ril|, * m /$&sG) n (cMm.... .^. -VA \ Hpi B| QUOD DEUs' VULtViAT.' 91 '.\tjW "SPl.* I 1 'l»il5^ MM "^ffitL^ Jjrr- I^l 5 F^x S^i IffiaSfiM 1- DALLAM LEONARD ^©^ MOVIUS <43> Is pj#MB^^?:-^]iro^aif^iiiJ TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 3 9090 014 562 736 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. _■ Family Library of Veterinary Medicine Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at Tufts University 200 Westboro Road North Grafton, MA 01536 AIR. SPONGE'S Sporting Tour AUTHOR OF "HANDLEY CROSS,'' "ASK MAMMA/' PLAIN OR RINGLETS?" "MR. ROMFORD'S HOUNDS," &c &c. WITH II LUSTRATIONS BY JOHN LEECH. LONDON : BRADBURY AGNEW & CO., Ld., io, BOUVER1E ST., E.C. , PREFACE TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION. The author gladly avails himself of the convenience of a Preface for stating, that it will be seen at the close of the work why he makes such a characterless character as Mr. Sponge the hero of his tale. He will be glad if it serves to put the rising gene- ration on their guard against specious, promiscuous acquaintance, and trains them on to the noble sport of hunting, to the exclusion of its mercenary, illegitimate off-shoots. November, 1852. CONTEXTS. CHAPTER I. — OUR HERO II. — MR. BENJAMIN BUCKRAM III. — PETER LEATHER ... IV. — " LA VERICK WELLS " V. — MR. WAFFLES .... VI. — TO LAVERICK WELLS .... VII. — OUR HERO ARRIVES AT LAVERICK WELLS VIII. — OLD TOM TOWLER IX. — THE MEET .... X. — THE FIND, AND THE FINISH . XL— THE FEELER XII. — THE DEAL, AND THE DISASTER XIII. — AN OLD FRIEND . XIV. A NEW SCHEME XV.— JAWLEYFORD COURT . XVI. — THE JAWLEYFORD ESTABLISHMENT. XVII.— THE DINNER XVIII. — THE EVENING'S REFLECTIONS . XIX.— THE WET DAY XX. — THE F. H. H. . . . XXI. — A COUNTRY DINNER-PARTY . XXII.— THE F. H. H. AGAIN XXIII. — THE GREAT RUN . XXIV. — LORD SCAMPERDALE AT HOME XXV. — MR. SPRAGGON'S EMBASSY . XXVI. — MR. SPRAGGON AT JAWLEYFORD COURT . XXVII. MR. AND MRS. Sl'RINGWHEA T XXVIII. — THE FINEST RUN THAT EVER WAS SEEN" ! XXIX. — THE FAITHFUL GROOM 5 10 17 21 27 31 37 41 47 55 5& 63 71 77 81 86 92 95 104 111 121 129 140 149 160 169 179 185 vi CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XXX. — THE CROSS-ROADS AT DALLINGTON BURN . .191 XXXI.— BOLTING THE BADGER 199 XXXII.— MR. PUFFINGTON ; OR, THE YOUNG MAN ABOUT TOWN . . 205 XXXIII. — A SWELL HUNTSMAN 215 XXXIV.— LORD SCAMPERDALE AT JAWLEYFORD COURT . . . 226 XXXV. — MR. PUFFINGTON's DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS . 237 XXXVI. — A DAY WITH PUFFINGTON'S HOUNDS 242 XXXVII.— WRITING A RUN ... 250 XXXVIII.— A LITERARY BLOOMER . . ... 261 XXXIX.— A DINNER AND A DEAL 266 XL. — THE MORNING'S REFLECTIONS ... . 277 XLI.— WANTED— A RICH GOD-PAPA ! . 288 XLII.— THE DISCOMFITED DIPLOMATIST 294 XLIII. — PUDDINGPOTE BOWER, THE SEAT OF JOGGLEBURY CROWDEY, ESQ 303 XLIV. — A FAMILY BREAKFAST ON A HUNTING MORNING 311 XLV. — HUNTING THE HOUNDS .... 319 XLVI.— COUNTRY QUARTERS ... .... 324 XLVII. — SIR HARRY SCATTERCASH'S H0UND3 328 XLVIII. — FARMER PEASTRAW'-S dInE-MATINEE ... 338 XLIX. — PUDDINGPOTE BOWER . 351 L. — THE TRIGGER ..... 360 LI.— NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN ... 367 LII.— THE DEBATE 377 LIII. — FACEY ROMFORD AT HOME ... . . 388 LIV. — NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN . 396 LV. — THE RISING GENERATION ... . . 409 LVL— THE KENNEL AND 'ITIE STUD . ... 409 LVII.— THE HUNT 415 LVIII.— MR. SPONGE AT HOME .428 LIX. — HOW THE GRAND ARISTOCRATIC CAME OFF 435 LX. — HOW OTHER THINGS CAME OFF ...... 445 ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD. PAGE Mr. Sponge in Oxford Street ......... 1 Mr. Sponge negotiating with Mr. Buckram . . . . . .10 Mr. Thomas Slocdolager, late Master of the Laveriek AVells Hounds 17 Mr. Waffles . 21 Leather on " Ercles " and Parvo .27 Tom in Hunting Habiliments . . 37 Enjoying the View .......... 41 Captain Greatgun ... 47 Decorated with a sky-blue Visite .... 59 Portrait of Lord Bullfrog, formerly owner of Hercules . 63 Mr. Sponge in good feather ....... . .71 Jawleyford of Jawleyford Court ...... 81 Making Light Wine ..... .... 86 " This, of course you know ?" . 95 Mr. Robert Foozle . . . 104 Mr. Sponge and the Misses Jawleyford Ill Jawleyford going to the Hunt . . . .... 121 His Lordship has it all to himself . ... 129 Silver-mounted Spectacles ... 140 His Lordship and Jack .144 Good Night. ... 14S Mr. Jawleyford's peculiar ailment ... .149 Enter Mr. Jack Spraggon, full dress .... 160 Springwheat's Five-year-old Horse . . 169 Over! -179 Going to Cover 185 Mr. Leather and Sponge have a Difference of Opinion .... 188 The Morning Ride to Dallington . • . . 191 Jack Frostv and Charley Slapp ... 