through an apparently interminable MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. Ill and almost bottomless lane, whose sunken places and deep ruts were filled with clayey water which played the very deuce with the cords and brown boots, the light note of a hound fell on his ear, and almost at the same instant, a something that he would have taken for a dog, had it not been for the note of the hound, turned, as it were, from him, and went in a contrary direction. Sponge reined in the piebald, and stood transfixed. It was, in- deed, the fox ! — a magnificent full-brushed fellow, with a slight ten- dency to grey along the back, and going with the light spiry ease of an animal full of strength and running. "I wish I mayn't ketch it," said Sponge to himself, shuddering at the idea of having headed him. It was, however, no time for thinking. The cry of hounds became more distinct — nearer and nearer they came, fuller and more melo- dious ; but, alas ! it was no music to Sponge. Presently the cheering of hunters was heard — " For — rard! For — rard! " and anon the rate of a whip further back. Another second, and hounds, horses, and men were in view, streaming away over the large pasture on the left. There was a high, straggling fence between Sponge and the field, thick enough to prevent their identifying him, but not sufficiently high to screen him altogether. Sponge pulled round the piebald, and gathered himself together like a man going to be shot. The hounds came tearing full cry to where he was ; there was a breast-high scent, and every one seemed to have it. They charged the fence at a wat- tled pace a few yards below where he sat, and flying across the deep dirty lane, dashed full cry into the pasture beyond. " Hie hack ! " cried Sponge. " Hie hack! " trying to turn them ; but instead of the piebald carrying him in front of the pack, as Sponge wanted, he took to rearing, and plunging, and pawing the air. The hounds meanwhile dashed jealously on without a scent, till first one and then another feeling ashamed, gave in ; and at last a general lull succeeded the recent joyous cry. Awful period ! terrible to any one, but dreadful to a stranger ! Though Sponge was in the road, he well knew that no one has any business anywhere but with hounds, when a fox is astir. " Hold hard ! " was now the cry, and the perspiring riders and lathered steeds came to a stand-still. " Twang — twang — twang — ," went a shrill horn ; and a couple of whips, singling themselves out from the field, flew over a fence to where the hounds were casting. " Twang — twang — tivang — ," went the horn again. Meanwhile Sponge sat enjoying the following observations, which a westerly wind wafted into his ear. " Oh, d n me ! that man in the lane's headed the fox," puffed one. " Who is it ? " gasped another. 112 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Tom "Washball ! " exclaimed a third. " Heads more foxes than any man in the country," puflfed a fourth. " Always nicking and skirting," exclaimed a fifth " Never comes to the meet," added a sixth. " Come on a cow to-clay," observed another. " Always chopping and changing," added another ; " he'll come on a girafi"e next." Having commenced his career with the " F. H. H." so inauspi- ciously and yet escaped detection, Mr. Sponge thought of letting Tom Washball enjoy the honours of his faux-pas, and of sneaking quietly home as soon as the hounds hit off the scent ; but unluckily just as they were crossing the lane, what should heave in sight, cantering along at his leisure, but the redoubtable Multum in Parvo, who, having got rid of old Leather by bumping and thumping his leg against a gate-post, was enjoying a line of his own. " Whoay ! " cried Sponge, as he saw the horse quickening his pace to have a shy at the hounds as they crossed. " Who — o — a — y ! " roared he, brandishing his whip, and trying to turn the piebald round ; but no, the brute wouldn't answer the bit, and dreading lest, in addition to heading the fox, he should kill " the best hound in the pack," Mr. Sponge threw himself oif, regardless of the mud-path in which he lit, and caught the runaway as he tried to dart past. " For-rard I — -for-rard! — -for-rard! " was again the cry, as the hounds hit off the scent ; while the late pausing, panting sportsmen tackled vigorously with their steeds, and swept onward like the ca- reering wind. Mr. Sponge, albeit somewhat perplexed, had still sufficient pres- ence of mind too see the necessity of immediate action ; and though he had so lately contemplated beating a retreat, the unexpected ap- pearance of Parvo altered the state of affairs. " Now or never," said he, looking first at the disappearing field, and then for the non-appearing Leather. " Hang it ! I may as well see the run," added he ; so hooking the piebald on to an old stone gate-post that stood in the ragged fence, and lengthening a stirrup- leather, he vaulted into the saddle, and began lengthening the other as he went. It was one of Parvo's going days ; indeed, it was that that old Leather and he had quarrelled about — Parvo wanting to follow the hounds, while Leather wanted to wait for his master. And Parvo had the knack of going, as well as tlie occasional inclination. Although such a drayhorse-looking animal, he could throw the ground behind him amazingly ; and the deep-holding clay in which he now found himself was admirably suited to his short powerful legs and enormous stride. The consequence was, that he was very soon up with the hind- most horsemen. These he soon passed, and was presently among MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 113 those ■who ride hard when there is nothing to stop them. Such time as these sportsmen could now spare from looking out ahead was devo- ted to Sponge, whom they eyed with the utmost astonishment, as if he had dropped from the clouds. A strauo-er — a real out-and-out stranger — had not visited their remote regions since the days of poor Nimrod. " Who could it be?" But " the pace," as Nimrod used to say, " was too good to inquire." A little further on, and Sponge drew upon the great guns of the hunt — the men who ride to hounds, and not after them ; the same who had criticised him through the fence — Mr. AVake, Mr. Fossick, Parson Blossomnose, Mr. Fjle, Lord Scamperdale, Jack himself, and others. Great was their astonishment at tlie apparition, and incoherent the observations they dropped as they galloped on. " It isn't Wash, after all," whispered Fyle into Blossomnose's ear, as they rode through a gate together. " No-o-o," replied the nose, eyeing Sponge intently. " What a coat ! '' whispered one. " Jacket," replied the other. " Lost his brush," observed a third, winking at Sponge's docked tail. " He's going to ride over us all," snapped Mr. Fossick, whom Sponge passed at a hand-canter, as the former was blobbing and floun- dering about the deep ruts leading out of a turnip-field. " He'll catch it just now," said Mr. Wake, eyeing Sponge drawing upon his lordship and Jack, as they led the field as usual. Jack be- ing at a respectful distance behind his great patron, espied Sponge first ; and having taken a good stare at him through his formidable specta- cles, to satisfy himself that it was nobody he knew — a stare that Sponge returned as well as a man without spectacles can return the stare of one with — Jack spurred his horse up to his lordship, and, ri- sing in his stirrups, shot into his ear — " Why, here's the man on the cow ! " adding, " It isnH Washey." " Who the deuce is it, then ? " asked his lordship, looking over his left shoulder, as he kept galloping on in the wake of his hunts- man. " Don't know," replied Jack; " never saw him before." " Nor I," said his lordship, with an air, as much as to say, " It makes no matter." His lordship, though well mounted, was not exactly on the sort of horse for the country they were in ; while Mr. Sponge, in addition to being on the very animal for it, had the advantage of the horse hav- ing gone the first part of the run without a rider : soMultum in Par- vo, whether Mr. Sponge wished it or not, insisted on being as far for- ward as he could ge . The more Sponge pulled and hauled, the more determined the horse was; till, liaving thrown both Jack and his lordship in the rear, he made for old Frostyface, the huntsman, who was riding well up to the still-flying pack. 114 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Hold hard, sir ! For God's sake, hold hard ! " screamed Frosty, who knew by intuition there was a horse behind, as well as he knew there was a man shooting in front, who, in all probability, had headed the fox. " Hold hard, sir ! " roared he, as, yawning and boring and sha- king his head, Parvo dashed through the now yelping scattered pack, making straight for a stiff new gate, which he smashed through, just as a circus pony smashes through a paper hoop. '■'■ Hoo-ray I " shouted Jack Spraggon, on seeing the hounds were safe. " Hoo-ray for the tailor ! " " Billy Button himself! " exclaimed his lordship ; adding, " Never saw such a thing in my life ! " " Who the deuce is he ? " asked Blossomnose, in the full glow of pulling-five-year-old exertion, " Don't know," replied Jack : adding, " He's a shaver, whoever he is." Meanwhile the frightened hounds were scattered right and left. " I'll lay a guinea he's one of those confounded writing chaps," observed Fyle, who had been handled rather roughly by one of the tribe, who had dropped " quite promiscuously upon a field where he was, just as Sponge had done with Lord Scamperdale's, " Shouldn't wonder," replied his lordship, eyeing Sponge's vain endeavours to turn the chesnut, and thinking how he would " pitch into him " when he came up. " By Jove," added his lordship, " if the fellow had taken the whole country round, he couldn't have chosen a worse spot for such an exploit ; for there never is any scent over here. See ! not a hound can own it. Old Harmony herself throws up ! " The whips again are in their places, turning the astonished pack to Frostyface, who sets off on a casting expedition. The field, as usual, sit looking on ; some blessing Sponge ; some wondering who he was ; others looking what o'clock it is ; some dismounting and looking at their horse's feet. " Thank you, Mr. Brown Boots ! " exclaimed his lordship, as, by dint of bitting and spurring. Sponge at length worked the beast round, and came sneaking back in the face of the whole field. " Thank you. Mister Brown Boots," repeated he, taking off his hat and bowing very low. " Very much obliged to you, Mr. Brown Boots. Most partick- larly obleged to you, Mr. Brown Boots," with another low bow. "Hang'd obleged to you, Mr. Brown Boots! D n you^ Mr. Boots! " continued his lordship, looking at Sponge as if he would eat him. " Beg pardon, sir," blurted Sponge ; " my horse " "Hang your horse !" screamed his lordship; " it wasn't your horse that headed the fox, was it ? " " Beg pardon, couldn't help it ; I " MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 115 " Couldn't help it. Hang your helps — you're always doing it, sir. You could stay at home, sir — I s'pose, sir — couldn't you, sir ? eh, sir ? " Sponge was silent. " See, sir ! " continued his lordship, pointing to the mute pack now following the huntsman, " you've lost us our fox, sir — yes, sir — lost us our fox, sir. D'ye call that nothin', sir ? If you don't, / do, you perpendicular-looking Puseyite pig-jobber ! By Jove ! you think because I'm a lord, and can't swear, or use coarse language, that you may do what you like — but I'll take my hounds home, sir — yes, sir, 111 take my hounds home, sir." So saying, his lordship roared home to Frostyface ; adding, in an undertone to the first whip, " bid him go to Furzing-field gorse.'''' CHAPTER XXL A COUNTRY DINNER-PARTY. " Well, what sport ? " asked Jawleyford, as he encountered his exceedingly dirty friend crossing the entrance hall to his bed-room on his return from his day, or rather his non-day, with the " Flat Hat Hunt." " Why, not much — that's to say, nothing particular — I mean, I've not had any," blurted Sponge. " But you've had a run ? " observed Jawleyford, pointing to his boots and breeches, stained with the variation of each soil. " Ah, I got most of that going to cover," replied Sponge; " coun- try's awfully deep, roads abominably dirty;" adding, "I wish I'd taken your advice, and stayed at home." " I wish you had," replied Jawleyford, " you'd have had a most excellent rabbit-pie for luncheon. However, get changed, and we will hear all about it after." So saying, Jawleyford waved an adieu, and Sponge stamped away in his dirty water-logged boots. " I'm afraid you are very wet, Mr. Sponge," observed Amelia, in the sweetest tone, with the most loving smile possible, as our friend, with three steps at a time, bounded up-stairs, and nearly but- ted her on the landing, as she was on the point of coming down. "I am that," exclaimed Sponge, delighted at the greeting; "I am that," repeated he, slapping his much-stained cords ; " dirty, too," added he, looking down at his nether man. " Hadn't you better get changed as quick as possible ? " asked Amelia, still keeping her position before him. 116 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Oh! all in good time," replied Sponge, " all in good time. The sight of you warms me more than a fire would do ; " adding, " I declare you look quite bewitching, after all the roughings and tum- blings about out of doors." " Oh ! you've not had a fall, have you ? " exclaimed Amelia, look- ing the picture of despair ; " you've not had a fall, have you ? Do send for the doctor, and be bled." Just then a door along the passage to the left opened ; and Amelia knowing pretty well who it was, smiled and tripped away, leaving Sponge to be bled or not as he thought proper. Our hero then made for his bed-room, where, having sucked off his adhesive boots, and divested himself of the rest of his hunting attire, he wrapped himself up in his grey flannel dressing-gown, and prepared for parboiling his legs and feet, amid agreeable anticipations arising out of the recent interview, and occasional references to his old friend " Mogg," whenever he did not see his way on the matrimonial road as clearly as he could wish. " She'll have me, that's certain," observed he. " Curse the water ! how hot it is ! " exclaimed he, catching his foot up out of the bath, into which he had incautiously plunged it without ascertaining the temperature of the water. He then sluiced it with cold, and next had to add a little more hot ; at last he got it to his mind, and lighting a cigar, prepared for uninterrupted enjoy- ment. " Gad ! " said he, " she's by no means a bad looking girl " (whifi"). "Devilish good-loooking girl" (pufi"); "good head and neck, and carries it well too " (puft ) — " capital eye " (whiflF), " bright and clear " (pufi"); "no cataracts there. She's all good together " (whiiF, puff, whijff). " Nice size too," continued he, "and well setup" (whifi", pufi", whifi"); "straight as a dairy maid" (puff); "plenty of sub- stance — grand thing substance " (puff). " Hate a weedy woman — fif- teen two and a half — that's to say, five feet four's plenty of height for a woman" (puff). "Height of -a woman has nothing to do with her size " (whiff). " Wish she hadn't run off" (puff); " would like to have had a little more talk with her" (whiff, puff ). " Women never look so well as when one comes in wet and dirty from hunt- ing " (puff). He then sank silently back in the easy chair, and whiffed and puffed all sorts of fantastic clouds and columns and corkscrews at his leisure. The cigar being finished, and the water in the foot-bath beginning to get cool, he emptied the remainder of the hot into it, and lighting a fresh cigar, began speculating on how the match was to be accomplished. The lady was safe, that was clear ; he had nothing to do Init " pop." Tiiat he would do in the evening, or in the morning, or any time — a man living in the house with a girl need never be in want of an opportunity. That preliminary over, and the usual answer " Ask MB. sponge's "SPORTING TOUR. 117 papa " obtamed, then came the question, how was the old boy to be managed ? — for men with marriageable daughters are to all intents and purposes " old boys ;" be their ages what they may. He became lost in reflection. He sat with his eyes fixed on the Jawleyford portrait above the mantelpiece, wondering whether he was the amiable, liberal, hearty, disinterested sort of man he appeared to be, indifi"erent about money, and only wanting unexceptionable young men for his daughters ; or if he was a worldly-minded man, like some he had met, who, after giving him every possible encour- agement, sent him to the right about like a servant. So Sponge smoked and thought, and thought and smoked, till, the water in the foot-bath again getting cold, and the shades of night drawing on, he at last started up like a man determined to awake himself, and pok- ing a match into the fire, lighted the candles on the toilet-table, and proceeded to adorn himself. Having again got himself into the kill- ing tights and buckled pumps, with a fine flower-fronted shirt, ere he embarked on the delicacies and difiiculties of the starcher, he stirred the little pittance of a fire, and folding himself in his dress- ing-gown, endeavoured to prepare his mind for the calm consideration of all the minute bearings of the question by a little more Mogg. In idea he transferred himself to London, now fancying himself stand- ing at the end of Burlington Arcade, hailing a Fulham or Turnham Green 'bus ; now wrangling with a conductor for charging him six- pence when there was a pennant flapping at his nose with the words "All the way 3d." upon it; now folding the wooden doors of a Hansom cab in Oxford-street, calculating the extreme distance he could go for an eightpenny fare : until at last he fell into a downright vacant sort of reading, without rhyme or reason, just as one some- times takes a read of a directory or a dictionary — " Conduit-street, George-street, to or from the Adelphi terrace, Astley's Amphithea- tre, Baker-street, King-street, Bryanston-square any part, Covent Garden Theatre, Foundling Hospital, Hatton Garden," and so on, till the thunder of the gong aroused him to a recollection of his duties. He then up and at his neckcloth. " Ah, well," said he, reverting to his ladylove, as he eyed himself intently in the glass while performing the critical opei-ation, " I'll just sound the old gentleman after dinner — one can do that sort of thing better over one's wine, perhaps, than at any other time : looks less formal, too," added he, giving the cravat a knowing crease at the side ; " and if it doesn't seem to take, one can just pass it off as if it was done for somebody else — some young gentleman at Laverick Wells, for instance." So saying, he on with his white waistcoat, and crowned the con- quering suit with a blue coat and metal buttons. Returning his " Mogg" to his dressing-gown pocket, he blew out the candles, and groped his way down-stairs in the dark. 118 MR. sponge's sporting tour. In passing the dining-room he looked in (to see if there were any champagne-glasses set, we believe), when he saw that he should not have an opportunity of sounding his intended papa-in-law after din- ner, for he found the table laid for twelve, and a great display of plate, linen, and china. He then swaggered on to the drawing-room, which was in a blaze of light. The lively Emily had stolen a march on her sister, and had just entered, attired in a fine new pale yellow silk dress with a point-lace berthe and other adornments. High words had ensued between the sisters as to the meanness of Amelia in trying to take her beau from her, especially after the airs Amelia had given herself respecting Sponge ; and a minute observer . might have seen the slight tinge of red on Emily's eyelids, denoting the usual issue of such scenes. The result was, that each determined to do the best she could for herself; and free trade being proclaimed, Emily proceeded to dress with all expedition, calculating that, as Mr. Sponge had come in wet, he would very likely dress at once and appear in the drawing-room in good time. Nor was she out in her reckoning, for she had hardly enjoyed an approving glance in the mirror ere our hero came swaggering in, twitching his arms as if he hadn't got his wristbands adjusted, and working his legs as if they didn't belong to him. " Ah, my dear Miss Emley ! " exclaimed he, advancing gaily towards her with extended hand, which she took with all the pleasure in the world ; adding, " And how have you been ? " " Oh, pretty well, thank you," replied she, looking as though she would have said, " As well as I can be without you." Sponge, though a consummate judge of a horse, and all the minu- tiae connected with them, was still rather green in the matter of woman ; and having settled in his own mind that Amelia should be his choice, he concluded that Emily knew all about it, and was working on her sister's account, instead of doing the agreeable for herself. And there it is where elder sisters have such an advantage over younger ones. They are always shown, or contrive to show themselves, first ; and if a man once makes up his mind that the elder one will do, there is an end of the matter ; and it is neither a deeper shade or two of blue, nor a brighter tinge of brown, nor a little smaller foot, nor a more elegant waist, that will make him change for a younger sister. The younger ones immediately become sisters in the men's minds, and retire, or are retired, from the field — " scratched," as Sponge would say. Amelia, however, was not going to give Emily a chance; for, having dressed with all the expedition compatible with an attractive toilet — a lavender-coloured satin with broad black lace flounces, and some heavy jewellery on her well-turned arms, she came sidling in so gently as almost to catch Emily in the act of playing the agreeable. MR. sponge's SPORTTNO TOUR. 119 Turning the sidle into a stately sail, with a haughty sort of sneer and toss of the head to her sister, as much as to say, " What are you doing with my man ? " — a sneer that suddenly changed into a sweet smile as her eye encountered Sponge's — she just motioned him off to a sofa, where she commenced a sotto voce conversation in the engaged- couple style. The plot then began to thicken. First came Jawleyford, in a terrible stew. " Well, this is too bad ! " exclaimed he, stamping and flourishing a scented note, with a crest and initials at the top. " This is too bad,'^ repeated he ; " people accepting invitations, and then crying off at the last moment." " Who is it can't come, papa — the Foozles ? " asked Emily. " No — Foozles be hanged," sneered Jawleyford ; " they always come — the Blossomnoses ! " replied he, with an emphasis. " The Blossomnoses ! " exclaimed both girls, clasping their hands and looking up at the ceiling. " What, all of them ? " asked Emily. " All of them,'''' rejoined Jawleyford. "Why, that's four," observed Emily. " To be sure it is," replied Jawleyford; "five, if you count them by appetites ; for old Blossom always eats and drinks as much as two people." " What excuse do they give ? " asked Amelia. " Carriage-horse taken suddenly ill," replied Jawleyford ; " as if that's any excuse when there are post-horses within a half-a-dozen miles." " He wouldn't have been stopped hunting for want of a horse, I dare say," observed Amelia. " I dare say it's all a lie," observed Jawleyford ; adding, " how- ever, the invitation shall go for a dinner, all the same." The denunciation was interrupted by the appearance of Spigot, who came looming up the spacious drawing-room in the full magnifi- cence of black shorts, silk stockings, and buckled pumps, followed by a sheepish-looking, straight-haired, red apple-faced young gentleman, whom he announced as Mr. Robert Foozle. Robert was the hope of the house of Foozle ; and it was fortunate his parents were satis- fied with him, for few other people were. He was a young gentleman who shook hands with everybody, assented to anything that anybody said, and in answering a question, wherein indeed his convei'sation chiefly consisted, he always followed the words of the interrogation as much as he could. For instance : " Well, Robert, have you been at Dulverton to-day ? " Answer, " No, I've not been at Dulverton to-day." Question, "Are you going to Dulverton to-morrow?" Answer," No, I'm not going to Dulverton to-morrow." Having shaken hands with the party all round, and turned to the fire to warm 120 MR. sponge's sporting tour. his red fists, Jawleyford having stood at " attention " for such time as he thought Mrs. Foozle would be occupied before the glass in his study arranging her head-gear, and seeing no symptoms of any further announcement, at last asked Foozle if his papa and mamma were not coming. " No, my papa and mamma are not coming," replied he. " Are you sure ? " asked Jawleyford, in a tone of excitement. " Quite sure," replied Foozle, in the most matter-of-course voice. " The deuce !" exclaimed Jawleyford, stamping his foot upon the soft rug ; adding, " It never rains but it pours ! " " Have you any note, or anything?" asked Mrs. Jawleyford, who had followed Robert Foozle into the room. " Yes, I have a note," replied he, diving into the inner pocket of his coat, and producing one. The note was a letter — a letter from Mrs. Foozle to Mrs. Jaw- leyford, three sides and crossed ; and seeing the magnitude thereof, Mrs. Jawleyford quietly put it into her reticule, observing " that she hoped Mr. and Mrs. Foozle were well ? " " Yes, they are well," replied Robert, notwithstanding he had express orders to say that his papa had the tooth-ache, and his mamma the ear-ache. Jawleyford then gave a furious ring at the bell for dinner, and in due course of time the party of six proceeded to a table for twelve. Sponge pawned Mrs. Jawleyford off upon Robert Foozle, which gave Sponge the right to the fair Amelia, who walked off on his arm with a toss of her head at Emily, as though she thought him the finest, sprightliest man under the sun. Emily followed, and Jawleyford came sulking in alone, sore put out at the failure of what he meant for the grand entertainment. Lights blazed in profusion ; lamps more accustomed had now become better behaved ; and the whole strength of the plate was called in requisition, sadly puzzling the unfortunate cook to find something to put upon the dishes. She, however, was a real magnan- imous-minded woman, who would undertake to cook a lord mayor's feast — soups, sweets, joints, entrees, and all. Jawleyford was nearly silent during the dinner ; indeed, he was too far off for conversation, had there been any for him to join in ; which was not the case, for Amelia and Sponge kept up a hum of words, while Emily worked Robert Foozle with question and answer, such as " Were your sisters out to-day ? " " Yes, my sisters were out to-day." " Are your sisters going to the Christmas ball ? " " Yes, my sisters are going to the Christmas ball," &c. &c. Still nearly daft as Robert was, he was generally asked where there was anything going on ; and more than one young la — but wo will not tell about that, as he has nothing to do with our stor}'. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 121 By the time the ladies took their departure, Mr. Jawleyford had somewhat recovered from the annoyance of his disapjioiutment ; and as they retired he rang the bell, and desired Spigot to set in the horse-shoe table, and bring a bottle of the "green seal," being the colour affixed on the bottles of a four-dozen hamper of port ('• curi- ous old port at 485.") that had arrived from " Wintle and Co." by rail (goods-train of course) that morning. " There ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, as Spigot placed the richly-cut decanter on the horse-shoe table. " There ! " repeated he, drawing the green curtain as if to shade it from the fire, but in reality to hide the dulness the recent shaking had given it; "that wine" said he, " is a quarter of century in bottle, at the very least." " Indeed," observed Sponge ; " time it was drunk." " A quarter of a century ! " gaped Robert Foozle. " Quarter of a century if it's a day," replied Jawleyford, smack- ing his lips as he set down his glass after imbibing the precious bev- erage. " Very fine," observed Sponge ; adding, as he sipped ofi" his glass, " it's odd to find such old wine so full-bodied." " Well, now tell us all about your day's proceedings," said Jaw- leyford, thinking it advisable to change the conversation at once. " What sport had you with my lord ? " " Oh, why, I really can't tell you much," drawled Sponge, with an air of bewilderment. " Strange country — strange faces — nobody I knew, and " " Ah, true," replied Jawleyford, " true. It occurred to me after you were gone, that perhaps you might not know any one. Ours, you see, is rather an out-of-the-way country ; few of our people go to town, or indeed anywhere else ; they are all tarry-at-home birds. But they'd receive you with great politeness, I'm sure — if they knew you came from here, at least," added he. Sponge was silent, and took a great gulp of the dull " Wintle," to save himself from answering. " Was my Lord Scamperdale out ? " asked Jawleyford, seeing he was not going to get a reply. " Why, I can really hardly tell you that," replied Sponge. "There were two men out, either of whom might be him; at least, they both seemed to take the lead, and — and — " he was going to say " blow up the people," but he thought he might as well keep that to himself. " Stout, hale-looking men, dressed much alike, with great broad tortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles on?" asked Jawleyford. " Just so," replied Sponge. " Ah, you are right, then," rejoined Jawleyford ; " it would be my lord." " And who was the other ?" inquired our friend. 6 122 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Oh, that Jack Spraggon," replied Jawleyford, curling up his nose, as if he was going to be sick; " one of the most odious wretches under the sun. I really don't know any man that I have so great a dislike to, so utter a contempt for, as that Jack, as they call him." " What is he ? " asked Sponge. " Oh, just a hanger-on of his lordship's : the creature has noth- ing — ^nothing whatever ; he lives on my lord — eats his venison, drinks his claret, rides his horses, bullies those his lordship doesn't like to tackle with, and .makes himself generally useful." " He seems a man of that sort," observed Sponge, as he thought over the compliments he had received. " Well, who else had you out, then ? " asked Jawleyford. " Was Tom Washball there ? " " No," replied Sponge ; " he wasn't out, I know." " Ah, that's unfortunate," observed Jawleyford, helping himself and passing the bottle. " Tom's a capital fellow — a perfect gentle- man — great friend of mine. If he'd been out you'd have had noth- ing to do but mention my name, and he'd have put you all right in a minute. Who else was there, then ? " continued he. " There was a tall man in black, on a good-looking young brown horse, rather rash at his fences, but a fine style of goer." " What ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, " a man in drab cords and jack- boots, with the brim of his hat rather turning upwards ? " " Just so," replied Sponge ; " and a double ribbon for a hat- string." " That's Master Blossomnose," observed Jawleyford, scarcely able to contain his indignation. " That's Master Blossomnose," repeated he, taking a back hand at the port in the excitement of the moment. " More to his credit if he were to stay at home and attend to his parish," added Jawleyford; meaning, it would have been more to his credit if he had fulfilled his engagement to him that evening, in- stead of going out hunting in the morning. The two then sat silent for a time. Sponge seeing where the sore place was, and Robert Foozle, as usual, seeing nothing. " Ah, well," observed Jawleyford, at length breaking silence, " it was unfortunate you went this morning. I did my best to pre- vent you — told you what a long way it was, and so on. However, never mind, we will put all right to-morrow. His lordship, I'm sure, will be most happy to see you. So help yourself," continued he, passing the " Wintle," "and we will drink his health, and success to fox-hunting." Sponge filled a bumper and drank his lordship's health, with the accompaniment as desired ; and turning to Kobert Foozle, who was doing likewise, said, " Are you fond of hunting ? " " Yes, I'm fond of hunting," replied Foozle. " But you donH hunt, you know, Robert," observed Jawleyford. AiK. sponge's spouting TOt r. 123 " Xo, I don't hunt," replied Robert. The " green seal " being demolished, Jawleyford ordered a bottle of the " other," attributing the slight discoloration (which he did not discover until they had nearly finished the bottle) to change of at- mosphere in the outer cellar. Sponge tackled vigorously with the new-comer, which was better than the first ; and Robert FoozlCj drinking as he spoke, by pattern, kept filling away, much to Jawley- ford's dissatisfaction, who was compelled to order a third. During the progress of its demolition, the host's tongue became considerably loosened. He talked of hunting and the charms of the chase — of the good fellowship it produced ; and expatiated on the advantages it was of to the country in a national point of view, promoting as it did a spirit of manly enterprise, and encouraging our unrivalled breed of horses ; both of which he looked upon as national objects, well worthy the attention of enlightened men like himself. Jawleyford was a gi-eat patron of the chase ; and his keeper, Watson, always had a bag-fox ready to turn down when my lord's hounds met there. Jawleyford's covers were never known to be drawn blank. Though they had been shot in the day before, they always held a fox the next— -if a fox was wanted. Sponge being quite at home on the subject of horses and hunting, lauded all his papa-in-law's observations up to the skies ; occasionally considering whether it would be advisable to sell him a horse, and thinking, if he did, whether he should let him have one of the three he had down, or should get old Buckram to buy some quiet screw that would stand a little work and yield him (Sponge) a little profit, and yet not demolish the great patron of Englis'n sports. The more Jawleyford drank, the more energetic he became, and the gi-eater pleasure he anticipated from the meet of the morrow. He docked the lord, and spoke of " Scamperdale " as an excellent fellow — a real, good, hearty, honest Englishman — a man that " the more you knew the more you liked ; " all of which was very encouraging to Sponge. Spigot at length appeared to read the tea and cofi'ee riot-act, when Jawleyford, determined not to be done out of another bottle, pointing to the nearly-emptied decanter, said to Robert Foozle, " I suppose you'll not take any more wine ? " To which Robert replied, " No, I'll not take any more wine." "Whereupon, pushing out his chair, and throwing away his napkin, Jawleyford arose and led the way to the drawing-room, followed by Sponge and this entertaining young gen- tleman. A round game followed tea ; which, in its turn, was succeeded by a massive silver traj*, chiefly decorated with cold water and tumblers; and as the various independent clocks in the drawing-room began chiming and striking eleven, Mr. Jawleyford thought he would try to get rid of Foozle by asking him if he hadn't better stay all night, " Yes, I think I'd better stay all night," replied Foozle. 124 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " But won't they be expecting you at home, Robert ? " asked Jawleyford, not feeling disposed to be caught in his own trap. " Yes, they'll be expecting me at home," replied Foozle. " Then, perhaps, you had better not alarm them by staying," sug- gested Jawleyford. " No, perhaps I'd better not alarm them by staying," repeated Foozle. Whereupon they all rose, and wishing him a very good night, Jawleyford handed him over to Spigot, who transferred him to one footman, who passed him to another, to button into his leather- Leaded shandridan. After talking Robert over, and expatiating on the misfortune it would be to have such a boy, Jawleyford rang the bell for the ban- quet of water to be taken away ; and ordering breakfast half-an-hour earlier than usual, our friends went to bed. CHAPTER XXII. THE F. ir. H. AGAIN. Gentlemen unaccustomed to public hunting often make queer figures of themselves when they go out. We have seen them in all sorts of odd dresses, half fox-hunters half fishermen, half fox-hunters half sailors, with now and then a good sturdy cross of the farmer. Mr. Jawleyford was a cross between a military dandy and a squire. The green-and-gold Bumperkin foraging-cap, with the letters " B. Y. C," in front, was cocked jauntily on one side of his badger- pyed head, while he played sportively with the patent leather strap — now toying with it on his lip, now dropping it below his chin, now hitching it up to the peak. He had a tremendously stift' stock on — so hard that no pressure made it wrinkle, and so high that his pointed gills could hardly peer above it. His coat was a bright green cut- away — made when collars were worn very high and very hollow, and when waists were supposed to be about the middle of a man's back, Jawleyford's back-buttons occupying that remarkable position. These, which were of dead gold with a bright rim, represented a hare full stretch for her life, and were the buttons of the old Muggeridge hunt — a hunt that had died many years ago from want of the necessary funds (80Z.) to carry it on. Tlie coat, which was single-breasted and velvet-collared, was extremely swallow-tailed, presenting a remark- able contrast to the barge-built, roomy roundabouts of the members of the Flat Hat Hunt ; the collar rising behind, in the shape of a MK. sponge's sporting TOUR. 125 gothic areb, exhibited all tbe sticbings and tbrcadings incident to that department of tbe garment. But if Mr. Jawleytbrd's coat went to " bare," bis waistcoat was fox and all '' fox." On a brigbt blue ground be sported such an in- finity of '■ beads," tbat tbere is no saying tbat be would bave been safe in a kennel of unsteady hounds. One thing, to be sure, was in his favour — namely, that they were just as much like cats' heads as foxes. The coat and waistcoat were old stagers, but bis nether man was encased in rhubarb-coloured tweed pantaloons of the newest make — a species of material extremely soft and comfortable to wear, but not so well adapted for roughing it across country. These bad a broad brown stripe down tbe sides, and were shaped out over the foot of his fine French-polished paper boots, the heels of which were decorated with long-necked, ringing spurs. Thus attired, with a little silver-mounted whip which be kept flourishing about, he en- countered Mr. Sponge in tbe entrance-hall, after breakfast. Mr. Sponge, like all men who are " extremely natty " themselves, men who wouldn't have a button out of place if it was ever so, hardly knew what to think of Jawleyford's costume. It was clear be was no sportsman ; and then came the question, whether be was of tbe privileged few who may do what they like, and who can carry off any absurdity. Whatever uneasiness Sponge felt on that score, Jawleyford, however, was quite at his ease, and swaggered about like an aide-de-camp at a review. " Well, we should be going, I suppose," said be, drawing on a pair of balf-dirty, lemon-coloured kid gloves, and sabreing tbe air with bis whip. " Is Lord Scamperdale punctual ? " asked Sponge. " Tol-lol," replied Jawleyford, "tol-lol." " He'll wait for you^ I suppose ? " observed Sponge, thinking to try Jawle}"ford on that infallible criterion of favoui-. '• ^V^hy, if he knew I was coming, I dare say he would," replied Jawle)-ford slowly and deliberately, feeling it was now no time for flashing. '' If be knew I was coining, I dare say be would," repeated be ; " indeed, I make no doubt he would : but one dosen't like put- ting great men out of their way ; besides which, it's just as easy to be punctual as otherwise. When I was in the Buuiperkin — " " But your horse is on, isn't it ? " interrupted Sponge ; " he'll see your horse there, you know. " Horse on, my dear fellow ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, " horse on ? No, certainly not. How should I get there myself, if my horse was on?" " Hack, to be sure," replied Sponge, striking a light for his cigar. " Ah, but then I should have no groom to go with me," observed Jawleyford ; adding, " one must make a certain appearance, you know. But come, my dear Mr. Sponge," continued he, laying hold 126 MR. SPONGERS SPORTING TOUR. of our hero's arm, " let us go to the door, for that cigar of yours will fumigate the whole house ; and Mrs. Jawleyford hates the smell of tobacco." Spigot, with his attendants in livery, here put a stop to the confab by hurrying past, drawing the bolts, and throwing back the spacious folding doors, as if royalty or Daniel Lambert himself were " coming out." The noise they made was heard outside ; and on reaching the top of the spacious flight of steps, Sponge's piebald in charge of a dirty village lad, and Jawleyford's steeds with a sky-blue groom, were seen scuttling under the portico, for the owners to mount. The Jawleyford cavalry was none of the best ; but Jawleyford was pleased with it, and that is a great thing. Indeed, a thing had only to be Jawleyford's to make Jawleyford excessively fond of it. " There ! " exclaimed he, as they reached the third step from the bottom. "There ! " repeated he, seizing Sponge by the arm, that's what I call shape. You don't see such an animal as that every day," pointing to a not badly-formed, but evidently worn-out, over-knee'd bay, that stood knuckling and trembling for Jawleyford to mount. " One of the ' has beens,' I should say," replied Sponge, pufnng a cloud of smoke right past Jawleyford's nose ; adding, " It's a pity but you could get him four new legs." " Faith, I don't see that he wants anything of the sort," retorted Jawleyford, nettled as well at the smoke as the observation. "Well, where ' ignorance is bliss,' &c.," replied Sponge, with another great puff, which nearly blinded Jawleyford. " Get on, and let's see how he goes," added he, passing on to the piebald as he spoke. Mr. Jawleyford then mounted ; and having settled himself in a military seat, touched the old screw with the spur, and set off at a canter. The piebald, perhaps mistaking the portico for a booth, and thinking it was a good place to exhibit in, proceeded to die in the most approved form ; and not all Sponge's " Come-ups " or kicks could induce him to rise before he had gone through the whole cere- mony. At length, with a mane full of gravel, a side well smeared, and a " Wilkinson & Kid " sadly scratched, the ci-devant actor arose, much no the relief of the village lad, who, having indulged in a gallop as he brought him from Lucksford, expected his death would be laid to his door. No sooner was he up, than, without waiting for him to shake himself, Mr. Soapey vaulted into the saddle, and seizing him by the head, let in the Latchfords in a style that satis- fied the hack he was not going to canter in a circle. Away he went, best pace ; for like all Mr. Sponge's horses, he had the knack of going, the general difficulty being to get them to go the way the)' were wanted. Sponge presently overtook Mr. Jawleyford, who had been brought MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 127 up by a gate, whicli he was making sundry ineffectual Briggs-lik& passes and efforts to open; the gate and his horse seeming to have combined to prevent his getting through. Though an expert swords- man, he had never been able to accomplish the art of opening a gate, especially one of those gingerly-balanced, spring-necked things that require to be taken at the nick of time, or else they drop just as the horse gets his nose to them. " Why arn't you here to open the gate ? " asked Jawleyford snappishly, as the blue boy bustled up as his master's efforts became more hopeless at each attempt. The lad, like a wise fellow, dropped from his horse, and opening it with his hands, ran it back on foot. Jawleyford and Sponge then rode through. Canter, canter, canter, went Jawleyford, with an arm a-kimbo, head well up, legs well down, toes well pointed, as if he were going to a race, where his work would end on arriving, instead of to a fox- hunt, where it would only begin. " You are rather hard on the old nag, arn't you ? " at length asked Sponge, as, having cleared the rushy, swampy park, they came upon the macadamised turnpike, and Jawleyford selected the middle of it as the scene of his further progression. " Oh no ! " replied Jawleyford, tit-tup-ing along with a loose rein, as if he was on the soundest, freshest-legged horse in the world ; " oh no ! my horses are used to it„" " Well, but if you mean to hunt him," observed Sponge, " he'll be blown before he gets to cover." " Get him in wind, my dear fellow," replied Jawleyford, " get him in wind," touching the horse with the spur as he spoke. " Faith, but if he was as well on his legs as he is in his wind, he'd not be amiss," rejoined Sponge. So they cantered and trotted, and trotted and cantered away, Sponge thinking he could afford pace as well as Jawleyford. Indeed a horse has only to become a hack, to be able to do double the work he was ever supposed to be capable of. But to the meet. Scrambleford Green was a small straggling village on the top of a somewhat high hill, that divided the vale in which Jawleyford Court was situated, from the more fertile one of Farthinghoe, in which Lord Scamperdale lived. It was one of those out-of-the-way places at which the meet of the hounds, and a love feast or fair, consisting of two fiddlers (one for each public-house), a few unlicensed packmen, three or for ginger- bread stalls, a drove of cows and some sheep, formed the great events of the year, among a people who are thoroughly happy and contented with that amount of gaiety. Think of that, you " used up " young gentlemen of twenty, who have exhausted the pleasures of this world ! 