197 ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD. Swell " Clothes to the Printer Sponge Mistress and Maid .... Mr. Sponge demanding an Explanation Mr. Puffington, from the original picture An " ama-a-zin' poplar " Man . Lord Scamperdale as he appeared in his " An early Breakfast .... A good Run . A Running Writer . Miss Grimes giving the "corrected " Copy Mr. Pacey .... Mr. Puffington The Joggleburys at Home Jogglebury's Return .... Mr. Jogglebury introducing himself to Mi Bartholomew and Murry Ann Gustavus James .... Lady Scattercash ..... The Nonsuch Courier Mr. Bugles prefers Dancing to Hunting Gustavus James in Trouble Mr. Sponge gives Ponio a Lesson Frantic delight of Ponto . Domestic Economy of Nonsuch House . Sir Harry of Nonsuch House . Mr. Facey Romford .... Billiards Facey . . ' . " Mr. Sponge, my Lady " . Sponge "a Captive" Voluntary Contributions Mr. Viney and Mr. Watchorn getting up " The Grand Aristocratic Mr. and Mrs. Sponge PAOB 199 203 205 215 226 236 212 250 263 266 277 288 294 297 303 311 324 328 338 351 360 363 367 377 388 396 399 428 434 435 450 ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD. FULL PAGE. Mr. Waffles, the Master of the " Laverick Wells " Hour Mr. Sponge arrives at Laverick Wells . Old Tom Towler Mr. Sponge and Hercules Mr. Caingey Thornton doesn't "put on Steam enough Mr. Waffles at Miss Lollypop's .... Mr. Jawleyford ..." what a Landlord ought to be ' Mr. Sponge's Arrival at Jawleyford Court Mr. Sponge in the best Bedroom at Jawleyford Court Mr. Sponge's Eapid Breakfast .... Sponge and Hercules in a Mess .... Spraggon's Embassy to Jawleyford Court Mr. Jawleyford and his unlooked-for Visitor Lord Scamperdale and Miss Amelia Jack protests against all Railways .... Captain Guano's new Stirrup-leathers . "You're a Gen'leman, you are ! " . Jack and Mr. Sponge writing an Article Mr. Pacey tries Multum-in-Parvo .... Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey on his Hobby Mr. Sponge starting from the Bower " Let Mr. Bugles through " ds To face page. 22 32 38 48 50 60 80 92 104 136 156 163 230 238 247 253 255 232 318 329 334 ENGEAVINGS ON WOOD. " He's away ! — reet 'cross tornops " . Mr. Sponge's Red Coat commands no Respect Miss Howard and Miss Glitters . Facey Romford treats Sponge to a little Music The Rising Generation .... Mr. Bugles goes out Hunting again Mr. Sponge and Lucy Glitters . To face page 336 370 387 391 404 414 438 ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL. MR. SPONGE IS INTRODUCED TO ERCLES HERCULES "TAKES" A DRAPER'S SHOP MR. SPONGE AT JAWLEYFORD COURT .... ONE OF MULTUM-IN-PARVO'S "GOING " DAYS . . . MR. SPONGE AT FARMER SPRINGWHEAT's. — HORROR OF LORD SCAMPERDALE MR. SPONGE COMPLETELY SCATTERS HIS LORDSHIP . . MR. BRAGG'S EQUESTRIAN PORTRAIT .... A DAY WITH PUFFINGTON'S HOUNDS HUNTING THE HOUNDS MR. SPONGE ARRIVES AT SIR HARRY'S MR. JOGGLEBURY CROWD EY WITH HIS DOG AND HIS GUN LUCY GLITTERS SHOWING THE WAY MR. SPONGE DECLARES HIMSELF To face page 14 62 88 108 174 198 234 248 320 330 364 418 422 Mr. Sponges Sporting Tour. CHAPTER I. HERO. MR. SPONGE IN OXFORD STREET. T was a murky Octo- ber day that the hero of our tale, Mr. Sponge, or Soapey Sponge, as his good- natured friends call him, was seen miz- zling 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 Ald- ridge's, in St. Mar- tin's Lane, thence by Moore's sporting- print-shop, and on ambiguous and tortuous streets that, 3 at once and none in particular, land through some of those appearing to lead all wa the explorer, sooner or later, on the south side of Oxford Street. Oxford Street acts to the north part of London what the Strand 2 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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-toed, sort of pace, regulated by the bonnets, the vehicles, and the equestrians he met lo criticise ; for of women, vehicles, and horses, he had voted himself a consummate judge. 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. Thus Mr. Sponge proceeded leisurely along, now nodding to this man, now jerking his elbow to that, now smiling 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, and after coming to a long check at Rotten Row rails, from whence he would pass all the 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 proceeding. 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 pleasure 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 indis- cretions 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 diversion of fortune-hunting, though we are concerned to say that his success, up to the period of our introduction, had not been commensurate 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 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 3 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 gentleman. 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 h.rse in over-night, with whom he might chance to come in contact in the hunting-field. And he did it all in such a cool, off-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 difficulty of getting him out again, but this we must waive for the present in favour of his portraiture. In height, Mr. Sponge was about 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 fore- head, bright hazel eyes, Roman nose, with carefully tended whiskers, reaching the corners 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 propensities, 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 bought 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 probationary 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, still it was a very becoming hat when Sponge had it on. There is a great deal of character in hats. "We have seen kats that bring the owners to the ree Possessi°n °f a vei7 considerable amount of charming ready money. "Were it not that a "proud aristo- cracy," as Sir Eobert 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, mr. waffles. but the tide 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 great 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 Hrst 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 married 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 contracted 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 ( Ihancery ; 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 the Oxford 22 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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 hunters and a hack, much to the satisfaction of the neighbour- ing 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. Slocdolager'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 slightest idea of the value of money, and looked at the fortune he was so closely ap- proaching as perfectly inexhaustible. His rooms, the most spacious and splendid at that most spacious and splendid hotel, the " Impe- rial," 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 repre- sented all sorts of imaginary scenes, but whose real worth or genuine- ness 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 expressive 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. Some- times 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 profusion 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-stringed pumps ; and, before the admiring ladies had well digested 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 things by turns, and nothing long." WAFFLES, THE MASTER OF THE "LAVERICk WELLS HOUNDS. MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 23 Such was the gentleman elected to succeed the silent, matter-of- fact Mr. Slocdolager in the important office of Master of the Laverick Wells Hunt ; and whatever may be the merits of either — upon which we pass no opinion — it cannot be denied that they were essentially different. 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 off, 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 - and-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 slanging people. Indeed, a stranger would have taken him for the master, a delusion 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 ; occasionally 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 aot 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 in his throat ! " — or, " Do come away, sir ! — you, sir ! — the man in the mushroom-looking hat ! " — or, " that •.gentleman in the parsimonious boots ! " looking at some one with yery narrow tops. Still he was a rattling, good-natured, harum-scarum fellow ; and masterships of hounds, memberships of Parliament — all expensive 24 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. unmoney-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 out of Chancery, he disdained to talk about a subscription, and boldly took the hounds as his own." He theD became a very important personage 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, Waffles that, " Who dines with Waffles ? " " Waffles is the best fellow under the sun ! By Jingo, I know no such man as Waffles ! " " 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 hundred, when they were paid. Every thing was in the same proportion. 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 Winkeyes, the popular bachelor-preacher of St. Margaret's, teach- ing 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, aud muffatees innumerable. Some, we are sorry to say, worked him cigar-cases. He, in return, having expended a vast of toil and ingenuity 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 button. The. letters, two W's, were so skilfully entwined, that even a composi- MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUE. 25 tor — and compositors are people who can read almost any thing — would have been puzzled to decypher it. The letters were gilt, riveted on steel, and the wearers of the button-brooches were very soon dubbed 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 in the decorative depart- ment, and 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 cuffs ; and the evening, or dress coat, was to be cream-colour, with a scarlet collar and cuff's, 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, experience 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 very expensive things — led to habits of irregularity — should be sorry to see such a nice young man as Mr. AVaffles led astray — not that it would make any differ- ence to them, but (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 completely neutralised 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 little Mary Ogleby's dark eyes extracted it in the morning, and made him think of her till the commanding figure and noble air of the Honourable Miss Letitia Amelia Susannah Jemimah de Jenkins, in all the elegance of first-rate millinery and dressmaker- ship, 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 endea- vours 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 26 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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 deficiency some- where. 