128 MR. sponge's sporting tour. The houuds did not come to Serambleford Green often, for it was not a favourite meet ; and when they did come, Frosty and the men generally had them pretty much to themselves. This day. however, was the exception ; and Old Tom Yarnley, whom age had bent nearly double, and who hobbled along on two sticks, declared that never in the course of his recollection, a period extending over the best part of a century, had he seen such a " sight of red coats" as mustered that morning at Serambleford Green. It seemed as if there had been a sudden rising of sportsmen. What brought them all out ? What brought Mr. Puihngton, the master of the Hanby hounds, out ? What brought Blossomnose again ? What Mr. Wake, Mr. Fosiick, Mr. Fyle, who had all been out the day before ? Reader, the news had spread throughout the country that there was a great writer down ; aud they wanted to see what he would say of them— they had come to sit for their portraits, in fact. There was a great gathering, at least for the Flat Hat Hunt, who seldom mustered above a dozen. Tom Washball came, in a fine new coat and new flat-flipped hat with a broad binding ; also Mr. Sparks, of Spark Hall; Major Mark; Mr. Archer, of Cheam Lodge; Mr. Reeves, of Coxwell Green ; Mr. Bliss, of Boltonshaw ; Mr. Joyce, of Ebstone; Dr. Capon, of Calcot ; Mr. Dribble, of Hook; Mr. Slade, of Three-Burrow Hill; aud several others. Gi'eat was the astonishment of each as the other cast up. " Why, here's Joe Reeves ! " exclaimed Blossomnose. " Who'd have thought of seeing you ? " " And who'd have thought of seeing you ? " rejoined Reeves, shaking hands with the jolly old nose. " Here's Tom Washball in time, for once, I declare ! " exclaimed Mr. Fyle, as Mr. AVashball cantered up in apple-pie order. " Wonders will never cease ! " observed Fossick, looking Washy over. So the field sat in a ring about the hounds, in the centre of which, as usual, were Jack and Lord Scamperdale, looking, with their great tortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles, and short grey whiskers trimmed in a eurve up to their noses, like a couple of horned owls in hats. " Here's the. man on the cow ! " exclaimed Jack, as he espied Sponge and Jawleyford rising the hill together, easing their horses by standing in their stirrups and holding on by their manes. " You don't say so ! " exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, turning his horse in the direction Jack was lookino;, and starinoj for hard life too. " So there is, I declare ! " observed he. " And who the deuce is this with him ? " " That ass Jawleyford, as I live ! " exclaimed Jack, as the blue- coated servant now hove in sight. "So it is!" said Lord Scamperdale; "the confounded humhugP^ 6* MR. sponge's SrORTlNG TOUR. 129 " This boy'U be after one of the young ladies," observed Jack; " not one of the writing chaps we thought he was." " Shouldn't wonder," replied Lord Scampcrdale ; adding, in an under tone, '' I vote we have a rise out of old Jaw. I'll let you in for a good thing — you shall dine with him." *' Not I," replied Jack. " You shall, though," replied his lordship, firmly. " Prai/ don't ! " entreated Jack. "By the powers, if you don't," rejoined his lordship, "you shall not have a mount out of me for a month." While this conversation was going on, Jawleyford and Sponge having risen the hill, had resumed their seats in the saddle, and Jaw- leyford, setting himself in attitude, tickled his horse with his spur, and proceeded to canter becomingly up to the pack ; Sponge and the groom following a little behind. " Ah, Jawleyford, my dear fellow ! " exclaimed Lord Scamper- dale, putting his horse on a few steps to meet him, as he came flour- ishing up ; " Ah, Jawleyford, my dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you," extending a hand as he spoke. " Jack, here, told me that he saw your flag flying as he passed, and I said what a pity it was but I'd known before ; for Jawleyford, said I, is a real good fellow, one of the best fellows I know, and has asked me to dine so often that I'm almost ashamed to meet him ; and it would have been such a nice opportunity to have volunteered a visit, the hounds being here, you see." " Oh, that's so kind of your lordship ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, quite delighted — " that's so kind of your lordship — that's just what I like ! — that's just what Mrs. Jawleyford likes ! — that's just what we all like ! — coming without fuss or ceremony, just as my friend Mr. Sponge, here, does. By the way, will your lordship give me leave to introduce my friend Mr. Sponge — my Lord Scamperdale." Jawleyford suiting the action to the word, and manceuvring the cere- mony. " Ah ! I made Mr. Sponge's acquaintance yesterday," observed his lordship drily, giving a sort of servants' touch of his hat as he scrutinised our friend through his formidable glasses ; adding — " To tell you the truth," addressing himself in an under tone to Sponge, " I took you for one of those nasty writing chaps, who I 'bominate. But," continued his lordship, returning to Jawleyford, " I'll tell you what I said about the dinner. Jack, here, told me the flag was fly- ing ; and I said I only wished I'd known before, and I would cer- tainly have proposed that Jack and I should dine with you, either to-day or to-morrow ; but unfortunately I'd engaged myself to my Lord Barker's not five minutes before." " Ah, my lord ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, throwing out his hand and shrugging his shoulders as if in despair, " you tantalise me — you 6* 130 MR. sponge's spouting tour. do indeed. You should have come, or said nothing about it. You distress me — you do indeed." "Well, I'm wrong, perhaps," replied his lordship, patting Jaw- leyford encouragingly on the shoulder ; " but however, I'll tell you what," said he, " Jack here's not engaged, and he shall come to you." •' Most happy to see Mr. — ha — hum — haio — Jack — that's to say Mr. Spraggon," repled Jawleyford, bowing very low, and laying his hand on his heart, as if quite overpowered at the idea of the honour. " Then that's a bargain, Jack," said his lordship, looking know- ingly round at his much disconcerted friend ; " you dine and stay all night at Jawleyford Court to-morrow ! and mind,^'' added he, " make yourself 'greeable to the girls, — ladies that's to say." " Couldn't your lordship arrange it so that we might have the pleasure of seeing you both on some future day?" asked Jawleyford, anxious to avert the Jack calamity. " Say next week," continued he ; " or suppose you meet at the Court ? " " Ha — he — hum. Meet at the Court," mumbled his lordship — " meet at the Court — ha — he — ha — hxim — no ; got no foxes." ^^ Plenty of foxes, I assure you, my lord ! " exclaimed Jawleyford. " Plenty of foxes ! " repeated he. " We never find them, then, somehow," observed his lordship, drily ; " at least none but those three-legged beggars in the laurels at the back of the stables." " Ah ! that will be the fault of the hounds," replied Jawleyford ; " they don't take sufficient time to draw — run through the covers too quickly." " Fault of the hounds be hanged ! " exclaimed Jack, who was the champion of the pack generally. " There's not a more patient, pains- taking pack in the world than his lordship's." " Ah — well — ah — never mind that," replied his lordship, " Jaw and you can settle that point over your wine to-morrow ; meanwhile, if your friend Mr. What's-his-name here, '11 get his horse," continued his lordship, addressing himself to Jawleyford, but looking at Sponge, who was still on the piebald, " we'll throw off." " Thank you, my lord," replied Sponge; " but I'll mount at the cover side." Sponge not being inclined to let the Flat Hat Hunt field see the difference of opinion that occasionally existed between the gallant brown and himself " As you please," rejoined his lordship, " as you please," jerking his head at Frostyface, who forthwith gave the office to the hounds ; whereupon all was commotion. Away the cavalcade went, and in less than five minutes the late bustling village resumed its wonted quiet ; the old man on sticks, two crones gossiping at a door, a rag- or-anything-else gatherer going about with a donkey, and a parcel of dirty children tumbling about on the green, being all that remained MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 131 on the scene. All the able-bocUed men had followed the hounds. Why the hounds had ever climbed the long hill seemed a mystery, seeing that they returned the way they came. Jawleylbrd, though sore disconcerted at having " Jack " pawned upon him, stuck to my lord, and rode on his right with the air of a general. He felt he was doing his duty as an Englishman in thus patronising the hounds — encouraging a manly spirit of independence, and promoting our unrivalled breed of horses. The post-boy trot at which hounds travel, to be sure, is not well adapted for dignity ; but Jawleyford flourished and vapoured as well as he could under the circumstances, and considering they were going down hill. Lord Scamperdale rode along, laughing in his sleeve at the idea of the pleasant evening Jack and Jawleyford would have together, occa- sionally complimenting Jawleyford on the cut and condition of his horse, and advising him to be careful of the switching raspers with which the country abounded, and which might be fatal to his nice nutmeg-coloured trousers. The rest of the " field " followed, the fall of the ground enabling them to see " how thick Jawleyford was with my lord." Old Blossomnose, who, we should observe, had slipped away unpercoived on Jawieyford's arrival, took a bird's-eye view from the rear. Naughty Blossom was riding the horse that ought to have gone in the " chay " to Jawleyford Court. CHAPTER XXIII. THK GREAT RUN. Our hero having inveigled the brown under lee of an outhouse as the field moved along, was fortunate enough to achieve the saddle without disclosing the secrets of the stable ; and as he rejoined the throng in all the pride of shape, action, and condition, even the top-sawyers, Fossick, Fyle, Bliss, and others, admitted that Hercules was not a bad-like horse ; while the humbler-minded ones eyed Sponge with a mixture of awe and envy, thinking what a fine trade literature must be to stand such a horse. " Is your friend, What's-his-name, a workman ? " asked Lord Scamperdale, nodding towards Sponge as he trotted Hercules gently past on the turf by the side of the road along which they were riding. "Oh, no," replied Jawleyford tartly. "Oh, no — ^gentleman; man of property — " I did not mean was he a mechanic," explained his lordship drily, 132 MR. sponge's sporting touk. " but a workman ; a good 'un across country, in fact." His lordship working his arms as if he was going to set-to himself. " Oh, a first-rate man ! — -first-i'ate man I " replied Jawleyford ; " beat them all at Laverick Wells." " I thought so," observed his lordship ; adding to himself, " then Jack shall take the conceit ovit of him." " Jack ! " holloaed he over his shoulder to his friend, who was jogging a little behind; '■'■Jack!'''' repeated he, "that Mr. Some- thing—" '■'■ Sponge ! '''' observed Jawleyford, with an emphasis. " That Mr. Sponge," continued his lordship, " is a stranger in the country : have the kindness to take care of him. You know what I mean ? " " Just so," replied Jack; "I'll take care of him." " Most polite of your lordship, I'm sure," said Jawleyford, with a low bow, and laying his hand on his breast. " I can assure you I shall never forget the marked attention I have received from your lordship this day." " Thank you for nothing," grunted his lordship to himself. Bump, bump ; trot, trot ; jabber, jabber, on they went as before. They had now got to the cover. Tickler Gorse, and ere the last horseman had reached the last angle of the long hill, Frostyface was rolling about on foot in the luxuriant evergreen; now wholly visible, now all but overhead, like a man buffeting among the waves of the sea. Save Frosty's cheery voice encouraging the invisible pack to " wind him ! " and " rout him out ! " an injunction that the shaking of the gorse showed they willingly obeyed, and an occasional excla- mation from Jawleyford, of " Beautiful ! beautiful ! — never saw better hounds ! — can't he a finer pack! " not a sound disturbed the stillness of the scene. The waggoners on the road stopped their wains, the late noisy ploughmen leaned vacantly on their stilts, the turnip-pullers stood erect in air, and the shepherds' boys deserted the bleating flocks ; — all was life and joy and liberty — " Liberty, equality, and foxhunt-ity ! " " Yo — i — cks^ wind him ! Y — o — o — icks ! rout him out ! " went Frosty ; occasionally varying the entertainment with a loud crack of his heavy whip, when he could get upon a piece of rising ground to clear the thong. " Tally-lio ! " screamed Jawleyford, hoisting the Bumperkia Yeomanry cap in the air. " Tally-ho ! " repeated he, looking trium- phantly round, as much as to say, " What a clever boy am I ! " " Hold your noise ! " roared Jack, who was j^osted a little below. " Don't you see it's a hare ? " added he, amidst the uproarious mirth of the company. " I haven't your great staring specs on, or I should have seen he MB. sponge's sporting TOUR. 133 hadn't a tail," retorted Jawlejford, nettled at the tone in which Jack had addressed him. " Tail be ! " replied Jack, with a sneer ; " who but a tailor would call it a tail ? " Just then a light low squeak of a whimper was heard in the thickest part of the gorse, and Frostyface cheered the hound to the echo. " Hoick to Pillager ! H — o — o — ick I " screamed he, in a long-drawn note, that thrilled through every frame, and set the horses a-capering. Ere Frosty's prolonged screech was fairly finished, there was such an outburst of melody, and such a shaking of the gorse-bushes, as plainly showed there was no safety for Reynard in cover ; and great was the bustle and commotion among the horsemen. Mr. Fossick lowered his hat-string and ran the fox's tooth through the button- hole ; Fyle drew his girths ; Washball took a long swig at his hunt- ing-horn-shaped monkey ; Major Mark and Mr. Archer threw away their cigar ends; Mr. Bliss drew on his dogskin gloves; Mr. Wake rolled the thong of his whip round the stick, to be better able to en- counter his puller; Mr. Sparks got a yokel to take up a link of his curb ; George Smith and Joe Smith looked at their watches ; Sandy McGregor, the factor, filled his great Scotch nose with Irish snuff, exclaiming, as he dismissed the balance from his fingers by a knock against his thigh, " Oh, my mon, aw think this tod will gie us a ran ! " while Blossomnose might be seen stealing gently forward, on the far side of a thick fence, for the double purpose of shirking Jaw- leyford, and getting a good start. In the midst of these and similar preparations for the fray, up went a whip's cap at the low end of the cover; and a volley of " Tallyhos " burst from our friends, as the fox, whisking his white tipped brush in the air, was seen stealing away over the grassy hill beyond. What a commotion was there ! How pale some looked ! How happy others ! " Sing out, Jack ! for heaven's sake, sing out / " exclaimed Lord Scamperdale ; an enthusiastic sportsman, always as eager for a run as if he had never seen one. " Sing out. Jack ; or, by Jove, they'll over-ride 'em at starting ! " " Hold hard, gentlemen," roared Jack, clapping spurs into his grey, or rather into his lordship's grey, dashing in front, and drawing the horse across the road to stop the progression of the field. " Hold HARD, one minute ! " repeated Jack, standing erect in his stirrups, and menacing them with his whip (a most formidable one). " What- ever you do, pray let them get away ! Pray don't spoil your own sport ! Pray remember they're his lordship's hounds ! — that they cost him five-and-twcnty underd — two thousand five underd a year ! And where, let me ax, with wheat dowTi to nothing, would you get another, if he was to throw up ? " 134 MR. sponge's SPORXns'G TOUR. As Jack made this inquiry, he took a hurried glance at the now pouring out pack ; and seeing they were safe away, he wiped the foam from his mouth on his sleeve, dropped into his saddle, and catching his horse short round by the head, clapped spurs into his sides, and galloped away, exclaiming, "iVozo, ye tinkers, zveUl all start fair / " Then there was such a scrimmage ! such jostling and elbowing among the jealous ones; such ramming and cramming among the eao^er ones ; such pardon-begging among the polite ones ; such spurt- ing of ponies, such clambering of cart-horses ! All were bent on going as far as they could — all except Jawleyford, who sat curvetting and prancing in the patronizing sort of way gentlemen do who en- courage hounds for the sake of the manly spirit the sport engen- ders, and the advantage hunting is of in promoting our unrivalled breed of horses. His lordship having slipped away, horn in hand, under pretence of blowing the hounds out of cover, as soon as he set Jack at the field, had now got a good start, and, horse well in hand, was sailing away in their wake. " F-o-o-r-r-ard ! " screamed Frostyface, coming up alongside of him, holding his horse — a magnificent thoroughbred bay — well by the head, and settling himself into his saddle as he went. " F-o-r-rard I " screeched his lordship, thrusting his spectacles on to his nose. " Twang — twang — twang,'''' went the huntsman's deep-sounding horn. " Tweet — fweet — Viveet,''^ went his lordship's shriller one. " In for a stinger, my lurd," observed Jack, returning his horn to the case. " Hope so," replied his lordship, pocketing his. They then flew the first fence together. " F-o-r-r-ard ! " screamed Jack in the air, as he saw the hounds packing well together, and racing with a breast-high scent. " F-o-r-rard ! " screamed his lordship, who was a sort of echo to his huntsman, just as Jack Spraggon was echo to his lordship. " He's away for Gunnersby Craigs," observed Jack, pointing that way, for they were good ten miles ofl; " Hope so," replied his lordship, for whom the distance could never be too great, provided the pace corresponded. '■'• F-o-o-r-rard ! '''' screamed Jack. " F-o-r-rard ! " screeched his lordship. So they went flying and " forrarding " together ; none of the field — thanks to Jack Spraggon — being able to overtake them. " Y-o-o-nder he goes ! " at last cried Frosty, taking ofi" his cap as he viewed the fox, some half-mile ahead, stealing away round the Bide of Newington hill. jm. sponge's sroiiTUNG tour. 135 " Tallyho ! " screeched his lordship, riding with his flat hat in the air, by way of exciting the striving field to still further exertion. " He's a good-un ! " exclaimed Frosty, eyeing the fox's going. " He is that ! " replied his lordship, staring at him with all his might. Then they rode on, and were presently rounding Newiugton hill themselves, the hounds packing well together and carrying a famous head. His lordship now looked to see what was going on behind. Scrambleford hill was far in the rear. Jawleyford and the boy in blue were altogether lost in the distance. A quarter of a mile or so this way were a couple of dots of horsemen, one on a white, the other on a dark colour — most likely Jones, the keeper, and Farmer Stubble, on the foaly mare. Then, a little nearer, was a man in a hedge, trying to coax his horse after him, stopping the way of two boys in white trousers, whose ponies looked like 'rats. Again, a little nearer, were some of the persevering ones — men who still hold on in the forlorn hopes of a check — all dark-coated, and mostly trousered. Then came the last of the red-coats — Tom Washball, Charley Joyce, and Sam Sloman, riding well in the first flight of second horsemen — his lordship's pad-groom, Mr. Fossick's man in drab with a green collar, Mr. Wake's in blue, also a lad in scarlet and a flat hat, with a second horse for the huntsman. Drawing still nearer came the ruck — men in red, men in brown, men in livery, a farmer or two in fustian, all mingled together ; and a few hundred yards before these, and close upon his lordship, were the elite of the field — five men in scarlet and one in black. Let us see who they are. By the powers, Mr. Sponge is first ! — Sponge sailing away at his ease, followed by Jack, who is staring at him through his great lamps, longing to launch out at him, but as yet wanting an excuse ; Sponge having ridden with judgment — judgment at least in everything except in having taken the lead of Jack. After Jack comes old black-booted Blossomnose ; and Messrs. Wake, Fossick, and Fyle, complete our complement of five. They are all riding steadily and well ; all very irate, however, at the stranger for going before them, and ready to back Jack in anything he may say or do. On, on they go ; the hounds still pressing forward, though not carrying quite so good a head as before. In truth, they have run four miles in twenty minutes; pretty good going anywhere except upon paper, where they always go unnaturally fast. However, there they are still pressing on, though with considerably less music than before. After rounding Newington Hill, they got into a wilder and worse sort of country, among moorish, ill-cultivated land, with cold un- wholesome-looking fallows. The day, too, seemed changing for the worse ; a heavy black cloud hanging overhead. The hounds were at length brought to their noses. 136 MR. sponge's sporting tour. His lordship, who had been riding all eyes, ears, and fears, fore- saw the probability of this ; and pulling-to his horse, held up his hand, the usual signal for Jack to "sing out" and stop the field. Sponge saw the signal, but, unfortunately, Hercules didn't ; and tear- ing along with his head to the ground, resolutely bore our friend not only past his lordship, but right on to where the now stooping pack were barely feathering on the line. Then Jack and his lordship sung out together. " Hold hard ! " screeched his lordship, in a dreadful state of ex- citement. " Hold hard ! " thundered Jack. Sponge xvas holding hard — hard enough to split the horse's jaws, but the beast would go on, notwithstanding. • " By the powers, he's among 'em again ! " shouted his lordship, as the resolute beast, with his upturned head almost pulled round to Sponge's knee, went star-gazing on like the blind man in Regent Street. " Sing oui. Jack ! sing out ! for heaven's sake sing out," shrieked his lordship, shutting his eyes, as he added, " or he'll kill every man Jack of them." " Now, Sur! " roared Jack, "can't you steer that ere aggravatin' quadruped of yours ? " " Oh, you pestilential son of a pontry-maid ! " screeched his lord- ship, as Brilliant ran yelping away from under Sponge's horse's feet. " Sing out, -Jack ! sing out ! " gasped his lordship again. " Oh, you scandalous, hypocritical, rusty-booted, numb-handed son of a puffing corn-cutter, why don't you turn your attention to feeding hens, cultivating cabbages, or making pantaloons for small folk, instead of killing hounds in this wholesale way ! " roared Jack ; an inquii-y that set him foaming again. "Oh, you unsightly, sanctified, idolatrous, Bagnigge-Wells cop- persmith, you think because I'm a lord, and can't swear or use coarse language, that • you may do what you like ; rot you, sir, I'll present you with a testimonial ! I'll settle a hundred a-yearupon you if you'll quit the country. By the powers, they're away again ! " added his lordship, who, with one eye on Sponge and the other on the pack, had been watching Frosty lifting them over the bad scenting ground, till, holding them on to a hedgerow beyond, they struck the scent on good sound pasture, and went away at score, every hound throwing his tongue, and filling the air with joyful melody. Away they swept like a hurricane. "F-o-o-rard ! " was again tbe cry. "Hang it. Jack," exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, laying his hand on his double's shoulder, as they galloped along side of each other — " hang it. Jack, see if you can't sarve out this unrighteous, maliogany- booted, rattlesnake. Do, if you die for it ! — I'll bury your re- mainders genteelly — patent coffin with brass nails, all to yourself — put Frosty and all the fellows in black, and raise a white marble MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 137 monument to your memory, declaring you were tlic most spotless virtuous man under the sun." " Let me off dining with Jaw, and I'll do my best," replied Jack. " Done! " screamed his lordship, flourishing his right arm in the air, as he flew over a great stone wall. A good many of the horses and sportsmen too had had enough before the hounds checked ; and the quick way Frosty lifted them and hit off the scent, did not give them much time to recruit. Many of them now sat, hand in hand, mopping, and pufliug, and turning their red perspiring faces to the wind. " PoougJi,'''' gasped one, as if he was going to be sick ; " Puff," went another ; " Oh ! but its 'ot ! " exclaimed a third, pulling off his limj) neckcloth; "Wonder if there's any ale hereabouts," cried a fourth ; " Terrible run ! " observed a fifth ; " Ten miles at least," gasped another. Meanwhile the hounds went streaming on ; and it is wonderful how soon those who don't follow are left hopelessly in the rear. Of the few that did follow, Mr. Sponge, however, was one. Nothing daunted by the compliments that had been paid him, he got Hercules well in hand ; and the horse dropping again on the bit, re- sumed his place in front, going as strong and steadily as ever. Thus he went, throwing the mud in the faces of those behind, regardless of the oaths and imprecations that followed ; Sponge knowing full well they would do the same by him if they could. " All jealousy," said Sponge, spurring his horse. " Never saw such a jealous set of dogs in my life." An accommodating lane soon presented itself, along which they all pounded, with the hounds running parallel through the enclosures on the left ; Sponge sending such volleys of jiebbles and mud in his rear as made it advisable to keep a good way behind him. The line was now apparently for Firlingham Woods ; but on nearing the thatched cottage on Gasper Heath, the fox, most likely being headed, had turned short to the right ; and the chase now lay over Sheeplow Water meadows, and so on to Bolsover brick-fields, when the pack again changed from hunting to racing, and the pace for a time was severe. His lordship having got his second horse at the turn, was ready for the tussle, and plied away vigorously, riding, as usual, with all his heart, with all his mind, with all his soul, and with all his strength ; while Jack, still on the grey, came plodding diligently along in the rear, saving his horse as much as he could. His lordship charged a stiff flight of rails in the brick-fields, while Jack, thinking to save his, rode at a weak place in the fence, a little higher up, and in an instant was souse overhead in a clay-hole. " Duck under, Jack ! duck under ! " screamed his lordship, as Jack's head rose to the surfece. '•'•Duck under ! youll have it full directly /^^ added