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 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 mak- ing 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 consider- able difference in the melting. Now a real bond fide 100,000?. always counts as three in common 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 his other extravagances, 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 lortune, 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 water- ing-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 year. Lovely girls, who didn't care a farthing if the MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 27 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 observa- tion 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 to 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 water- ing-places. Bathing-places are a shade better than watering- places in the way of occupation, for people can sit staring at the sea, counting the ships, or polishing their nails with a shell, whereas, at watering-places, they have generally little to do but 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 the men. CHAPTER VI. TO LAVERICK WELLS. HE flattering accounts Mr. Sponge read in the papers of the distinguished company assembled at Laverick AYells, together with details 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 LEATHER ON « EKCLES « AND PAKVO. Suit him. ACCOrdingly, thither he despatched Mr. Leather with the redoubtable horses by the road, intending 28 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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 enables 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 accomplish 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 sheet- ing, 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 proclaim 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-buttoned, brown cut- away, with a clean striped vest, ample white cravat, drab breeches and boots, that looked as though they had brushed through a few bullfinches ; and so they had, but not with Leather's 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 gentleman 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 affection of the nose. He had everything 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 sticking through the roller. Leather arrived at Laverick Wells just as the first shades of a November night were drawing on, and anxious mammas and careful 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. MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 29 " I say, old Bardolph ! who do them 'ere quadrupeds belong to ? " ashed 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 ! — I toioiv 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. " That's 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 without 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 Stables," in Pegasus Street, or Peg Street, as it is generally called, where he enacted the character of stud-groom to perfec- tion, 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 the treadmill, or his subsequent career. This introduction 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 etiquette of servi- tude to say, that on joining the " Mutton-chop and Meaiy- 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 anything 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 impossible man to live with ; indeed, his only wonder was, that he 30 MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. had been able to put hup with him so long." The duchess was a "good cretur," he said, and, indeed, it was maiuly 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 Pytchley ; " 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 uncharitable- ness," had gone to California. A weak-minded man might have his head turned by hearing the description given of him by his friends. But hear the same party on the running-down tack ! — when either his own importance is not involved, 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. Mr. Leather, as we said before, was in the laudatory strain, but, like many indiscreet people, he overdid it. Not content with magnifying 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 gathering, 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. MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 31 " Hang your play ! " replied Spareneck ; " you're i thinking of play — it's hunting I'm talking of," bringing his 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 shalln't!" exclaimed Caingey Thornton, Mr. Waffles' s premier toady, and constant trencher-man. " I'll 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 Hoppey, 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 conifi back," rejoined Ned Stringer ; " we shall be late. See, it's only ten to, now," continued he, pointing to the timepiece above the fire ; whereupon there was a putting 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. OUR HERO ARRIVES AT LAVE RICK WELLS. Punctual to the moment, the railway train, conveying the redoubtable genius, glid into the well-lighted, elegant little station of Laverick Wells, and 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 Mr. 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 undeceived him on that point. Having D 32 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. eased hiin of his wrapper, and inquired about his luggage, and despatched a porter for a fly, they stood together over the port- manteau 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 removed sin they com'd, so either on 'em is fit to go i' the mornin' that you think proper." " Where are the hounds ? " asked our hero. " 'Ounds be at Whirleypool Windmill," 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 is 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 Latchfords 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 eyeinu- our friend most intently. " 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" repeated 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 aspeakin' to the youth in the tweed and all tweed ; that be Master Caingey Thornton, as big a little blackguard 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 believed