he, eyeing Sponge and the rest coming up. Sponge, however, saw the splash, and turning a little lower down, 138 MR. sponge's sporting tour. landed safe on sound ground ; while poor Blossomnose, who was next, went floundering overhead also. But the pace was too good to stop to fish them out. " Dash it," said Sponge, looking at them splashing about, " but that was a near go for me ! " Jack being thus disj»osed of, Sponge, with increased confidence, rose in his stirrups, easing the redoubtable Hercules ; and patting him on the shoulder, at the same time that he gave him the gentlest possible touch of the spur, exclaimed, " By the powers, we'll show these old Flat Hats the trick ! " He then commenced humming — Mister Sponge, the raspers taking, Sets the junkers' nerves a shaking ; — and riding cheerfully on, he at length found himself on the confines of a wild, rough-looking moor, with an undulating range of hills in the distance. Frostyface and Lord Scamperdale here for the first time diverged from the line the hounds were running, and made for the neck of a smooth, fiat, rather inviting-looking piece of ground, instead of cross- ing it. Sponge, thinking to get a niche, rode to it; and the " deeper and deeper still " sort of fiounder his horse made soon let him know that he was in a bog. The impetuous Hercules rushed and reared onwards as if to clear the wide expanse ; and alighting still lower, shot Sponge right overhead in the middle. " Thafs cooked your goose ! " exclaimed his lordship, eyeing Sponge and his horse floundering about in the black porridge-like mess. " Catch my horse ! " hallooed Sponge to the first whip, who came galloping up as Hercules was breasting his way out again. " Catch him yourself," grunted the man, galloping on. A peat-cutter, more humane, received the horse as he emerged from the black sea, exclaiming, as the now-piebald Sponge came lob- bing after on foot, "A, sir! but ye should niver set tee to ride through sic a place as that ! " Sponge having generously rewarded the man v/ith a fourpenny piece, for catching his horse and scraping the thick of the mud off him, again mounted and cantered round the point he should at Grst have gone ; but his chance was out — the further he went, the furtlier he was left behind ; till at last, pulling up, he stood watching tlic diminishing pack, rolling like marbles over the top of Botlierjade Hill, followed by his lordship hugging his horse round the neck as he v/eut, and the huntsman and whips leading and driving theirs up be- fore them. " Nasty jealous old beggar ! " said Sponge, eyeing his lessening lordship disappearing over the hill too. Sponge then performed the sickening ceremony of turning away from hounds running ; not but JIR. sponge's sporting tour. 139 that he might have plodded on on the line, and perhaps seen or heard ■what became of the fox, but Sponge didn't hunt on those terms. Like a good many other gentlemen, he would be first, or nowhere. If it was any consolation to him, he had plenty of companions in misfortune. The line was dotted with hovrfemeu, back to the brick- fields. The first person he overtook wending his way home in the discontented, moody humour of a thrown-out man, was Mr. Puffing- ton, master of the Hanby hounds ; at whose appearance at the meet we expressed our surprise. Neighbouring masters of hounds are often more or less jealous of each other. No man in the master-of-hound world is too insignificant for censure. Lord Scamperdale icas an undoubted sportsman ; while poor Mr. Puffington thought of nothing but how to be thought one. Hearing the mistaken rumour that a great writer was down, he thought that his chance of immortality was arrived ; and ordering his best horse, and putting on his best apparel, had braved the jibes and sneers of Jack and his lordship for the purpose of scraping ac- quaintance with the stranger. In that he had been foiled : there was no time at the meet to get introduced, neither could he get jostled beside Sponge in going down to the cover ; while the quick find, the quick get away, followed by the quick thing we have described, were equally unfavourable to the undertaking. Nevertheless, Mr. Puffing- ton had held on beyond the brick-fields ; and had he but persevered a little further, he would have had the satisfaction of helping Mr. Sponge out of the bog. Sponge now, seeing a red coat a little before, trotted on, and quickly overtook a fine nippy, satin-stocked, dandified looking gentle- man, with marvellously smart leathers and boots — a great contrast to the large, roomy, bargeman-like costume of the members of the Flat Hat Hunt. " You're not hurt, I hope ? " exclaimed Mr. Puffington, with well-feigned anxiety, as he looked at Mr. Sponge's black-daubed clothes. " Oh no ! " replied Sponge. " Oh no !— fell soft— fell soft. More dirt, less hurt — more dirt, less hurt." " Why, you've been in a bog ! " exclaimed Mr. Puffington, eyeing the much-stained Hercules. " Almost over head," replied Sponge. " Scamperdale saw me going, and hadn't the grace to holloa." " Ah, that's like him," replied Mr. Puffington, — " that's like him : there's nothing pleases him so much as getting fellows into grief." " Not very polite to a stranger," observed Mr. Sponge. " No, it isn't," replied Mr. Puffington, — " no, it isn't; far from it, indeed — far from it; but, low be it spoken," added he, " his lordship is only a roughish sort of customer." 140 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " So he is," replied Mr. Sponge, who thought it fine to abuse a nobleman. " The fact is," said Mr. Puffington, " these Flat Hat chaps are all snobs. They think there are no such fine fellows as themselves under the sun; and if ever a stranger looks near them, they make a point of being as rude and disagreeable to him as they possibly can. This is what they call keeping the hunt select." " Indeed ! " observed Mr. Sponge, recollecting how they had com- plimented him; adding, " They seem a queer set." " There's a fellow they call ' Jack,' " observed Mr. Puffington, " who acts as a sort of bulldog to his lordship, and worries whoever his lordship sets him upon. He got into a clay-hole a little further back, and a precious splashing he was making, along with the. chap- lain, old Blossomnose." '' Ah, I saw him," observed Mr. Sponge. " You should come and see 7ny hounds," observed Mr. Puffington. " What are they ? " asked Sponge. " The Hanby," replied Mr. Puffington. " Oh ! then you are Mr. Puffington," observed Sponge, who had a sort of general acquaintance with all the hounds and masters — indeed, with all the meets of all the hounds in the kingdom — which he read in the weekly lists in " Bell's Life," just as he read " Mogg's Cab Fares." " Then you are Mr. Puffington ? " observed Sponge. " The same," replied the stranger. " I'll have a look at you," observed Sponge ; adding, " do you take in horses ? " " Yours, of course,'''' replied Mr. Puffington, bowing ; adding something about great public characters, which Sponge didn't under- stand. " I'll be down upon you, as the extinguisher said to the rushlight," observed Mr. Sponge. " Do,^^ said Mr. Puffington ; " come before the frost. Where are you staying now V " " I'm at Jawleyford's," replied our friend. " Indeed ! — Jawleyford's, are you ? " repeated Mr. Puffington. " Grood fellow, Jawleyford — ^gentleman, Jawleyford. How long do you stay ? " " Why, I haven't made up my mind," replied Sponge. "Have no thoughts of budging at present." " Ah, well — ^good quarters," said Mr. Puffington, who now smelt a rat ; " good quarters— nice girls — fine fortune — fine place, Jawley- ford Court. Well, book me for the next visit," added he. " I will," said Sponge, " and no mistake. What do they call your shop ? " " Hanby House," replied Mr. Puffington ; " Hanby House — any body can toll you where Hanby House is." MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 141 " I'll not forget," said Mr. Sponge, booking it in his mind, and eyeing his victim. " I'll show you a fine pack of hounds," said Mr. Puffington ; " far liner animals than those of old Scamperdale's — steady, true hunting hounds, that won't go a yard without a scent — none of your jealouy flashy, frantic devils, that will tear over half a township without one, and are always looking out for ' holloas ' and assistance " Mr. Puffington was interrupted in the comparison he was about to draw between his lordship's hounds and his, by arriving at the Bolsover brick-fields, and seeing Jack and Blossomnose, horse in hand, running to and fro, while sundry countrymen blobbed about in the clay-hole they had so recently occupied. Tom Washball, Mr. Wake, Mr. Fyle, Mr. Fossick, and several dark-coated horsemen and boys, were congregated around. Jack had lost his spectacles, and Blossomnose his whip, and the countrymen were diving for them. "Not hurt, I hope? " said Mr. Puffington, in the most dandified tone of indifi"erence, as he rode up to where Jack and Blossomnose were churning the water in their boots, stamping up and down, trying to get themselves warm. " Hurt be hanged ! " replied Jack, who had a frightful squint, that turned his eyes inside out when he was in a passion : " Hurt be hanged ! " said he ; " might have been drowned, for anything you'd have cared." " I should have been sorry for that," replied Mr. Puffington ; adding, " The Flat Hat Hunt could ill-afford to lose so useful and ornamental a member." " I don't know what the Flat Hat Hunt can afford to lose," splut- tered Jack, who hadn't got all the clay out of his mouth ; " but I know they can afford to do without the company of certain gentlemen who shall be nameless," said he, looking at Sponge and Puffington as he thought, but in reality showing nothing but the whites of his eyes. '' I told you so," said Puffington, jerking his head towards Jack, as Sponge and he turned their horses' heads to ride away ; " I told you so," repeated he ; " that's a specimen of their style ; adding, " they are the greatest set of ruffians under the sun." The new acquaintances then jogged on together as far as the cross roads at Stewley, when Puffington, having bound Sponge in his own recognisance to come to him when he left Jawleyford Court, pointed him out his way, and with a most hearty shake of the hands the new- made friends parted. 142 MR. sponge's sporting tour. CHAPTER XXIV. LORD 8CAMPERDALE AT HOME. We fear our fair friends will expect something gay from the above heading — ^lamps and flambeaux outside, fiddlers, feathers, and flirters in. ^Nothing of the sort, fair ladies — nothing of the sort. Lord Scam- perdale " at home," simply means that his lordship was not out hunt- ing, that he had got his dirty boots and breeches off, and dry tweeds and tartans on. Lord Scamperdale was the eighth earl : and, according to the usual alternating course of great English families — one generation living and the next starving — it was his lordship's turn to live ; but the seventh earl having been rather unreasonable in the length of his lease, the present earl, who during the lifetime of his father was Lord Hardup, had contracted such parsimonious habits, that when he came into possession he could not shake them off ; and but for the fortunate friendship of Abraham Brown, the village blacksmith, who had given his young idea a sporting turn, entering him with ferrets and rabbits, and so training him on with terriers and rat-catching, badg- er-bating and otter-hunting, up to the noble sport of fox-hunting it- self, in all probability his lordship would have been a regular miser. As it was, he did not spend a halfpenny upon anything but hunting ; and his hunting, though well, was still economically done, costing him some couple of thousand a-year, to which, for the sake of euphony, Jack used to add an extra five hundred ; " two thousand five underd a-year, five-and-twenty underd a-year," sounding better, as Jack thought, and more imposing than a couple of thousand, or two thou- sand a year. Then there were few days on which Jack didn't inform the field what the hounds cost his lordship, or rather what they didn't cost him. Woodmansterne, his lordship's principal residence, was a fine place. It stood in an undulating park of 800 acres, with its church, and its lakes and its heronry, and its decoy, and its race-course, and its varied grasses of the choicest kinds, for feeding the numerous herds of deer, so well known at Temple Bar and Charing-cross as the Woodmansterne venison. The house was a modern edifice, built by the sixth earl, who, having been a " liver," had run himself aground by his enormous outlay on this Italian structure, which was just finished when he died. The fourth earl, who, we should have stated, was a " liver " too, was a man of virtn- — a great traveller and collector of coins, pictures, statues, marbles, and curiosities generally — things tliat are very dear to buy, but oftentimes extremely cheap when sold ; and having col- MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 143 lected a vast quantity from all parts of the world (no easy feat in those days), he made them heirlooms, and departed this life, leaving the next earl the pleasure of contemplating them. The fifth earl having duly starved through life, then made way for the sixth ; who, finding such a quantity of valuables stowed away as he thought in rather a confined way, sent to London for a firstrate architect, Sir Thomas Squareall (who always posted with four horses), who forthwith pulled down the old brick-and-stone Elizabethan mansion, and built the present splendid Italian structure, of the finest polished stone, at an expense of — furniture and all — say 120,000/. : Sir Thomas's estimates being 30,000/. The seventh earl of course they starved ; and the present lord, at the age of forty-three, found himself in possession of house, and coins, and curiosities ; and, best of all, of some 90,000/. in the funds, which had quietly rolled up during the latter part of his venerable parent's existence. His lordship then took counsel with himself — first, whether he should marry or remain single ; secondly, whether he should live or starve. Having considered the subject with all the attention a limited allowance of brains permitted, he came to the resolution that the second proposition depended a good deal upon the first ; "• for," said he to himself, " if I marry, my lady, pei*- haps, may make me live ; and therefore," said he, " perhaps I'd bet- ter remain single." At all events, he came to the determination not to marry in a hurry ; and until he did, he felt there was no occasion for him to inconvenience himself by living. So he had the house put away in brown Holland, the carpets rolled up, the pictures covered, the statues shrouded in muslin, the cabiuets of curiosities locked, the plate secured, the china closeted, and everything arranged with the greatest care against the time, which he put before him in the dis- tance like a target, when he should marry and begin to live. At first he gave two or three great dinners a-year about the height of the fruit season, and when it was getting too ripe for carriage to London by the old coaches — when a grand airing of the state-rooms used to take place, and ladies from all parts of the country used to sit shivering with their bare shoulders, all anxious for the honours of the head of the table. His lordship always held out that he was a marrying man ; but even if he hadn't they would have come all the same, an unmarried man being always clearly on the cards : and though he was stumpy, and clumsy, and ugly, with as little to say for himself as could well be conceived, they all agreed that he was a most engaging, attractive man — quite a pattern of a man. Even on horseback, and in his hunting clothes in which he looked far the best, he was only a coarse, square, bull-headed looking man, with hard, dry, round, matter-of-fact features, that never look young, and yet some- how never get old. Indeed, barring the change from brown to grey of his short stubbly whiskers, which he trained with great care into a curve almost on to his cheek bone, he looked very little older at tho 144 MR. sponge's sporting tour. period of whicli we are writing than he did a dozen years before, when he was Lord Hardup. These dozen years, however, had brought him down in his doings. The dinners had gradually dwindled away altogether, and he had had all the large tablecloths and napkins rough dried and locked away against he got married ; an event that he seemed more anxious to provide for, the more unlikely it became. He had also abdicated the main body of the mansion, and taken up his quarters in what used to be the steward's room ; into which he could creep quietly by a side door opening from the outer entrance, and so save frequent exposure to the cold and damp of the large cathedral-like- hall beyond. Through the steward's room, was what used to be the muniment room, which he converted into a bed-room for himself; and a little further along the passage was another small chamber, made out of what used to be the plate-room, whereof Jack, or whoever was in office, had the possession. All three rooms were furnished in the roughest, coarsest, homeliest way — his lordship wishing to keep all the good furniture against he got married. The sitting-room, or parlour as his lordship called it, had an old grey drugget for a carpet, an old round black mahogany table on castors, that the last steward had ejected as too bad for him, four semicircular wooden-bottomed walnut smoking-chairs ; an old spindle-shanked sideboard with very little middle, over which swung a few book shelves with the termina- tion of their green strings surmounted by a couple of foxes' brushes. Small as the shelves were, they were larger than his lordship wanted — two books, one for Jack and one for himself, being all they contained ; while the other shelves were ifilled with hunting-horns, odd spurs, knots of whipcord, piles of halfpence, lucifer match boxes, gun-charges, and such like miscellaneous articles. His lordship's fair was as rough as his furniture. He was a great admirer of tripe, cow-heel, and delicacies of that kind ; he had tripe twice a-week — boiled one day, fried another. He was also a great patron of beefsteaks, which he ate half raw, with slices of cold onion served in a saucer with water. It was a beefsteak-and-batter -pudding day on which the foregoing run took place ; and his lordship and Jack having satisfied nature off their respective dishes — for they only had vegetables in common — and having finished off' with some very strong Cheshire cheese, wheeled their chairs to the fire, while Bags the butler cleared the table and placed it between them. They were dressed in full suits of flaming large-checked red-and-yellow tartans, the tartan of that noble clan the " Stunners," with black-and-white Shetland hose and red slippers. His lordship and Jack had related their mutual adventures by cross visits to each other's bed-rooms while dressing ; and, dinner being an- nounced by the time they were ready, they had fallen to, and applied themselves diligently to the victuals, and now very considerately un- MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 145 buttoned their many-pocketed waistcoats and stuck out their legs, to give it a fair chance of digesting. They seldom spoke much until his lordship had had his nap, which he generally took immediately after dinner ; but on this particular night he sat bending forward in his chair, picking his teeth and looking at his toes, evidently ill at ease in his mind. Jack guessed the cause but didn't say anything. Sponge, he thought, had beat him. At length his lordship threw himself back in his chair, and stretching his little queer legs out before liim, began to breathe thicker and thicker, till at last he got the melody up to a grunt. It was not the fine generous snore of a sleep that he usually enjoyed, but, short, fitful, broken naps, that generally terminated in spasmodic jerks of the arms or legs. These grew worse, till at last all four went at once, like the limbs of a Peter Waggey, when, throwing him- self forward with a violent efibrt, he awoke ; and finding his horse was not a-top of him, as he thought, he gave vent to his feelings in the following ejaculations : — " Oh, Jack, I'm onhappy ! " exclaimed he. " I'm distressed ! " continued he. "I'm ivretched i '''' added he, slapping his knees. " Fm perfectly miserable ! " he concluded, with a strong emphasis on the " miserable." "What's the matter?" asked Jack, who was half asleep himself. " Oh, that Mr. Something ! — he'll be the death of me ! " observed his lordship. " I thought so," replied Jack ; " what's the chap been after now ? " " I dreamt he'd killed old Lablache — best hound I have," replied his lordship. " He be — ," grunted Jack. " Ah, it's all very well for you to say ' he be this ' and ' he be that,' but I can tell you what, that fellow is going to be a very awk- ward customer — a terrible thorn in my side." '•'■ Humph ! ''"' grunted Jack, who didn't see how. " There's mischief about that fellow," continued his lordship, pouring himself out half a tumbler of gin, and filling it up with water. " There's mischief about the fellow. I don't like his looks — I don't like his coat — I don't like his boots — I don't like any- thing about him, I'd rather see the back of him than the front. He must be got rid of," added his lordship. " Well, I did my best to-day, I'm sure," replied Jack. " I was deuced near wanting the patent cofiin you were so good as to promise me." " You did your work wcZ^," replied his lordship; "you did your work well ; and you shall have my other specs till I can get you a new pair from town; and if you'll serve me again, I'll remember you in my will — I'll leave you something handsome." 7 146 m. eroKcc's sj^>etc\-g tocs. " Fm ywLr man/' replied Jack. ''' I nerer wa,5 so bothened with a tVlIow in tar life,*' obeerrcd his lonkkip. " Captain Topjawyer was had enoo^b, and always pret^scd for too close on the ho and,?, but he would pall ap at a check; bat this rostj booted 'bominatton s?sty *' ififf no great odds what comes of such mbbage aa that.' Now, Fnosty, yoa know, in a geneial way, is a meet polne, Cur-spoken man, ^eeial^ belore ChristmaB^ wbm be b^ins to look for the tipe ; amd as we are not mueb troubled with strainers, thanks to yoor ff^wHaJyi** way of Itawilln^ ^diaB, I IdtOD^t F^oslj would have made Ae moBt of thb natntal si^jm of IKresy and been as polite to him as MKSBble. Howerear^ be was eiidcntly no frvonrite cf Froslj's. So I jnt asbed — not thai one likes to be familiar with serrants, yoa kno>w„ bvt still this hrown-booted b^^ar is enoogb to excite one's c m rip aity, and to make any one eo oat of one*^ way a little, — so I jaei asked Frosty what be fanew dboat bim. ^All orcr tbe kft^' said Fro«ty« jnr^ng bis tbomb back orer bis ^oaMer, and lookmc as knowing as a goose with one eye; '^^all over tbe 1^" repeated be. 'Wbat^ ow tbe left? 'said L ' Why, thb Air. Sponge^' said be *How Bo^'ai^ed L 'Why,' said FitKty, 'he's come gammonin* down bere tbat he's a great man — lUQ of money, and bones, and so on; bat it\ all my eye, he's no more a great amn than I aii^* " MR. sponge's 8POBTINO TOftt 147 " The deuce ! '' exclaimed Jack, who had sat squinting and listening intently as his lordship procoeded. "Well, now, hang me, I thought he was a snob the moment I saw him," continued he; Jack being one of those clever gentlemen who know everything after they are told. " ' Well, how do you know, Jack ? ' said I to Frosty. ' Oh, I Jfenoujs,' replied he, as if he was certain about it. Plowever, I wa.sn't aatiafied without' knowing too; and, a.q we kept jogging on, we camo to the old C<)ach and Horses, and I said to Jack, ' We may as well have a drop of something to warm uh.' 8o we halted, and had glasses of brandy apiece, whips and all ; and then, a.s we jogged on again, I just said to Jack, casually, ' Did you say it was Mr. Bloesomnose told you about old Brown Boots ? ' ' No — Blossomnosc — no,' replied he, as if Blossom never hafl anything half so good to tell; ' it was a young woman,' said he, in an under tone, ' who told me, and she had it from old Brown Boots's groom.' " " Well, that's good^'' observed Jack, diving his hands into the very bottom of hi.s great tartan trou.ser pockets and shooting his legs out before him; '' Well, that'.s good,"' repeated he, falling into a sort of reverie. " Well, but what can we make of it ? " at length inquired he, after a long pau.0jniN(i TOUll. " You'll 'avo U) I'niwl it" you rido 'Fa-rlos/' obsorvod Loathor, "if not walk. Uloss vou ! I'vo boon n missiu' of him ami iho "aok most iho 'olo night." " Imlooil ! " roplioil Mr. Sponno. who boiian to bo alaiMuod lost his huiitiM-;' mii;;ht bo brouu;ht to an abrupt tormiiiation. " 'I'riio, as I'm 'oro," rojoinoil iiOatiior. " llo's just as luuoh oil" his i>;rub as ho vos whou.ho oomoM iu ; uovor sooM au 'oss uu>ro rog- 'larlv tlishod — umn* '' " Woll, voU," sail! i\lr. Si'onoo, iutorniptinp; tho oataloguo of griovauoos; " .1 s'lu^'"^^^ ^ must ilo as vou sav — I s'poso I must ilo as ^ou s{\v : what, sort of a day is it ? " " Vv, tho days not a bad day; at loast. that's to say. it's not a wory haiigrivatin" day. I'vo soon a bottoror day. »» oourso ; but. I'vo also soou many a m\\c\\ wovsor day, ai\d days at. this timo of yoar, you know, aro apt to ohango, — somotimos, iu courso. i'ox- tho bottoror — sonu>timos. in oourso. for tho worsor." " Ig it a />().t'your diotionary words. Mr. Loathor stood silont, twisting his hat about Tho oin»sO(|Uonoo of all tl»is wa^. that Mr. Sjiongo dotormiuod to rido ovor to JSousuoh llonso io broakfast, whioh would givo his horso half au lu>ur in tho stalvk> to oat a t'ood of oorn. .\ooordingly. ho dosirod Loathor to bring him his shaving-wator, and havo tho horso ready iu tho stablo in half an hour, whithor, in dvu> tiuu\ Mr. Sponge oniorgoil by tho baok door, without onoountoring any of tho t'amily. 'I'ho autbling juobald h>okod so orostt'allon atul woo-bogono ii\ all tho swaddling-olothi\s in whioh Loathor had got him onvolopod, that jNlr. Spongo did not oaro io look at tho gallant llormilos, who ooou- piod a tomporary looso box at tho far ond of tho dark stablo. lost ho uiight look worso. \li\ tlioroforo. just imnmtod Multuni-iu-Tarvo as Loathor lod him out at tho door, and sot otf without a word. *' Woll. hang nu> but you aro a gtHul judgo of woathor," oxolaimod Spougo to hin\solf, as ho got into tho tiold at tho baok of tho house, and fouiid tho horso mado littlo improt«siot> on tho grass. " iVo frost/'' ropoatod ho, broatbiiig into tho air; " why, it'vS froo/.ing now, out of tho sun." On gotting into Marygi^ld .Lauo our t'riond drow roin, and was for turi\ing baok, but tho rosoluto ohostnut toi^k tho bit boiwoou his tooth aud shook his hoad. as il' dotorn\in»>d to go on. " Dh, you brute.'" growlod Mr. Spongo. lot tit\g tho spurs into his sides with a hearty good-will, whioh oausod tho animal to kiok, J MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 347 as if be meant to stand on his head. " Ah, you ivill, will ye ? " ex- claimed Mr. Sponge, letting the spurs in again as the animal replaced his legs on the ground. Up they went again, if possible higher than before. The brute was clearly full of mischief, and even if the hounds did not throw off, which there was little prospect of their doing from the appearance of the weather, Mr. Sponge felt that it would be well to get some of the nonsense taken out of him ; and, moreover, going' to Nonsuch House, would give him a chance of establishing a billet there — a chance that he had been deprived of by Sir Harry's abrupt departure from Farmer Peastraw's. So saying, our friend gathered his horse together, and settling himself in his saddle, made his sound hoofs ring upon the hard road. " He 7nay hunt," thought Mr. Sponge, as he rattled along; "such a rum beggar as Sir Harry may think it fun to go out in a frost. It's hard, too," said he, as he saw the poor turnip-rollers enveloped in their thick shawls, and watched them thumping their arms against their sides to drive the cold from their finger ends. Multum-in-Parvo was a good sound-constitutioned horse, hard and firm as a cricket-ball, a horse that would not turn a hair for a trifle even on a hunting morning, let alone on such a thorough chiller as this one was; and Mr. Sponge, after going along at a good round pace, and getting over the ground much quicker than he did when the road was all new to him, and he had to ask his way, at length drew in to see what o'clock it was. It was only half-past nine, and already in the far distance he saw the encircling woods of Nonsuch House. " Shall be early," said Mr. Sponge, returning his watch to his waistcoat-pocket, and diving into his cutty coat-pocket for the cigar- case. Having struck a light, he now laid the rein on the horse's neck and pi'oceeded leisurely along, the animal stei)ping gaily and throwing its head about as if he was tlie quietest, most trustworthy nag in the world. If he got there at half-past ten, Mr. Sponge cal- culated he would have plenty of time to see after his horse, get his own breakfast, and see how the land lay for a billet. It would be impossible to hunt before twelve ; so he went smoking and sauntering along, now wondering whether he would be able to establish a billet, now thinking how he would like to sell Sir Harry a horse, then considering whether he would be likely to pay for him, and enlivening the general reflections by ringing his spurs against his stirrup-irons. Having passed the lodges at the end of the avenue, he cocked his hat, twiddled his hair, felt his tie, and arranged for a becoming ap- pearance. The sudden turn of the road brought him full upon the house. How changed the scene 1 Instead of scarlet-coated youths thronging the gravelled ring, flourishing their scented kerchiefs and 348 MR. sponge's sporting tour. hunting-wliips — instead of buxom Abigails and handsome mistresses hanging out of the windows, flirting and chatting and ogling, the door was shut, the blinds were down, the shutters closed, and the whole house had the appearance of mourning. Mr. Sponge reined up involuntarily, startled at the change of scene. What could have happened ! Could Sir Harry be dead ? Could my lady have eloped ? " Oh, that horrid Bugles ! " thought he; " he looked like a gay deceiver." And Mr. Sponge felt as if he had sustained a personal injury. Just as these thoughts were passing in his mind, a drowsy, slat- ternly charwoman, in an old black straw bonnet and grey bedgown, opened one of the shutters, and throwing up the sash of the window by where Mr. Sponge sat, disclosed the contents of the apartment. The last waxlight was just dying out in the centre of a splendid can- delabra on the middle of a table scattered about with claret-jugs, glasses, decanters, pine-apple tops, grape-dishes, cakes, anehovy-toast plates, devilled biscuit-racks — all the concomitants of a sumptuous" entertainment. "Sir Harry at home?" asked Mr. Sponge, making the woman sensible of his presence, by cracking his whip close to her ear. " No," replied the dame, gruffly, commencing an assault upon the nearest chair with a duster. " Where is he ? " asked our friend. " Bed, to bo sm-e," replied the woman, in the same tone. " Bed, to be sure," repeated Mr. Sponge. " I don't think there's any ' sure ' in the case. Do you know what o'clock it is ? " asked he. " No," replied the woman, flopping away at another chair, and arrangiug the crimson velvet curtains on the holders. Mr. Sponge was rather nonplussed. His red coat did not com- mand the respect that a red coat generally does. The fact was, they had such queer people in red coats at Nonsuch House, that a red coat was rather an object of suspicion than otherwise. " Well, but my good woman," continued Mr. Sponge, softening his tone, " can you tell me where I shall find anybody who can tell me anything about the hounds ? " " No," growled tlie woman, still flopping, and whisking, and knocking the furniture about. " I'll remember you for your trouble," observed Mr. Sponge, diving his right hand into his breeches' pocket. " Mr. Bottleends be gone to bed," observed the woman, now ceasing her evolutions, and parting her grisly, disordered tresses, as she advanced and stood staring, with her arms akimbo, out of the window. She was the under-housemaid's deputy ; all the servants at Nonsuch House doing the rough of their work by deputy. Lady Scattercash was a real lady, and liked to have the credit of the house maintained, which of course can only be done by letting the upper MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 349 servants do nothing. " Mr. Bottleends be gone to bed," observed the woman. " Mr. Bottleends ? " repeated Mr. Sponge; " who's he ? " " The butler, to be sure," replied she, astonished that any person should have to ask who such an important personage was. " Can't you call him ? " asked Mr. Sponge, still fumbling in his pocket. '• Couldn't, if it was ever so," replied the dame, smoothing her dirty blue-checked apron with her still dirtier hand. " Why not ? " asked Mr. Sponge. " Why not ? " repeated the woman ; " why, 'cause Mr. Bottle- ends won't be disturbed by no one. He said when he went to bed that he hadn't to be called till to-morrow." " Not called till to-morrow !" exclaimed Mr. Sponge-, "then is Sir Harry from home ? " " From home, no ; what should put that i' your head ? " sneered the woman. " Why, if the butler's in bed, one may suppose the master's away." " Bout ! " snapped the woman ; " Sir Harry's i' bed — Captin Seedeybuck's i' bed — Captin Quod's i' bed — Captin Spangle's i' bed — Captin Bouncey's i' bed — Captin Cutitfat's i' bed — they're all i' bed 'cept me, and I've got the house to clean and right, and high time it was cleaned and righted, for they've not been i' bed these three nights any on 'em." So saying, she flourished her duster as if about to set-to again. " Well, but tell. me," exclaimed Mr. Sponge, "can I see the foot- man, or the huntsman, or the groom, or a helper, or anybody ? " " Deary knows," replied the woman, thoughtfully, resting her chin on her hand. " I dare say they'll be all i' bed too." " But they are going to hunt, arn't they ? " asked our friend. " Hunt ! " exclaimed the woman ; " what should put that i' your head ? " " Why, they sent me word they were." " It'll be i' bed, then," observed she, again giving symptoms of a desire to return to her dusting. Mr. Sponge, who still kept his hand in his pocket, sat on his horse in a state of stupid bewilderment. He had never seen a case of this sort before — a house shut up, and a master of hounds in bed when the hounds were to meet before the door. It couldn't be the case ; the woman must be dreaming, or drunk, or both. " Well, but my good woman," exclaimed he, as she gave a pun- ishing cut at the chair, as if to make up for lost time ; " well, but my good woman, I wish you would try and find somebody who can tell me something about the hounds. I'm sure they must be going 350 MR. sponge's sporting tour. to hunt. I'll remember you for your trouble, if you will," added he, again diving his hand up to the wrist in his pocket. " I tell you," replied the woman slowly and deliberately, "there'll be no huntin' to-day. Huntin' ! " exclaimed she ; " how can they hunt when they've all had to be carried to bed." " Carried to bed ! had they ? " exclaimed Mr. Sponge ; " what, were they drunk ? " " ]5runk ! ay, to be sure. What would you have them be ? " replied the crone, who seemed to think that drinking was a necessary concomitant of hunting. " Well, but I can see the footman or somebody, surely," observed Mr. Sponge, fearing that his chance was out for a billet, and recol- lecting all Jog's " Bartholo-m-e-t<;s .'' " and " Murry Anns ! " and intimations for him to start. " 'Deed you can't," replied the dame — " ye can see nobody but me," added she, fixing her twinkling eyes intently upon him as she spoke. " Well, that's a pretty go," observed Mr. Sponge aloud to him- self, ringing his spurs against his stirrup-irons. " Pretty go or ugly go," snapped the woman, thinking it was a reflection on herself, " it's all you'll get ; " and thereupon she gave the back of the chair a heartj' bastinadoing, as if in exemplification of the way she would like to serve Mr. Sponge out for the observa- tion. " I came here thinking to get some breakfast," observed Mr. Sponge, casting an eye upon the disordered table, and reconnoitring the bottles and the remains of the dessert. " Did you," said the woman ; " I wish you may get it." " I wish I may," replied he. " If you would manage that for me, just some coffee and a mutton chop or two, I'd remember you," said he, still tantalising her with the sound of the silver in his pocket. " Me mauish it ! " exclaimed the woman, her hopes again rising at the sound ; " me manish it ! how d'ye think I'm to manish sich things ? " asked she. " Why, get at the cook, or the housekeeper, or somebody," re- plied Mr. Sponge. " Cook or housekeeper ! " exclaimed she. " There'll be no cook or housekeeper astir here these many hours yet ; I question," added she, " they get up to-day." " What ! they've been put to bed too, have they ? " asked he. " W-h-y no — not zactly that," drawled the woman; "but when sarvants are kept up three nights out of four, they must make up for lost time v/hen they can." " Well," mused Mr. Sponge, "this is a bother, at all events; get no breakfast, lose my hunt, and perhaps a billet into the bargain. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 351 "Well, there's sixpence for you, my good woman," said he at length, drawing his hand out of his pocket and handing her the contents through the window ; adding, " don't make a beast of yoiirself with it." " It's nabbut fourpencej''' observed the woman, holding it out on the palm of her hand. " Ah, well, you're welcome to it whatever it is," replied our friend, turning his horse to go away. A thought then struck him. " Could you get me a pen and ink, think you ? " asked he ; "I want to write a line to Sir Harry." " Pen and ink ! " replied the woman, who had pocketed the groat and resumed her dusting; " I don't know where they keep no such things as penses and inkses." " Most likely in the drawing-room or the sitting-room, or perhaps in the butler's pantry," observed Mr. Sponge. " Well, you can come in and see," replied the woman, thinking there was no occasion to give herself any more trouble for the four- penny-piece. Our worthy friend sat on his horse a few seconds staring intently into the dining-room window, thinking that lapse of time might cause the four penny-piece to be sufficiently respected to procure him something like directions how to proceed as well to get rid of his horse, as to procure access to the house, the door of which stood frowningly shut. In this, however, he was mistaken, for no sooner had the woman uttered the words, " Well, you can come in and see," than she flaunted into the interior of the room, and commenced a regular series of assaults upon the furniture, throwing the hearth-rug over one chair back, depositing the fire-irons in another, rearing the steel fender up against the Carrara marble chimney-piece, and knock- ing things about in the independent way that servants treat unofi"end- ing furniture when master and mistress are comfortably ensconced in bed. "Flop" went the duster again; "bang" went the furni- ture ; " knock " this chair went against that, and she seemed bent upon putting all things into that happy state of sixes and sevens that characterises a sale of household furniture, when chairs mount tables, and the whole system of domestic economy is revolutionised. Seeing that he was not going to get anything more for his money, our friend at length turned his horse and found his way to the stables by the unerring drag of carriage-wheels. All things there being as matters were in the house, he put the redoubtable nag into a stall, and helped him to a liberal measure of oats out of the well-stored unlocked corn-bin. He then sought the back of the house by the worn flagged-way that connected it with the stables. The back yard was in the admired confusion that might be expected from the woman's account. Empty casks and hampers were piled and stowed away in all directions, while regiments of champagne and other bot- 352 MR. sponge's sporting tour. ties, stood and lay about among blacking bottles, Seltzer water bot- tles, boot-trees, bath-bricks, old brushes, and stumpt-up bosoms. Several pair of dirty top-boots, most of them with the spurs od, were chucked into the shoe-house just as they had been taken off. The kitchen, into which our friend now entered, was in the same disorderly state. Numerous copper pans stood simmering on the charcoal stoves, and the jointless jack still revolved on the spit. A dirty slip-shod girl sat sleeping, with her apron thrown over her head, which rested on the end of a table. The open door of the servants' hall, hard by, disclosed a pile of dress and other clothes, which, after mopping up the ale and other slops, would be carefully folded and taken back to the rooms of their respective owners. " Halloo ! " cried Mr. Sponge, shaking the sleeping girl by the shoulder, which caused her to start up, stare, and rub her eyes in wild affright. " Halloo ! " repeated he, "what's happened you?" " Oh, beg pardon, sir ! " exclaimed she ; " beg pardon," continued she, clasping her hands; "I'll never do so again, sir; no, sir, I'll never do so again, indeed I wonHy She had just stolen a shape of blanc-mange, and thought she was caught. " Then show me where I'll find pen and ink and paper," replied our friend. " Oh, sir, I don't know nothing about them," replied the girl; indeed^ sir, / donH ; " thinking it was some other petty larceny he was inquiring about. " Well, but you can tell me where to find a sheet of paper, sure- ly ? " rejoined he. " Oh, indeed, sir, I carCi^'' replied she ; " I know nothin' about nothin' of the sort." Servants never do. " What sort ? " asked Mr. Sponge, wondering at her vehemence. " Well, sir, about what you said," sobbed the girl, applying the corner of her dirty apron to her eyes. " Hang it, the girl's mad," rejoined our friend, brushing by, and making for the passage beyond. This brought him past the still room, the steward's room, the housekeeper's room, and the butler's pantry. All were in most glorious confusion ; in the latter. Captain Cutitfat's lacquer-toed, lavender-coloured dress-boots were reposing in the silver soup-tureen, and Captain Bounccy's varnished pumps were stuffed into a wine-cooler. The last detachment of empty bot- tles stood or lay about the floor, commingling with boot-jacks, knife- trays, bath-bricks, coat-brushes, candle-end boxes, plates, lanterns, lamp-glasses, oil bottles, corkscrews, wine-strainers — the usual mis- cellaneous appendages of a butler's pantry. All was still and quiet; not a sound, save the loud ticking of a time-piece, or the occasional creak of a jarring door, disturbed the solemn silence of the house. A nimble-handed mugger or tramp might have carried off whatever he liked. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 353 Passing ODward, Mr. Sponge came to a red-baized, brass-nailed door, -which, opening freely on a patent-spring, revealed the fine proportions of a light picture-gallery with which the bright mahoga- ny doors of the entertaining rooms communicated. Opening the first door he came to, our friend found himself in the elegant draw- ing-room, on whose round bird's-eye maple table, in the centre, were huddled all the unequal-lengthed candles of the previous night's illumination. It was a handsome apartment, fitted up in the most costly style ; with rose-colour brocaded satin damask, the curtains trimmed with silk tassel fringe, and ornamented with massive bullion tassels on cornices, Cupids supporting wreaths under an arch, with open carved-work and eni-ichments in burnished gold. The room, save the muster of the candles, was just as it had been left; and the richly gilt sofa still retained the indentations of the sitters, with the luxurious down pillows, left as they had been supporting their backs. The room reeked of tobacco, and the ends and ashes of cigars dotted the tables and white marble chimney-piece, and the gilt slabs and the finely-flowered Tournay carpet, just as the fires of gipsies dot and disfigure the fair face of a country. Costly china and nick- nacks of all sorts were scattered about in profusion. Altogether, it was a beautiful room. " Xo want of money here," said Mr. Sponge to himself, as he eyed it, and thought what havoc Gustavus James would make among the ornaments if he had a chance. He then looked about for pen, ink, and paper. These were dis- tributed so wide apart as to show the little request they were in. Having at length succeeded in getting what he wanted gathered to- gether, Mr. Sponge sat down on the luxurious sofa, considering how he should address his host, as he hoped. Mr. Sponge was not a shy man, but, considering the circumstances under which he made Sir Harry Scattercash's acquaintance, together with his design upon his hospitality — above all, considering the crew by whom Sir Harry was surrounded — it required some little tact to pave the way without raising the present inmates of the house against him. There are no people so anxious to protect others from robbery as those who are robbing them themselves. Mr. Sponge thought, and thought, and thought. At last he resolved to write on the subject of the hounds. After sundry attempts on pink, blue, and green-tinted paper, he at last succeeded in hitting ofi" the following, on yellow : — "Nonsuch House. " Dear Sir Harry, — I rode over this morning, hearing you were to hunt, and am sorry to find you indisposed. I wish you would drop me a line to Mr. Crowdey's, Puddiugpote Bower, saying when next you go out, as I should much like to have another look at your 354 MR. sponge's sporting tour. splendid pack, before I leave this country, whicli I fear will have to be soon. Yours in haste, " H. Sponge. " P.S. — I hope you all got safe home the other night from Mr Peastraw's." Having put this into a richly gilt and embossed envelope, our friend directed it conspicuously to Sir Harry Scattercash, Bart., and stuck it in the centre of the mantel-piece. He then retraced his steps through the back regions, informing the sleeping beauty he had before disturbed, and who was now busy scouring a pan, that he had left a letter in the drawing-room for Sir Harry, and if she would see that he got it, he (Mr. Sponge) would remember her the next time he came, which he inwardly hoped would be soon. He then made for the stable, and got his horse, to go h'ome, sauntering more leisure- ly along than one would expect of a man who had not got his break- fast, especially one riding a hack hunter. The truth was, Mr. Sponge did not much like the aspect of af- fairs. Sir Harry's was evidently a desperately " fast " house ,• added to which, the guests by whom he was surrounded, were clearly of the wide-awake order, who could not spare any pickings for a strauger. Indeed, Mr. Sponge felt that they rather cold-shouldered him at Farmer Peastraw's, and were in a greater hurry to be oif when the drag came, than the mere difference between inside and outside seats required. He much questioned whether he got into Sir Harry's at all. If it came to a vote he thought he should not. Then, what was he to do? Old Jog was clearly tired of him; and he had nowhere else to go to. The thought made him stick spurs into the chestnut, and hurry home to Puddingpote Bower, where he endeavored to soothe his host by more than insinuating that he was going on a visit to Nonsuch House. Jog inwardly prayed that he might. CHAPTEK LVII. THE DEBATE. It was just as Mr. Sponge predicted with regard to his admission to Nonsuch House. The first person who spied his note to Sir Harry Scattercash, was Capt. Seedeybuck, who, going into the drawing- room the day after Mr. Sponge's visit to look for the top of liis cigar case, saw it occupying the centre of the mantel-piece. Having mas- tered its contents, the captain refolded and placed it where he MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 355 found it, with the simple observation to himself of — " that cock won't fight." Captain Quod saw it next, then Captain Bouncey, who told Captain Cutitfat what was in it, who agreed with Boimcey that it wouldn't do to haA'e Mr. Sponge there. Indeed, it seemed agreed on all hands that their party rather wanted weeding than increasing. Thus, in due time, everybody in the house knew the contents of the note save Sir Harry, though none of them thought worth while telling him of it. On the third morning, however, as the party were assembling for breakfast, he came into the room reading it. " This (hiccup) note ought to have been delivered before," ob- served he, holding it up. " Indeed, my dear," replied Lady