there wasn't not never sich another man i' the world as Waffles — not another sich rider — not another sich racket-player — not another sich pigeon-shooter — not another sich fine chap altogether." " Has Thornton any horses ? " asked Sponge. Ill | mm H -TTTTTTi r7TTTTiTi7 II 'ii ^ — -fl~7!i[^h III] 'H MR. SPONGE ARRIVES AT LAVERICK WELLS MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 33 " 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 coffee-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 proceed 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 f our-and-twenty shillings a week for nothing. Mr. Sponge stood eyeing them for some seconds with evident approbation. " If any one asks you about the horses, you can say they are mine, 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." " You trust me" replied Leather, with a knowing wink and a jerk of his elbow against his master's side ; " you trust me," repeated he, with a look as much as to say, " we understand each other." " I've hadded a few to them, indeed," continued Leather, look- ing to see how his master took it. " Have you ? " observed Mr. Sponge, inquiringly. 11 I've made out that you've as good as twenty, one way or another," 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. " Why, 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 34 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. flunkies as well as grains, that there's nothin' talked of at dinner or tea, but the terrible rich stranger that's a comin', aud 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 whatV 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 nothin' 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 somewhere, 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 extract any good from, Mr. Sponge changed the subject by giving orders for the morrow. Mr. Sponge's appearance being decidedly of the sporting order, and his horses maintaining the character, did not alleviate the agi- tated 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 country. We have known the most deadly feuds engen- dered between parties who never spoke to each other by adroit go- betweens reporting 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 ; " shouldn't wonder if he can go — dare say he'll try — shouldn't wonder if he's floored — awfully stiff 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. MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB. 35 " I've no notion of a fellow lording it, because he happens to come out of Leicestershire," rejoined Mr. Thornton. " Nor 77" 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's rooms, who was allowed the privilege of paying for all those who did not pay for them- selves ; 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 disap- peared 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 desperately in want of a mount, after going the rounds of the old laudatory 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 in his usual felicitous 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 them- selves 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 36 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 2;in-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 purpose— 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 fox's 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 ex- hilarating at all times, except, perhaps, when the " fallows are flying," and the sportsman feels that in all probability the further he 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 " look- ing before you leap," and so conducive to danger and difficulty, and as going even at a fair pace depends upon the state of the at- mosphere, 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 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 country — never saw such fencing in all my life ! " Drag-hunting, however, as we said before, is not popular with sportsmen, certainly not with huntsmen, and though our friends with their wounded feelings determined to have one, they had yet to smooth over old Tom to get him to come into their views. That was now the difficulty. 21 It. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 37 CHAPTER virr. OLD TOM TOWLER. WtoiXF**- habiliments;. 5=^® HERE are few more difficult persons to identify than a huntsman in un- dress, 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 postilion, 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 weak for a groom, too small for a coachman, too ugly for a postilion, too stunted for a footman, too light for a plough- man, too useless-looking for almost anything. Any one looking at him in " mufti " would exclaim, " what an unfortunate ohject ! " and perhaps offer 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, scambling, crooked-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 38 MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. fall, his collar-bone fractured, his left leg broken and his right arm ditto, to say nothing of damage to his ribs, fingers, and feet, and having had his face scarified like pork by repeated brushings through strong thorn fences. But we will describe him as he appeared before Mr. Waffles, and the 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 eleemosynary drink generally going on in large houses of publio entertainment, had taken up his quarters in the bar of the " Imperial," where he was attentively perusing the " meets " in Bell's Life, reading how the Atherstone met at Gopsall, the Bedale 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 huntsmen, 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 stair- case 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, upstairs 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 dash ing rider, Tom Towler, whose name was celebrated throughout the country. He might have been a village tailor, or sexton, or barber ; anything but a hero. " Well, Tom," said Mr. Waffles, taking up the Fox's head, as- Torn came to anchor by his side, " how are you ? " x .M'vi i IB OLD TOM TOWLER. MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 39 " Nicely, thank you, sir," replied Tom, giving the bald head another sweep. Mr. Waffles.