Scattercash, who was sitting gloriously fine and very beautiful at the head of the table, " I don't know anything about it." " Who is it from ? " asked brother Bob Spangles. " Mr. (hiccup) Sponge," replied Sir Harry. " What a name ! " exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck. " Who is he ? " asked Captain Quod. " Don't know," replied Sir Harry ; " he writes to (hiccup) about the hounds." " Oh, it'll be that brown-booted buffer," observed Captain Boun- cey, " that we left at old Peastraw's." " No doubt," assented Captain Cutitfat ; adding, " what business has he with the hounds ? " " He wants to know when we are going to (hiccup) again," ob- served Sir Harry. " Does he ? " replied Captain Seedybuck. " That, I suppose, will depend upon Watchorn." The party now got settled to breakfast, and as soon as the first burst of appetite was appeased, the conversation again turned upon our friend Mr. Sponge. " Who is this Mr. Sponge ? " asked Captain Bouncey, the bil- liard-marker, with the air of a thorough exclusive. Nobody answered. " Who's your friend ? " asked he of Sir Harry direct. " Don't know," replied Sir Harry, from between the mouthfuls of a highly cayenned grill. " P'raps a bolting betting-office keeper," suggested Captain Lad- ofwax, who hated Captain Bouncey. " He looks more like a glazier, I think," retorted Captain Boun- cey, with a look of defiance at the speaker. " Lucky if he is one," retorted Captain Ladofwax, reddening up to the eyes ; " he may have a chance of repairing somebody's daylights." The captain raising his saucer, to discharge it at his opponent's head. 356 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Gently with the cheney ! " exclaimed Lady Scattercash, who was too mucli used to such scenes to care about the belligerents. Bob Spangles caught Ladofwax's arm at the nick of time, and saved the saucer. j " Hout ! ybu (hiccup) fellows are always (hiccup)ing," exclaimed Sir Harry. " I declare I'll have you both (hiccup)ed over to keep the peace," They then broke out into wordy recrimination and abuse, each declaring that he wouldn't stay a day longer in the house if the other remained ; but as they had often said so before, and still gave no symptoms of going, their assertion produced little effect upon any- body. Sir Harry would not have cared if all his guests had gone together. Peace and order being at length restored, the conversation again turned upon Mr. Sponge. " I suppose we must have another (hiccup) hunt soon," observed Sir Harry. "In course," replied Bob Spangles; "it's no use keeping the hungry brutes unless you work them." " You'll have a bagman, I presume," observed Captain Seedeybuck, who did not like the trouble of travelling about the country to draw for a fox. " Oh, yes," replied Sir Harry ; " Watchorn will manage all that. He's always (hiccup) in that line. We'd better have a hunt soon, and then Mr. (hiccup) Bugles, you can see it." Sir Harry addressing him- self to a gentleman he was as anxious to get rid of as Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey was to get rid of Mr. Sponge. " No ; Mr. Bugles won't go out any more," replied Lady Scatter- cash, peremptorily. " He was nearly killed last time ; " her lady- ship casting an angry glance at her husband, and a very loving one on the object of her solicitude. " Oh, nought's never in danger ! " observed Bob Spangles. " Then you can go, Bob," snapped his sister. " I intend," replied Bob. " Then (hiccup), gentlemen, I think I'll just write this Mr. (hiccup) What's-his-name to (hiccup) over here," observed Sir Harry, " and then he'll be ready for the (hiccup) hunt whenever we choose to (hiccup) one." The proposition fell still-born among the party. " Don't you think we can do without him ? " at last suggested Captain Seedeybuck. " I think so," observed the elder Spangles, without looking up from his plate. " Who is it ? " asked Lady Scattercash. " The man that was here the other morning — the man in the queer chestnut-coloured boots," replied Mr. Orlaudo Bugles. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. - 357 " Oh, I think he's rather good-lookiug ; I vote we have him," replied her ladyship. That was rather a damper for Sir Harry ; but upon reflection, he thought he could not be worse off with Mr. Sponge and Mr. Bugles than he was with Mr. Bugles alone ; so, having finished a poor ap- petiteless breakfast, he repaired to what he called his " study," and with a feeble, shaky hand, scrawled an invitation to Mr. Sponge to come over to Jsonsuch House, and take his chance of a run with his hounds. He then sealed and posted the letter without further to-do. CHAPTER LVIII. FACET ROMFORD. Four days had now elapsed since Mr. Sponge penned his overture to Sir Harry, and each succeeding day satisfied him more of the utter impossibility of holding on much longer in his then billet at Puddingpote Bower. Not only was Jog coarse and incessant in his hints to him to be off, but Jawleyford-like he had lowered the standard of entertainment so greatly, that if it hadn't been that Mr. Sponge had his servant and horses kept also, he might as well have been living at his own expense. The company lights were all extin- guished ; great, strong-smelling, cauliflower-headed moulds, that were always wanting snufling, usurped the place of Belmont wax ; napkins were withdrawn ; second-hand table-cloths introduced ; marsala did duty for sherry ; and the stick -jaw pudding assumed a consistency that was almost incompatible with articulation. In the course of this time Sponge wrote to Puffington, saying, if he was better he would return and finish his visit ; but the wary Puff sent a messenger off express with a note, lamenting that he was ordered to Handley Cross for his health, but " pop'lar man" like, hoping that the pleasure of Sponge's company was only deferred for another season. Jawleyford even Sponge thought hopeless ; and, altogether, he was very much perplexed. He had made a little money, certainly, with his horses ; but a permanent investment of his elegant person, such as he had long been on the look out for, seemed as far off as ever. On the afternoon of the fifth day, as he was taking a solitary stroll about the country, having about made up his mind to be off to town, just as he was crossing Jog's buttercup meadow on his way to the stable, a rapid hang ! hang ! caused him to start, and, looking over the hedge, he saw a brawny-looking sportsman in brown, ■368 MR. sponge's sporting tour, reloading his gun, with a brace of liver and white setters crouching like statues in the stubble. " Seek dead ! " presently said the shooter, with a slight wave of his hand ; and in an instant each dog was picking up his bird. " I'll have a word with you," said Sponge, " on and oflF-ing " the hedge, his beat causing the shooter to start and look as if inclined for a run ; second thoughts said Sponge was too near, and he'd better brave it. " What sport? " asked Sponge, striding towards him. " Oh, pretty middling," replied the shooter, a great red-headed, freckley-faced fellow, with backward-lying whiskers, crowned in a drab rustic. " Oh, pretty middling," repeated he, not knowing whether to act on the friendly or defensive. " Fine day ! " said Sponge, eyeing his fox-maskey whiskers and stout, muscular frame. " It is," replied the shooter ; adding, " Just followed my birds over the boundary. No 'fence, I s'pose — no 'fence." " Oh, no," said Mr. Sponge. " Jog, I des-say, '11 be very glad to see you." " Oh, you'll be Mr. Sponge ? " observed the stranger, jumping to a conclusion. " I am," replied our hero ; adding, " May I ask who I have the honour of addressing ? " " My name's Romford — Charley Romford ; every body knows me. Very glad to make your 'quaintance," tendering Sponge a great, rough, heavy hand. " I was goin' to call upon you," observed the stranger, as he ceased swinging Sponge's arm to and fro like a pump- handle ; " I was goin' to call upon you, to see if you'd come over to Washingforde, and have some shootin' at me Oncle's — oncle Gilroy's at Queercove Hill." " Most happy ! " exclaimed Sponge, thinking it was the very thing he wanted. " Get a day with the harriers, too, if you like," continued the shooter, increasing the temptation. " Better still ! " thought Sponge. " I've only bachelor 'commodation to offer you ; but p'raps you'll not mind roughing it a bit ? " observed Romford. " Oh, faith, not I ! " replied Sponge, thinking of the luxuries of Puffington's bachelor habitation. " What sort of stables have you ? " asked our friend. " Capital stables — excellent stables ! " replied the shooter ; "stalls six feet in the clear, by twelve dip (deep), iron racks, oak stall-posts covered with zinc, beautiful oats, capital beans, splendacious hay — won without a shower ! " " Bravo 1 " exclaimed Sponge, thinking he had lit on his legs, and MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 369 might snap his fingers at Jog and his hints. He'd take the high hand, and give Jog up. " Pm your man ! " said Sponge, in high glee. " When will you come ?" asked Romford. " To-morrow ! " replied Sponge, firmly. " So be it," rejoined his proffered host ; and, with another hearty swing of the arm, the newly-made friends parted. Charley Romford, or Facey, as he was commonly called, from his being the admitted most impudent man in the country, was a great, round-faced, coarse-featured, prize-fighting sort of fellow, who lived chiefly by his wits, which he exercised in all the legitimate lines of industry — poaching, betting, boxing, horse-dealing, cards, quoits — anything that came uppermost. That he was a man of en- terprise, we need hardly add, when he had formed a scheme for doing our Sponge — a man that we do not think any of our readers would trouble themselves to try a " plant "upon. This impudent Facey, as if in contradiction of terms, was origin ally intended for a civil engineer ; but having early in life voted himself heir to his uncle, Mr. Gilroy, of Queercove Hill, a great cattle-jobber, with a " small independence of his own " — three hun- dred a year, perhaps, which a kind world called six — Facey thought he would just hang about until liis uncle was done with his shoes, and then be lord of Queercove Hill. Now, " me Oncle Gilroy," of whom Facey was constantly talking, had a left-handed wife and promising family in the sylvan retirement of St. John's Wood, whither he used to retire after his business in " Smi'fiel' " was over ; so that Facey, for once, was out in his calcu- lations. Gilroy, however, being as knowing as " his ncvvy," as he called him, just encouraged Facey in his shooting, fishing, and idle propen.sities generally, doubtless finding it more convenient to have his fish and game for nothing than to pay for them. Facey, having the apparently inexhaustible sum of a thousand pounds, began life as a fox-hunter — in a very small way to be sure — more for the purpose of selling horses than anything else; but, having succeeded in " doing " all the do-able gentlemen, both with the " Tip and Go " and Cranerfield hounds, his occupation was gone, it requiring an extended field — such as our friend Sponge roamed — to carry on cheating in horses for any length of time. Facey was soon blown, his name in connection with a horse being enough to prevent any one looking at him. Indeed, we question that there is any less desirable mode of making, or trying to make money, than by cheating or even dealing in horses. Many people fancy themselves cheated, whatever they get ; while the man who is really cheated never forgets it, and proclaims it to the end of time. Moreover, no one can go on cheat- ing in horses for any length of time, without putting himself in the power of his groom ; and let those who have seen Jiow servants lord 360 MR. sponge's sporting tour. it over each other say how they would like to subject themselves to similar treatment. — But to our story. Facey Romford had now a splendid milk-white horse, well-known in Mr. Nobbington's and Lord Leader's hunts as Mr. Hobler, but who Facey kindly christened the " Nonpareil," which the now rising price of oats, and falling state of his finances, made him particularly anxious to get rid of, ere the horse performed the equestrian feat of "eating its head off." He was a very hunter-like looking horse, but his misfortune consisted in having such shocking seedy toes that he couldn't keep his shoes on. If he got through the first field with them on, they^^^yere sure to be off at the fence. This horse Facey voted to be the very thing for Mr. Sponge, and hearing that he had come into the country to hunt, it occurred to him that it would be a capital thing if he could get him to take Mother Overend's spare bed and lodge with him, twelve shillings a-week being more than Facey liked paying for his room's. Not thait he paid twelve shillings for the rooms alone ; on the contrary, he had a two-stalled stable, with a sort of kennel for his pointers, and a sty for his pig into the bargain. This pig, which was eaten many times in anticipation, had at length fallen a victim to the butcher, and Facey's larder was un- commonly well found in black-puddings, sausages, spareribs, and the other component parts of a pig : so that he was in very hospitable circimistances, — at least, in his rough and ready idea of what hosj)i- tality ought to be. Indeed, whether he had or not, he'd have risked it, being quite as good at carrying things off with a high hand as Mr. Sponge himself. The invitation came most opportunely ; for, worn out with jealousy and watching, Jog had made up his mind to cut to Australia, and when Sponge returned after meeting Facey, Jog was in the act of combing out an advertisement, offering all that desirable sport- ing residence called Puddingpote Bower, with the coach-hotise, stables, and ofiices thereunto belonging, to let, and announcing that the whole of the valuable household furniture, comprising mahogany, dining, loo, card, and Pembroke tables; sofa, couch, and chairs in hair seat- ing ; cheffoiiier, with plate glass ; book-case ; flower-stands ; piano- forte, by Collard and Collard ; music stool and Canterbury ; chimney and pier-glasses ; mirror ; ormolu time-piece ; alabaster and wax figures and shades ; China ; Brussels carpets and rugs ; fenders and fire-irons ; curtains and cornices ; Venetian blinds ; mahogany four- post, French, and camp bedsteads ; feather beds ; hair mattresses ; mahogany chests of drawers ; dressing-glasses ; wash and dressing- tables ; patent shower bath ; bed and table-linen ; dinner and tea- ware ; warming-pans, &c., would be exposed to immediate and unre- served sale. How gratefully Sponge's inquiry if he knew Mr. Romford fell on his ear, as they sat moodily together after dinner over some very low- priced Port. ME. sponge's sporting TOUR. 861 " Oh, yes (puff) — oh, yes (wheeze) — oh, yes (gasp) ! Know Char- ley Komford — Facey^ as they call him. He's (puff, wheeze, gasp), heir to old IMr. Gilroy, of Queercove Hill." " Just so," rejoined Sponge, — "just so ; that's the man, — stout, squai'e-built fellow, with backward-growing whiskers. I'm going to stay with him to shoot at old Gil's. Where does Charley live ? " " Live ! " exclaimed Jog, almost choked with delight at the in- formation ; " live ! live ! " repeated he, for the third time ; " lives at (puff, wheeze, gasp, cough), Washingforde — yes, at Washingforde ; 'bout ten miles from (puff", wheeze) here. When d^ye go ? " " To-morrow," replied Sponge, with an air of offended dignity. Jog was so rejoiced that he could hardly sit on his chair. Mrs. Jog, when she heard of it felt that Gustavus James's chance of independence was gone ; for well she knew that Jog would never let Sponge come back to the Bower. We need scarcely say that Jog was up betimes in the morning, most anxious to forward Mr. Sponge's departure. He offered to al- low Bartholomew to convey him and his '• traps " in the phaeton — an offer that Mr. Sponge availed himself of as far as his "traps " were concerned, though he preferred cantering over on his piebald to trail- ing along in Jog's jingling chay. So matters were arranged, and Mr. Sponge forthwith proceeded to put his brown boots, his substantial cords, his superfine tights, his cuttey scarlet, his drei^s blue saxony, his clean linen, his heavy spurs, and though last, not least in import- ance, his now backless " Mogg," into his solid leather portmanteau, sweeping the surplus of his wardrobe into a capacious carpet-bag. While the guest was thus busy up-stairs, the host wandered about reslessly, now stirring up this person, now hurrying that, in the full enjoyment of the much-coveted departure. His pleasure was, per- haps, rather damped by a running commentary he overheard through the lattice-window of the stable, from Leather, as he stripped his horses and tried to roll up their clothing in a moderate compass. " Ord rot your great carcass ! " exclaimed he, giving the roll a hearty kick in its bulging-out stomach, on finding that he had not got it as small as he wanted. " Ord rot your great carcass," repeated he, scratching his head and eyeing it as it lay ; " this is all the conse- quence of your nasty brewers' hapron weshins, — blowin' of one out, like a bladder ! " and, thereupon, he placed his hand on his stomach to feel how his own was. " Never see'd sich a house, or sich an o.tvful mean man ! " continued he, stooping and pommelling the package with his fists. It was of no use, he could not get it as small as he wished — " Must have my jacket out on you I do believe," added he, seeing where the impediment was ; " sticks in your gizzard just like a lump of old Puff-and-blow's puddin' ; " and then he thrust his hand into the folds of the clothing, and pulled out the greasy garment. " Now," said he, stooping again, " I think we may manish yo ; " and IS 362 MR. sponge's sporting tour. he took the roll in his arms and hoisted it on to Hercules, whom he meant to make the led horse, observing aloud, as he adjusted it on the saddle, and whacked it well with his hands to make it lie right, " I wish it was old Jog — wouldn't I sarve him out ! " He then turned his horses round in their stalls, tucked his greasy jacket under the flap of the saddle-bags, took his ash-stick from the crook, and led them out of the capacious door. Jog looked at him with mingled feelings of disgust and delight. Leather just gave his old hat fiipe a rap with his forefinger as he passed with the horses — a salute that Jog did not condescend to return. Having eyed the receding horses with great satisfaction, Jog re- entered the house by the kitchens, to have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Sponge oflF. He found the portmanteau and carpet-bag standing in the passage ; and just at the moment the sound of the phaeton wheels fell on his ear, as Bartholomew drove round from the coach-house to the door. Mr. Sponge was already in the parlour, making his adieus to Mrs. Jog and the children, who were all assembled for the purpose. '' What, are you goin' ? " (puff) asked Jog, with an air of surprise. " Yes," replied Mr. Sponge ; adding, as he tendered his hand, " the best friends must part, you know." " Well (puff), but you'd better have your (wheeze) horse round," observed Jog, anxious to avoid any overture for a return. " Thankee," replied Mr. Sponge, making a parting bow ; '• I'll get him at the stable." " I'll go with you," said Jog, leading the way. Leather had saddled, and bridled, and turned him round in the stall, with one of Mr. Jog's blanket-rugs on, which Mr. Sponge just swept over his tail into the manger, and led the horse out. '■ Adieu ! " said he, offering his hand to his host. " Good-bye ! — good (puff) sport to you," said Jog, shaking it heartily. Mr. Sponge then mounted his hack, and cocking out his toe, rode off at a canter. At the same moment Bartholomew drove away from the front door ; and Jog, having stood Avatching the phaeton over the rise of Pennvpound Hill, scraped his feet, re-entered his house, and rubbing them "heartily on the mat as he closed the sash-door, observed aloud to himself, with a jerk of his head — " Well, now, that's the most (puff) impittent feller I ever saw in my life ! Catch me (gasp) godpapa-hunting again." JLR. SPOKGe's sporting TOUR. 363 CHAPTER LIX. THE ADJOURNED DEBATE. The fatal invitation of Mr. Sponge having been sent, tlie question that now occupied the minds of the assembled sharpers at Nonsuch House, was whether he was a " pigeon," or one of themselves. That point occupied their very deep and serious consideration. If he was a " pigeon," they could clearly accommodate him, but if, on the other hand, he was one of themselves, it was painfully apparent that there were far too many of them there already. Of course the subject was not discussed in full and open conclave — they were all highly honourable men in the gross — and it was only in the small and secret groups of those accustomed to hunt together, and unburden their minds, that the real truth was elicited. " What an ass Sir Harry is, to ask this Mr. Sponge," observed Captain Quod to Captain Seedeybuck, as (cigar in mouth) they paced backwards and forwards under the flagged verandah on the west side of the house, on the morning that Sir Harry had announced his in- tention of asking him. " Confounded ass," assented Seedeybuck, from between the whiflfs of his cigar. " Dash it ! one would think he had more money than he knew what to do with," observed the first speaker, " instead of not knowing where to lay hands on a halfpenny." " Soon be icho-hoop here," observed Quod, with a shake of the head. " Fear so," replied Seedeybuck. " Have you heard anything fresh ? " " Nothing particular. The County Court bailiff was here with some summonses, which, of course, he put in the fire." " Ah ! that's what he always docs. He got tired of papering the smoking-room with them," replied Seedeybuck. " Well, it's a pity," observed Quod, spitting as he spoke ; " but what can you expect, eaten up as he is by such a sot of rubbish ? " " Shockin'," replied Seedeybuck, thinking how long he and his friend might have fattened there together. " Do you know anything of this Mr. Sponge ? " asked Captain Quod, after a pause. " Nothin'," replied Seedeybuck, " except what we saw of him here : but I'm nure he won't do." 364 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Well, I think not either," replied Quod ; " I didn't like his looks — he seems quite one of the free-and easy sort." " Quite," observed Seedeybuck, determined to make a set against him, instead of cultivating his acquaintance. " This Mr. Sponge won't be any great addition to our party, I think," muttered Captain Bouncey to Captain Cutitfat, as they stood within the bay of the library window, in apparent contemplation of the cows, but in reality conning the Sponge matter over in their minds. " I think not," replied Captain Cutitfat, with an emphasis. " Wonder what made Sir Harry ask him ! " whispered Bouncey, adding, aloud, for the bystanders to hear, — " That's a fine cow, isn't it ? " " Very," replied Cutitfat in the same key, adding, in a whisper, with a shrug of his shoulders ; " wonder what made him ask half the people that are here ! " " The black and white one isn't a bad un," observed Bouncey, nodding his head towards the cows, adding in an under tone ; " most of them asked themselves, I should think." " Admiring the cows, Captain Bouncey ? " asked the beautiful and tolerably virtuous Miss Glitters, of the Astley's Koyal Amphi- theatre, who had come down to spend a few days with her old friend, Lady Scattercash. " Admiring the cows. Captain Bouncey ? " asked she, sidling her elegant figure between our friends in the bay. " We were just saying how nice it would be to have two or three pretty girls, and a sillabub, under those cedars," replied Captain Bouncey. " Oh, charming ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters, her dark eyes spark- ling as she spoke. " Harriet ! " exclaimed she, addressing herself to a young lady, who called herself Howard, but whose real name was Brown — Jane Brown. — " Harriet ! " exclaimed she, " Captain Boun- cey is going to give tifcte champ'ctre under those lovely cedars." " Oh, how nice ! " exclaimed Harriet, clapping her hands in ecsta- sies — theatrical ecstasies at least. " It must be Sir Harry," replied the billiard-table man, not fancy- ing being " let in " for anything. " Oh ! Sir Harry will let us have anything we like, I'm sure," rejoined Miss Glitters. " What is it (hiccup) ? " asked Sir Harry, who, hearing his name, now joined the party. " Oh, we want you to give us a dance under those charming cedars," replied the lady, looking lovingly at him. " Cedars ! " hiceupcd Sir Harry, " where do you see any cedars ?" " Why there," replied Miss Glitters, nodding towards a clump of evergreens. " Those pre (hiccup) hollies," replied Sir Harry. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 365 " Well, under the hollies," rejoined Miss Glitters; adding, "it was Captain Bouncey who said they were cedars." " Ah, I meant those beyond," observed the captain, nodding in another direction. " Those are (hiccup) Scotch firs," rejoined Sir Harry. " Well, never mind what they are," resumed the lady ; " let us have a dance under them." " Certainly," replied Sir Harry, who was always ready for any- thing. '' We shall have plenty of partners," observed Miss Howard, recollecting how many men there were in the house. " And another coming," observed Captain Cutitfat, still fretting at the idea. " Indeed ! " exclaimed Miss Howard, raising her hands and eye- brows in delight ; " and who is he ? " asked she, with unfeigned glee. " Oh such a (hiccup) swell," replied Sir Harry ; " reg'lar Leices- tershire man. A (hiccup) Quornite in fact." " We'll not have the dance till he comes, then," observed Miss Glitters. " No more we will," said Miss Howard, withdrawing from the group. CHAPTER LX. FACEY ROMFORD AT HOME. We will now suppose our distinguished Sponge entering the village, or what the natives call the town of Washingforde, towards the close of a short December day, on his arrival from Mr. Jog's. " What sort of stables are there ? " asked he, reining up his hack, as he encountered the brandy-nosed Leather airing himself on the main street. " Stables be good enough — forage, too," replied the stud groom, — "j»er-wided you likes the sittivation." " Oh, the sittivation '11 be good enough," retorted Sponge, think- ing that, groom-like. Leather was grumbling because he hadn't got the best stables. " Well, sir, as you please," replied the man, " Why, where are they ? " asked Sponge, seeing there was more in Leather's manner than met the eye. " Bose and Croivn ! " replied Leather, with an emphasis. " Rose and Grown ! " exclaimed Sponge, starting in his sad- dle ; " Rose and Crown ! Why, I am going to stay with Mr. Rom- ford ! » 366 MR. sponge's spokting toub. " So he said," replied Leather; " so he said. I met him as I com'd in with the osses, and said he to me, said he, ' You'll find captle quarters at the Crown ! ' " " The deuce ! exclaimed Mr. Sponge, dropping the reins on his hack's neck; '■'■ ihe dewce.'' " repeated he, with a look of disgust. " Why, where does he live ? " " 'Bove the saddler's, thonder," replied Leather, nodding to a small bow-windowed white house a little lower down, with the gilt- lettered words : — ' OVEEEND, S.VDDLER AND HARXESS-3IAKER TO THE QUEEN, above a very meagrely stocked shop. " The devil J " replied Mr. Sponge, boiling up as he eyed the cottage-like dimensions of the place. The dialogue was interrupted by a sledge-hammer-like blow on Sponge's back, followed by such a proffered hand as could proceed from none but his host. " Glad to see ye ! " exclaimed Facey, swinging Sponge's arm to and fro. " Get off ! " continued he, half dragging him down, " and let's go in ; for it's beastly cold, and dinner '11 be ready in no time!" So saying, he led the captive Sponge down street, like a prisoner, by the arm, and, opening the thin house-door, pushed him up a very straight staircase into a little low cabin-like room, hung with boxing- gloves, foils, and pictures of fighters and ballet-girls. " Glad to see ye ! " again said Facey, jjokiug the diminutive fire. " Axed Nosey Nickel and Gutty Weazel to meet you," continued he, looking at the little " dinner-for-two " table ; but Nosey's gone wrong in a tooth, and Gutty's away sweetheartin'. However, we'll be very cozey and jolly together, and if you want to wash your hands, or anything afore dinner, I'll show you your bedroom," continued he, backing Sponge across the staircase landing to where a couple of lit- tle black doors opened into rooms, formed by dividing what had been the duplicate of a sitting-room into two. " There ! " exclaimed Facey, pointing to Sponge's portmanteau and bag, standing midway between the window and door ; — " There ! there are your traps. Yonder's the washhand-stand. You can put your shavin '-things on the chair below the lookin'-glass 'gainst the wall," pointing to a fragment of glass nailed against the stencilled wall, all of which Sponge stood eyeing with a mingled air of resig- nation and contempt ; but when Facey pointed to — " The chest, contrived a double debt to pay — A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; " MR. sponge's spouting toue. 367 and said that was where Sponge would have to curl himself up, our friend shook his head, and declared he could not. " Oh, fiddle ! " replied Facey, Jack Weatherley slept in it for months, and he's half a hand higher than you — sixteen hands, if he's an inch." And Sponge jerked his head, and bit his lips, thinking he was " done " for once. " W-h-o-y, ar thought you'd been a fox-hunter," observed Facey, seeing his guest's disconcerted look. " Well, but bein' a fox-hunter won't enable one to sleep in a band-box, or to shut one's-self up like a telescope," retorted the in- dignant Sponge. " Ord hang it, man ! you're so nasty partickler," rejoined Facey; " your 're so nasty partickler. You'll never do to go out duck-shoot- in' i' your shirt. Dash it, man ! Oncle Gilroy would disinherit me if ar was such a chap. " However, look sharp," continued he, " if you are goin' to clean yourself ; for dinner'll be ready in no time, indeed, I hear Mrs. End dishin' it up." So saying, Facey rolled out of the room, and Sponge presently heard him pulling off his clogs of shoes in the adjoining one. Dinner spoke for itself, for the house reeked with the smell of fried onions and roast pork. Now, Sponge didn't like pork ; and there was nothing but pork, or pig in one shape or another. Spare-ribs, liver and bacon, sausages, black puddings, &c., — all very good in their way, but which came with a bad grace after the comforts of Jog's, the elegance of Puffington's, and the early splendour of Jawleyford's. Our hero was a good deal put out, and felt as if he was imposed upon. What business had a man like this to ask him to stay with him — a man who dined by daylight, and ladled his meat with a great two-pronged fork? Facey, though he saw Mr. Sponge wasn't pleased, praised and pressed everything in succession down to a very strong cheese ; and as the slip-shod girl whisked away crumbs and all in the coarse table-cloth, he exclaimed with a most open-hearted air, " Well, now, what shall we have to drink," adding, " You smoke, of course — shall it be gin, rum or Hollands — Hollands, rum, or gin ? " Sponge was half inclined to propose wine, but recollecting what sloe-juice sort of stuff it was sure to be, and that Facey, in all pro- bability, would make him finish it, he just replied, " Oli, I don't care ; 'spose we say gin 1 " " Gin be it," said Facey, rising from his scat, and making for a little closet in tlic wall, he produced a bottle labelled " Fine London Spirit ; " and hallooing to the girl to get a few " Captius' " out of the box under his bed, he scattered a lot of glasses about the table, and placed a green dessert-dish for the biscuits against they came. 368 MK. spokge's sporting todr. Night had now closed in — a keen, boisterous, wintry night, making the pocketful of coals that ornamented the grate peculiarly acceptable. " B-o-y Jove, what a night ! " exclaimed Facey, as a blash of sleet dashed across the window, as if some one had thrown a hand- full of pebbles against it. " B-o-y Jove, what a night ! " repeated he, rising and closing the shutters, and letting down the little scanty red curtain. " Let us draw in and have a hot brew," continued he, stirring the fire under the kettle, and handing a lot of cigars out of the table-drawer. They then sat smoking and sipping, and smok- ing and sipping, each making a mental estimate of the other. " Shall we have a game at cards ? or what shall we do to pass the evenin' ? " at length asked our host, " Better have a game at cards, p'raps," continued he. " Thank'ee, no ; thankee, no. I've a book in my pocket," replied Sponge, diving into his jacket-pocket ; adding, as he fished up his Mogg, " always carry a book of light reading about with me." " What, you're a literary cove, are you ? " asked Facey, in a tone of surprise. " Not exactly that," replied Sponge; " but I like to improve my mind." He then opened the valuable work, taking a dip into the Omnibus Guide — " Brentford, 7 from Hyde Park Corner — European Cofi'ee House, near the Bank, daily," and so worked his way on through the " Brighton Railway Station, Brixton, Bromley both in Kent and Middlesex, Bushey Heath, Camberwell, Camden Town, and Carshalton," right into Cheam, when Facey, who had been eye- ing him intently, not at all relishing his style of proceeding, and wishing to be doing, suddenly exclaimed, as he darted up — " B-o-y Jove ! You've not heard me play the flute ! No more you have. Dash it, how remiss ! " continued he, making for the lit- tle book-shelf on which it lay ; adding, as he blew into it and sucked the joints, " you're musical, of course ? " " Oh, I can stand music," muttered Sponge, with a jerk of his head, as if a tune was neither here nor there with him. " By Jingo ! you should see me Oncle Gilroy when a'rm playin' ! The old man act'ly sheds tears of delight — he's so pleased." " Indeed," replied Sponge, now passing on into Mogg's Cab Fares — " Aldersgate Street, Hare Court, to or from Bagnigge- Wells," and so on, when Facey struck up the most squeaking, dis- cordant, broken-winded " Jump Jim Crow," that was ever heard, making the sensitive Sponge shudder, and set- ting all his teeth on edge. " Hang me, but that flute of yours wants nitre, or a dose of MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 369 physic, or something most dreadful ! " at length exclaimed he, squeezing up his face as if in the greatest agony, as the la- boured — '* Jump about and wheel about " completely threw Sponge over in his calculation as to what he could ride from Aldgate Pump to the Pied Bull at Islington for. " Oh, no ! " replied Facey, with an air of indiliereuce, as he took oflf the end and jerked out the steam. " Oh, no — only wants work — — only wants work," added he, putting it together again, ex- claiming, as he looked at the now sulky Sponse, " AYhat shall it be?" " Whatever you please," replied our friend, dipping frantically into his Mogg. " Well, then, I'll play you me oncle's favourite tune, ' The Merry Swiss Boy,' " whereupon Facey set to most vigorously with that once most popular air. It, however, came oflf as rustily as •' Jim Crow," for' whose feats Facey evidently had a partiality ; for no sooner did he get squeaked through " me oncle's " tune than he returned to the nigger melody with redoubled zeal, and pufied and blew Sponge's calculations as to what he could ride from " Mother Redcap's " at Camden Town down Liquorpond Street, up Snow Hill, and so on, to the " Angel " in Ratcliffe Highway for, clean out of his head. Nor did there seem any prospect of relief, for no sooner did Facey get through one tune than he at the other again. " Hot it ! " at length exclaimed Sponge, throwing his " Mogg " from him in despair, " you'll deafen me with that abominable noise." " Bless my heart ! " exclaimed Facey, in well-feigned surprise, "Bless my heart! AVhy, I thought you liked music, my dear feller; " adding, " I was playin' to please you." " The deuce you were ! " snapped Mr. Sponge, " I wish I'd known sooner : I'd have saved you a deal of wind." " Why, my dear feller," replied Facey, " I wished to entertain you the best in my power. One must do somethin', you know." " I'd rather do anything than undergo that horrid noise," replied Sponge, ringing his left ear with his fore-finger. " Let's have a game at cards, then," rejoined Facey, soothingly, seeing he had suflSciently agonised Sponge. " Cards," replied Mr. Sponge. " Cards," repeated he, thought- fully, stroking his hairy chin. " Cards," added lie, for the third time, as he conned Facey's rotund visage, and wondered if he was a sharper. If the cards were fair, Sponge didn't care trying his luck. It all depended upon that. " Well," said he, in a tone of inditfer- ence, as he picked up his " IMogg," thinking he wouldn't pay if he lost, " I'll give you a turn. What shall it be ? " 16» 370 MK. sponge's sporting tour. " Oh — ^w-h-o-y — 'spose we say ecarU ? " replied Facey, in an off- hand sort of way. " Well," drawled Sponge, pocketing his " Mogg," preparatory to action. " You haven't a clean pack, have you ? " asked Sponge, as Facey, diving into a drawer, produced a very dirty, thumb-marked set. " W-h-o-y, no, I haven't," replied Facey. " W-h-o-y, no, I haven't : but, honour bright, these are all right and fair. Wouldn't cheat a man, if it was ever so." " Sure you wouldn't," replied Sponge, nothing comforted by the assertion. They then resumed their seats opposite each other at the little table, with the hot water and sugar, and " Fine London Spirit " bottle, equitably placed between them. At first Mr. Sponge was the victor, and by nine o'clock had scored eight-and-twenty shillings against his host, when he was in- clined to leave oflF, alleging that he was an early man, and would go to bed — an arrangement that Facey seemed to come into, only press- ing Sponge to accompany the gin he was now helping himself to with another cigar. This seemed ail fair and reasonable ; and as Sponge conned matters over, through the benign influence of the " baccy," he really thought Facey mightn't be such a bad beggar after all. " Well, then," said he, as he finished cigar and glass together, "if you'll give me eight-and-twenty-bob, I'll be^off to bedfordshire." " You'll give me my revenge surely ! " exclaimed Facey, in pre- tended astonishment. " To-morroio night,^'' replied Spocge firmly, thinking it would have to go hard with him if he remained there to give it. "Nay, now!'''' rejoined Facey, adding, "it's quite early. Me Oncle Gilroy and I always play much later at Queercove Hill." Sponge hesitated. If- he had got the money, he would have re- fused point-blank ; as it was, he thought, perhaps the only chance of getting it was to go on. With no small reluctance and misgivings he mixed himself another tumbler of gin and water, and, changing seats, resumed the game. Nor was our discreet friend far wrong in his calculations, for luck now changed, and Facey seemed to have the king quite at command. In less than an hour, he had not only wiped ofi" the eight-and-twcnty shillings, but had scored three pound fifteen against his guest. Facey would now leave ofi". Sponge, on the other hand, wanted to go on. Facey, however, was firm. " I'll cut you double or quits, then," cried Sponge, in rash despair. Facey accommodated him and doubled the debt. " Again ! " exclaimed Sponge, v/ith desperate energy. ^^Nol no more, thank ye," replied Facey, coolly. "Fair play's a jewel." " So it is," absented IMr. Sponge, thhiking he hadn't bad it. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 371 " Now," continued Facey, poking into the table-drawer and pro- ducing a dirty scrap of paper, with a little pocket ink-case, " if you'll give me an ' I.O.U.,' we'll shut up shop." "An 'I.O.U!'" retorted Sponge, looking virtuously indignant. " An ' I.O.U ! ' I'll give you your money i' the mornin'." " I know you will," replied Facey, coolly, putting himself in boxing attitude, exclaiming, as he measured out a distance, "just feel the biceps muscle of my arm — do believe I could fell an ox. However, never mind," continued he, seeing Sponge declined the feel. "Life's uncertain: so you give me an 'I.O.U.,' and we'll be all right and square. Short reckoniu's make long friends, you know," added he, pointing peremptorily to the paper. " I'd better give you a cheque at once," retorted Sponge, looking the very essence of chivalry. " Money, if you please," replied Facey ; muttering, with a jerk of his head, ^'^ donH like paper^ The renowned Sponge, for once, was posed. He had the money, but he didn't like to part with it. So he gave the 'I.O.U.,' and, lighting a twelve-to-the-pound candle, sulked off to undi-ess and crawl into the little impossibility of a bed. Night, however, brought no relief to our distinguished friend ; for, little though the bed was, it was large enough to admit lodgers, and poor Sponge was nearly worried by the half-famished vermin, who seemed bent on making up for the long fast they had endured since the sixteen-hands-man left. "Worst of all, as day dawned, the eternal " Jim Crow " recommenced his saltations, varied only with the " Come, arouse ye, arouse ye, my meny Swiss boy " of " me Oncle Gilroy." " Well, dash my buttons ! " groaned Sponge, as the discordant noise shot through his aching head, " but this is the worst spec I ever made in my life. Fed on pork, fluted deaf, bit with bugs, and robbed at cards — fairly, downrightly robbed. Never was a more reg'ler plant put on a man. Thank goodness, however, I haven't paid him — never will, either. Such a confounded, disreputable scoundrel deserves to be punished — big, bad, blackguard-looking fellow ! How the deuce I could ever be taken in by such a fellow ! Believe he's nothing but a great poaching blackleg. Hasn't the faintest outlines of a gentleman about him — not the slightest particle — not the remotest glimmerin'." These and similar reflections were interrupted by a great thump against the thin lath-and-plaster wall that separated their rooms, or rather closets, accompanied by an exclamation of — " Halloo, old boy ! now goes it ? " — an inquiry to which our friend deigned no answer. 372 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Ord rot ye ! you're awake," muttered Facey to himself, well knowing that no one could sleep after such a " Jim-Crow-ing " and " Swiss-boy-ing " as he had given him. He, therefore, resumed his battery, thumping as though he would knock the partition in. " Halloo ! " at last exclaimed Mr. Sponge, " who's there ? " " Well, old Sivin-Pund-Ten, how goes it ? " asked Facey, in a tone of the keenest irony. " You be ! " growled Mr. Sponge, in disgust. " Breakfast in half an hour ! " resumed Facey. " Pigs'-puddin's and sarsingers — all 'ot — pip in' 'ot ! " continued our host. " Wish you were pipin' 'ot," growled Mr. Sponge, as he jerked himself out of his little berth. Though Facey pumped him pretty hard during this second pig repast, he could make nothing out of Sponge with regard to his movements-^our friend parrying all his inquiries with his " Mogg," and assurances that he could amuse himself. In vain Facey repre- sented that his Oncle Gilroy would be expecting them ; that Mr. Hobler was ready for him to ride over on : Sponge wasn't inclined to shoot, but begged Facey wouldn't stay at home on his account. The fact was, Sponge meditated a bolt, and was in close confab with Leather, in the Rose and Crown stables, arranging matters, when the sound of his name in the yard caused him to look out, when — oh, welcome sight ! — a Puddingpote Bower messenger put Sir Harry's note in his hand, which had at length arrived at Jog's through their very miscellaneous transit, called a post. Sponge, in the joy of his heart, actually gave the lad a shilling ! He now felt like a new man. He didn't care a rap for Facey, and, ordering Leather to give him the hack and follow with the hunters, he presently cantered out of town as sprucely as if all was on the square. When, however, Facey found how matters stood, he determined to stop Sponge's things, which Leather resisted ; and, Facey showing fight, Leather butted him with his head, sending him backwards down stairs and putting his shoulder out. Leather then marched off with the kit, amid the honours of war. MR. SPOKGE's sporting TOUR. 373 CHAPTER LXI. NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN. The gallant inmates of Nonsuch House had resolved themselves into a committee of speculation, as to whether Mr. Sponge was coming or not ; indeed, .they had been betting upon it, the odds at first being a hundred to one that he came, though they had fallen a point or two on the arrival of the post without an answer. " Well, I say Mr. What-d'ye-call-him — Sponge — doesn't come I " exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck, as he lay full length, with his shaggy, greasy head on the fine rose-coloured satin sofa, and his legs cocked over the cushion. " Why not ? " asked Miss Glitters, who was beguiling the twilight half-hour before candles with knitting. " Don't know," replied Seedeybuck, twirling his moustache, " don't know — have a presentiment he won't." " Sure to come ! " exclaimed Captain Bouncey, knocking the ashes off his cigar on to the fine Tournay carpet, " I'll lay ten to one — ten fifties to one — he does, — a thousand to ten if you like." If all the purses in the house had been clubbed together, we don't be- lieve they would have raised fifty pounds. " What sort of a looking man is he ? " asked Miss Glitters, now counting her loops. '' Oh — whoy — ha — hem — haw — he's just an ordinary sort of lookin' man — nothin' 'tickler any way," drawled Captain Seedeybuck, now wetting and twirling his moustache. " Two legs, a head, a back, and so on, I presume," observed the lady. " Just so," assented Captain Seedeybuck. " He's a horsey lookin' sort o' man, I should say," observed Cap- tain Bouncey, " walks as if he ought to be ridin' — wears vinegar tops." " Hate vinegar tops," growled Seedeybuck. Just then, in came Lady Scattercash, attended by Mr. Orlando Bugles, the ladies' attractions having caused that distinguished per- former to forfeit his engagement at the Surrey Theatre. Captain Cutitfat, Bob Spangles, and- Sir Harry quickly followed, and the Sponge question was presently renewed. " Who says old brown boots comes ? " exclaimed Seedeybuck from the sofa. 374 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Who's that with his nasty nob on my fine satin sofa?" asked the lady. " Bob Spangles," replied Seedeybuck. " Nothing of the sort," rejoined the lady; "and I'll trouble you to get off." " Can't — I've got a bone in my leg," rejoined the captain. " I'll soon make you," replied her ladyship, seizing the squab, and pulling it on to the floor. As the captain was scrambling up, in came Peter — one of the wageless footmen — with candles, which having distributed equitably about the room, he approached Lady Scattercash, and asked, in an independent sort of way, what room Mr. Soapsuds was to have ? "Soapsuds! — Soapsuds! — that's not his name," exclaimed her ladyship. " Sponge, you fool ! Soapey Sponge," exclaimed Cutitfat, who had ferreted out Sponge's nomm.e de Londres. " He's not come, has he ? " asked Miss G-litters, eagerly. " Yes, my lady — that's to say, miss," replied Peter. " Come, has he ! " chorused three or four voices. " Well, he must have a (hiccup) room," observed Sir Harry. " The green — the one above the billiard-room will do," added he. " But / have that. Sir Harry," exclaimed Miss Howard. " Oh, it'll hold two well enough," observed Miss Glitters. " Then yoic can be the second," replied Miss Howard, with a toss of her head. " Indeed ! " sneered Miss Grlitters, bridling up. " I like that." " Well, but where's the (hiccup) man to be put ? " asked Sir Harry. " There's Ladofwax's room," suggested her ladyship. " The captin's locked the door and taken the key with him," replied the footman ; " he said he'd be back in a day or two." " Back in a (hiccup) or two ! " observed Sir Harry. " Where is he gone ? " The man smiled. '■'■Borrowed,'''' observed Captain Quod, with an emphasis. " Indeed ! " exclaimed Sir Harry; adding, "well, I thought that was Nabbum's gig with the old grey." " He'll not be back in a hurry," observed Bouncey. " He'll bo like the Boulogne gents, who are always going to England but never go." " Poor Wax ! " observed Quod ; " he's a big fool, to give him his due." " If you give him his due it's more than he gives other people, it seems," observed Miss Howard. " Oh, fie. Miss H. ! " exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck. " Well, but the (hiccup) man must have a (hiccup) bed some- MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 376 where," observed Sir Harry; adding to the footman, "you'd better (hiccup) the door open, you know." " Perhaps you'd better try what one of yours will do,"'>observed Bob Spangles, to the convulsion of the company. In the midst of their mirth, Mr. Bottleends was seen piloting Mr. Sponge up to her ladyship. " Sir. Sponge, my lady," said he, in as low and deferential a tone as if he got his wages punctually every quarter-day. " How do you do, Mr. Sponge ? " said her ladyship, tendering him her hand with an elegant curtsy. " How are you, Mr. (hiccup) Sponge ? " asked Sir Harry, offer- ing his; "I believe you know the (hiccup) company?" continued he, waving his hand around ; " Miss (hiccup) Grlitters, Captain (hiccup) Quod, Captain Bouncey, Mr. (hiccup) Bugles, Captain (hiccup) Seed- eybuck, and so on ; " whereupon Miss Glitters curtsied, the gentle- men bobbed their heads and drew near our hero, who had now sta- tioned himself before the fire. " Coldish, to-night," said he, stooping and placing both hands to the bars. " Coldish," repeated he, rubbing his hands and looking around. " It generally is about this time of year, I think," observed Miss Glitters, who was quite ready to enter for our friend. " Hope it won't stop hunting," said Mr. Sponge. " Hope not," replied Sir Harry ; " would be a bore if it did." " I wonder you gentlemen don't prefer hunting in a frost," ob- served Miss Howard ; " one would think it would be just the time you'd want a good warming." " I don't agree with you there," replied Mr. Sponge, looking at lier, and thinking she was not nearly so pretty as Miss Glitters. " Do you hunt to-morrow ? " asked he of Sir Harry, not having been able to obtain any information at the stables. " (Hiccup) to-morrow ? Oh, I dare say we shall," replied Sir Harry, who kept his hounds as he did his carriages, to be used when wanted. " Dare say we shall," repeated he. But though Sir Harry spoke thus encouragingly of their pros- pects, he took no steps, as far as Mr. Sponge could learn, to carry out the design. Indeed, the subject of hunting was never once men- tioned, the conversation after dinner, instead of being about the Quorn, or the Pytchley, or Jack Thompson with the Atherstone, turning upon the elegance and lighting of the Casinos in the Adelaide Gallery and AVinduiill-street, and the relative merits of those estab- lishments over the Casino de Venise in High Holborn. Nor did morning produce any change for the better, for Sir Harry and all the captains came down in their usual flashy broken-down player- looking attire, their whole thoughts being absorbed iu arranging for a pool at billiards, in which the ladies took part. So with billiards, 376 MR. sponge's sporting toxjr. brandy, ana " 'baccy," — " 'baccy," brandy, and billiards, varied with an occasional stroll about the grounds, the non-sporting inmates of Nonsuch House beguiled the time, much to Mr. Sponge's disgust, whose soul was on fire and eager for the fray. The reader's perhaps being the same, we will skip Christmas and pass on to New-Year's Day. CHAPTER LXII. A FAMILY BREAKFAST. 'TwERE almost superfluous to say that New-Year's Day is always a great holiday. It is a day on which custom commands people to be happy and idle, whether they have the means of being happy and idle or not. It is a day for which happiness and idleness are " booked," and parties are planned and arranged long beforehand. Some go to the town, some to the country ; some take rail ; some take steam ; some take greyhounds ; some take gigs ; while others take guns and pop at all the little dickey-birds that come in their way. The rural population generally incline to a hunt. They are not very particular as to style, so long as there are a certain number of hounds, and some men in scarlet, to blow their horns, halloo, and crack their whips. The population, especially the rising population about Nonsuch House, all inclined that way. A New- Year's Day hunt with Sir Harry had long been looked forward to by the little Eaws, and the little Spooneys, and the big and little Cheeks, and we don't know how many others. Nay, it had been talked of by the elder boys at their respective schools — we beg pardon, academies — Doctor Switch- ington's, Mr. Latherington's, Mrs. Skelper's, and a liberal allowance of boasting indulged in, as to how they would show each other the way over the hedges and ditches. The thing had long been talked of Old Johnny Haw had asked Sir Harry to arrange the day so long ago, that Sir Harry had forgotten all about it. Sir Harry was one of those good-natured souls who can't say " No " to any one. If anybody had asked if they might set fire to his house, he would have said, " Oh, (hiccup) certainly, my dear (hiccup) fellow, if it will give you any (hiccup) pleasure." Now, for the hiccup day. It is generally a frost on New- Year's Day ; — however wet and sloppy the weather may be up to the end of the year, it generally turns over a new leaf on that day. New-Year's Day is generally a bright, bitter, sunshiny day, with starry ice, and a most decided anti- MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 877 hunting feeling about it — iigtt, airy, ringy, anything but cheery for hunting. Thus it was in Sir Harry Scattcrcash's county. Having smoked and drank the old j^ear out, the captains and company retired to their couches without thinking about hunting. Mr. Sponge, indeed, was about tired of asking when the hounds would be going out. It was otherwise, however, with the rising generation, who were up betimes, and began pouring in upon Nonsuch House in every species of garb, on every description of steed, by every line and avenue of approach. " Halloo ! what's up now ? " exclaimed Lady Scattercash, as she caught view of the first batch rounding the corner to the front of the house. " Who have we here ? " asked Miss Glitters, as a ponderous, party-coloured clown, on a great, curly-coated cart-horse, brought up the rear. " Early callers," observed Captain Seedeybuck, eating away com- placently. " Friends of Mr. Sponge's, most likely," suggested Captain Quod. " Some of the little Sponges come to see their pa, p'raps," lisped 3Iiss Howard, pretending to be shocked after she had said it. " Bravo, Miss Howard ! " exclaimed Captain Cutitfat, clapping his hands. " I said nothing, captain," observed the young lady with becom- ing prudery. " Here we are again 1 " exclaimed Captain Quod, as a troop of various-sized urchins, in pea-jackets, with blue noses and red com- forters, on very shaggy ponies, the two youngest swinging in panniers over an ass, drew up alongside of the first comers. " Whose sliding-scale of innocence is that, I wonder," exclaimed Miss Howard, contemplating the variously sized chubby faces through the window. " He, he, he ! ho, ho, ho ! " giggled the guests. Another batch of innocence now hove in sight. " Oh, those are the little (hiccup) Raws," observed Sir Harry, catching sight of the sky-blue collar of the servant's long drab coat. " Good chap, old Johnny Raw ; ask them to (hiccup) in," continued he, " and give them some (hiccup) cherry brandy ; " and thereupon Sir Harry began nodding and smiling, and making signs to them to come in. The youngsters, however, maintained their position. " The little stupexes ! " exclaimed Miss Howard, going to the window, and throwing up the sash. " Come in, young gents !" cried she, in a commanding tone, addressing herself to the last comers. " Come in, and have some toify and lollypops ! D'ye hear ? " con- tinued she, in a still louder voice, and motioning her head towards the door. 378 ]\iK.. sponge's sporting tour. The boys sat mute. " You little stupid monkeys," muttered she in an under-tone, as the cold air struck upon her head. " Come in, like good boys," added she, in a louder key, pointing with her finger towards the door. " Nor, thenk ye ! " at last drawled the elder of the boys. " Nor, thenk ye ! " repeated Miss Howard, imitating the drawl. " Why not ? " asked she, sharply. The boy stared stupidly. " "Why won't you come in ? " asked she, again addressing him. " Don't know," replied the boy, staring vacantly at his younger brother, as he rubbed a pearl off his nose on the back of his hand. " Don't know ! " ejaculated Miss Howard, stamping her little foot on the Turkey carpet. " Mar said we hadn't," said the younger boy, coming to the res- cue of his brother. " Mar said we hadn't 1 " retorted the fair interrogator. " Why not?" ° ^ " Don't know," replied the elder. " Don't know ! you little stupid animal," snapped Miss Howard, the cold air increasing the warmth of her temper. " I wonder what you do know. Why did your ma say you were not to come in ? " continued she, addressing the younger one. " Because — because," hesitated he, " she said the house was full of trumpets." " Trumpets, you little scamp ! " exclaimed the lady, reddening up ; " I'll get a whip and cut your jacket into ribbons on your back." And thereupon she banged down the window and closed the conver- sation. CHAPTEK LXIII THE RISING GENERATION. The lull that prevailed in the breakfast-room on Miss Howard's re- turn from the window was speedily interrupted by fresh arrivals be- fore the door. The three Master Baskets in coats and lay-over collars, Master Shutter in a jacket and trousers, the two Master Bulgeys in woollen overalls, with very large hunting whips, Master Brick in a velveteen shooting-jacket, and the two Cheeks with their tweed trousers thrust into tiddle-case boots, on all sorts of ponies and family horses, began pawing and disordering the gravel in front of Nonsuch House. George Cheek was the head boy at Mr. Latherington's classical Mu. sponge's sporting tour. 379 and commercial academy, at Flagellation Hall (late the Crown and Sceptre Hotel and Posting House, on the Bankstone Koad), where, for forty pounds a year, eighty young gentlemen were fitted for the pulpit, the senate, the bar, the counting-house, or anything else their fond parents fancied them fit for. George was a tall stripling, out at the elbows, in at the knees, with his red knuckled hands thrust a long way through his tight coat. He was just of that awkward age when boys fancy themselves men, and men are not prepared to lower themselves to their level. Ladies get on better with them than men : either the ladies are more tolerant of twaddle, or their discerning eyes see in the gawky youth the germ of future usefulness. George was on capital terms with himself He was the oracle of Mr. Latherington's school, where he was not only head boy and head swell, but a considerable authority on sporting matters. He took in BelVs Life, which he read from beginning to end, and " noted its contents," as they say in the city. " I'll tell you what all these little (hiccup) animals will be want- ing," observed Sir Harry, as he cayenne-peppered a turkey's leg ; " they'll be come for a (hiccup) hunt." " Wish they may get it," observed Captain Seedeybuck; adding, " why, the ground's as hard as iron." " There's a big boy," observed Miss Howard, eyeing George Cheek through the window. " Let's have him in, and see what he's got to say for himself," said Miss Glitters. " You ask him, then," rejoined Miss Howard, who didn't care to risk another rub. " Peter," said Lady Scattercash to the footman, who had been loitering about, listening to the conversation, — " Peter, go and ask that tall boy with the blue neckerchief and the riband round his hat to come in." •' Yes, my lady," replied Peter. " And the (hiccup) Spooneys, and the (hiccup) Bulgeys, and the (hiccup) Raws, and all the little (hiccup) rascals," added Sir Harry. " The Raws won't come," Sir H., observed Miss Howard, 80- berly.^ " Bigger fools they," replied Sir Harry. Presently Peter returned with a tail, headed by George Cheek, who came striding and slouching up the room, and stuck himself down on Lady Scattercash's right. The small boys squeezed them- selves in as they could, one by Captain Seedeybuck, another by Cap- tain Bouncey, one by Miss Glitters, a fourth by Miss Howard, and so on. They all fell ravenously upon the provisions. Gobble, gobble, gobble was the order of the day. 380 ■ MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Well, and how often have you been flogged this half ? " asked Lady Scattercash of George Cheek, as she gave him a cup of coffee. Her ladyship hadn't much liking for youths of his age, and -would just as soon vex them as not. " Well, and how often have you been flogged this half ? " asked she again, not getting an answer to her first inquiry. " Not at all," Growled Cheek, reddening up. " Oh, flogged ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters, " You wouldn't have a young man like him flogged; it's only the little boys that get that — is it, Mister Cheek ? " " " To be sure not," assented the youth. " Mister Cheek's a man," observed Miss Glitters, eyeing him archly as he sat stuffing his mouth with currant-loaf plentifully be- smeared with raspberry-jam. " He'll be wanting a wife soon," added she, smiling across the table at Captain Seedeybuck. " I question but he's got one," observed the captain, " ]So, ar haven't" replied Cheek, pleased at the imputation. " Then there's a chance for you, Miss G.," retorted the cap'- tain. " Mrs. George Cheek will look well on a glazed card with gilt edges." " What a cub ! " exclaimed Miss Howard, in disgust. " You're another," replied Master Cheek, amidst a roar of laugh- ter from the party. " Well, but you ask your master if you mayn't have a wife next half, and we'll see if we can't arrange matters," observed Miss Glit- ters. " Noo, ar sharnt," replied George, stuffing his mouth full of pre- served apricot. " Why not ? " asked Miss Howard. " Because — because — ar'll have somethin' younger," replied George. " Bravo, young Chesterfield ! " exclaimed Miss Howard; adding, " what it is to be thick with Lord John Manners ! " " Ar'm not ! " growled the boy, amidst the mirth of the com- pany. " Well, but what must we do with these little (hiccup) ? " asked Sir Harry, at last rising from the breakfast-table, and looking list- lessly rouud the company for an answer. " ! liquor them well, and send them home to their mammas," suggested Captain Bouncey, who was all for the drink. " But they won't take their (hiccup)," replied Sir Harry, holding up a Curacoa bottle to show how little had disappeared. " Try them with cherry brandy," suggested Captain Seedeybuck ; adding, " it's sweeter. Now, young man," continued he, addressing George Cheek, as he poured him out a wine-glassful, " this is the real MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 381 Dafiy's elixir that you read of in the papers. It's the finest com- pound that ever was known. It will make your hair curl, your whis- kei-s grow, and you a man before your mother." " N-o-a, n-o-ar, don't wan't any more," growled the young gentle- man, turning away in disgust. " Ar won't drink any more." " Well, but be sociable," observed Miss Howard, helping herself to a glass. " N-o-a, no, ar don't wan't to be sociable," growled he, diving into his trouser-pockets, and wriggling about on his chair. " Well, then, what will you do ? " asked Miss Howard. " Hunt," replied the youth. " Hunt I " exclaimed Bob Spangles, " why, the ground's as hard as bricks." " N-o-a, it's not," replied the youth. " What a whelp ! " exclaimed Miss Howard, rising from the table in disgust. " My uncle Jellyboy, wouldn't let such a frost stop him, I know," observed the boy. " Who's your uncle Jellyboy ? " asked Miss Glitters. " He's a farmer, and keeps a few harriers at Scutley," observed Bob Spangles, soito voce. " And is that your extraordinary horse with all the legs ? " asked Miss Howard, putting her glass to her eye, and scrutinising a lank, woolly-coated weed, getting led about by a blue-aproned gardener. " Is that your extraordinary horse, with all the legs ? " repeated she, following the animal about with her glass. '• Hoots, it hasn't more legs than other people's," growled George. " It's got ten, at all events," replied Miss Howard, to the aston- ishment of the juveniles. " Nor, it hasn't," replied George. " Yes, it has," rejoined the lady. "Nor, it hasn't," repeated George. " Come and see," said the lady ; adding, " perhaps it's put out some since you got off," George slouched up to where she stood at the window. " Now," said he as the gardener turned the horse round, and he saw it had but four, " how many has it ? " " Ten ! " replied Miss Howard. " Hoots," replied George, " you think it's April Fool's Day, I dare say." " No, I don't," replied Miss Howard ; " but I maintain your horse has ten legs. See, now ! " continued she, " what do you call these coming here ? " " His two forelegs," replied George." " Well, two fours — twice four's eight, eh ? and his two hind ones make ten." 382 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " Hoots," growled George, amidst the mirth of his comrades, " you're makin' a fool o' one." " Well, but what must I do with all these little (hiccup) crea- tures ? " asked Sir Harry again, seeing the plot still thickening out- side. " Turn them out a bagman," suggested Mr. Sponge, in an under- tone ; adding, " Watchorn has a three-legged 'un, I know, in the hay- loft." " Oh, Watchorn wouldn't (hiccup) on such a day as this," replied Sir Hari-y. " New- Year's day, too — most likely away, seeing his young hounds at walk." " We might see, at all events," observed Mr. Sponge. " Well," assented Sir Harry, ringing the bell. " Peter," said he, as the servant answered the summons, " I wish you would (hiccup) to Mr. Watchorn's, and ask if he'll have the kindness to (hiccup) down here." Sir Harry was obliged to be polite, for Watchorn, too, was on the " free list," as Miss Griitters called it. " Yes, Sir Harry," replied Peter, leaving the room. Presently Peter's white legs were seen wending their way among the laurels and evergreens, in the direction of Mr. Watchorn's house; he having a house and grass for six cows, all whose milk, he declared, went to the puppies and young hounds. Luckily, or unluckily, per- haps, Mr. Watchorn was at home, and was in the act of shaving as Peter entered. He was a square-built, dark-faced, dark-haired, good-looking, ill-looking fellow, who cultivated his face on the four- course system of husbandry. First, he had a bare fallow — we mean a clean shave ; that of course was followed by a full crop of hair all over, except on his upper lip ; then he had a soldier's shave, oif by the ear ; which in turn was followed by a Newgate frill. The latter was his present style. He had now no whiskers, but an immense protuberance of bristly black hair, rising like a wave above his ker- chief Though he cared no more about hunting than his master, he was very fond of his red coat, which he wore on all occasions, sub- stituting a hat for a cap when " off duty," as he called it. Having attired himself in his best scarlet, of which he claimed three a year, one for wet days, one for dry days, another for high days — very natty kerseymere shorts and gaiters, with a small-striped, standing collar, toilenette waistcoat, he proceeded to obey the sum- mons. " Watchorn," said Sir Harry, as the important gentleman appeared at the breakfast-room door, — " Watchorn, these young (hiccup) gen- tlemen want a (hiccup) hunt." " ! want must be their master, Sir 'Arry," replied Watchorn, with a broad grin on his flushed face, for he had been drinking all night, and was half drunk then. " Can't you manage it ? " asked Sir Harry, mildly. MR. sponge's sporting TOUR. 383 " 'Ow is't possible, Sir 'Arry," asked the huntsman, "'ow is't possible ? No man's fonder of 'untin' than I am, but to turn out on such a day as this would be a daring — a desperate violation of all the laws of registered propriety. The Pope's bull would be nothin' to it ! " " How so ? " asked Sir Harry, puzzled with the jumble. " How so ? " repeated "Watchorn ; " how so ? Why, in the fust place, it's a mortal hard frost, 'arder nor hiron ; in the second place, I've got no arrangements made, — you can't turn out a pack of 'igh- bred fox'ounds as you would a lot of ' staggers ' or ' muggers ; ' and, in the third place, you'll knock all your nags to bits, and they are a deal better in their wind than they are on their legs, as it is. No, Sir 'Arry — no," continued he slowly and thoughtfully. " No, Sir 'Arry, no. Be Cardinal Wiseman, for once. Sir 'Arry ; be Cardinal Wiseman for once, and don't think of it." " Well," replied Sir Harry, looking at George Cheek, " I suppose there's no help for it." " It was quite a thaw where I came from," observed Cheek, half to Sir Harry and half to the huntsman. " 'Deed, sir, 'deed," replied Mr. Watchorn, with a chuck of his fringed chin, " it generally is a thaw everywhere but where hounds meet." " My Uncle Jellyboy wouldn't be stopped by such a frost as this," observed Cheek. " 'Deed, sir, 'deed," replied Watchorn, " your Uncle Jellyboy's a very fine feller, I dare say, — very fine feller ; no such conju- rors in these parts as he is. What man dare, I dare ; he who dares more, is no man," added Watchorn, giving his fat thigh a hearty slap. " Well done, old Talliho ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters. " We'll have you on the stage next." " What will you wet your whistle with, after your fine speech ? " asked Lady Scattercash. " Take a tumbler of chumpine, if there is any," replied Watch- orn, looking about for a long-necked bottle. " Fear you'll come on badly," observed Captain Seedeybuck, holding up an empty one, " for Bouncey and I have just finished the last; " the captain chucking the bottle sideways on to the floor, and rolling it towards its companions in the corner. " Have a fresh bottle," suggested Lady Scattercash, drawing the bell-string at her chair. " Champagne," said her ladyship, as the footman answered the summons. " Tioo on 'em ! " exclaimed Captain Bouncey. " Three! " shouted Sir Harry. " We'll have a regular set-to," observed Miss Howard, who v^'^s fond of champagne. 384 MR. sponge's sporting tour. " New- Year's Day," replied Bouncey, " and ought to be properly observed." " Presently, fiz — z, — pop, — bang ! Fiz — z, — pop, — bang ! went the bottles ; and as the hissing beverage foamed over the bottle- necks, glasses were sought and held out to catch the creaming con- tents. " Here's a (hiccup) happy new year to us all ! " exclaimed Sir Harry, drinking off his wine. " H-o-o-ray ! " exclaimed the company in irregular order, as they drank off theirs. " We'll drink Mr. Watchorn and the Nonsuch hounds ! " ex- claimed Bob Spangles, as Watchorn, having drained off his tumbler, replaced it on the sideboard. " With all the honors ! " exclaimed Captain Cutitfat, filling his glass and rising to give the time ; " Watchorn, your good health ! " " Watchorn, your good health ! " " Watchorn, your good health ! " sounded from all parts, which Watchorn kept acknowledging, and looking about for the means to return the compliment, his friends being more intent upon drinking his health than upon supplying him with wine. At last he caught the third of a bottle of " chumpine," and emptying it into his tumbler, held it up while he thus addressed them : " Gen'lemen all ! " said he, " I thank you most 'ticklarly for this mark of your 'tention (applause) ; it's most gratifyin' to my feelins to be thus remembered (applause). I could say a great deal more, but the liquor won't wait." So saying, he drained off his glass while the wine effervesced. " Well, and what d'ye (hiccup) of the weather now ? " asked Sir Harry, as his huntsman again deposited his tumbler on the side- board. " 'Pon my soul ! Sir 'Arry," replied Watchorn, quite briskly, " I really think we might ' unt — we might try, at all events. The day seems changed, some'ow," added he, staring vacantly out of the window on the bright sunny landscape, with the leafless trees dancing before his eyes. " /think so," said Sir Harry. " What do you think Mr. Sponge ? " added he, appealing to our hero. " Half an hour may make a great difference," observed Mr. Sponge. " The sun will then be at its best." " We'll try, at all events," observed Sir Harry. " That's right," exclaimed George Cheek, waving a scarlet bandana over his head. " I shall expect you to ride up to the 'ounds, young gent," ob- served Watchorn, darting an angry look at the speaker. " Won't I, old boy ! " exclaimed George ; " ride over you, if you don't get out of the way." i«xji»T :e*oi*. tixjes 3vrxxjiXjXoz'/ei i. *zssL yrmr: 5 i^mta I ' ■ ' > ^ ^11