—1' What'll you drink ? " 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. " Gentlemen 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 try in' 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 ? " " 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 Ms" 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 through his mind. " Take another drop of something," said Mr. Waffles, again raising 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 — o — o," replied Tom, adding, " there's no fear of that." " But he swears he will ! " exclaimed Mr. Caingey Thornton. " He swears there isn't a man shall come within a field of him." 40 MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. " Indeed," observed Tom, with a twinkle of his little bright eyes. " I tell you what, Tom," observed Mr. Waffles, " we must sarve him out, somehow." " 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, sinking the second one. " What will you have ? " asked Mr. Waffles. " Port, if you please," replied Tom. " Here it is," rejoined Mr. Waffles, again handing him the measure. 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 essayed to get 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 stiffest 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 com- municated to before it could be carried out, and the happy state old Tom was in for arranging matters. Nevertheless, our friends at the " Imperial " congratulated themselves on their success ; and after a few minutes spent in discussing old Tom on his with- drawal, the party broke up, to array themselves in the splendid dress uniform of the " Hunt," to meet again at Miss Jumpheavy's ball. MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING- TOUR. 41 CHAPTEE IX. THE MEET. ARLY ENJOYING THE VIEW. 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. Eiding-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 indifferent. 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 complacent with regard to strangers, so long as they are strangers, generally making them out to be a good deal better than they really are, 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 Laverick 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 expectancy. 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 uncommon care in the most complete style of the severe order of sporting costume. It being now the 42 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. commencement of the legitimate hunting season — the first week in November — he availed himself of the privileged period for turning out in 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 the haven of his low coat-collar. His neck was enveloped in the ample folds of a large white silk cravat, tied in a pointing diamond tie, and secured with a 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 supposed 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 waist- coat, 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 furrow 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 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 43 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 we 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 them 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 peculiarity than would forward his master's interests, and, independently of the disagreeableness of being kicked off at the cover side, not being 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 under his arm — being the first step to everything. Accordingly, Mr. Leather had the horse saddled and accoutred as quietly as possible — his warm clothing put over the saddle immediately, and everything kept as much in the usual course as possible, so that the noble animal's temper might not be ruffled by unaccustomed 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 redoubtable 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 he was on the occasion of his trial, the horse seemed to E 44 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 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. " I lenow" replied Mr. Leather, with a wink. Just then the horse began to plunge, and paw, and give symp- toms 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 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 are not sure that he did not go rather out of his way to get them in, but that is neither 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 Beauchamp'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 right-thinking man to ride over a fellow in such a pair," observed his friend, Mr. Cox, who was breakfasting with him. " Ride 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. MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 45 " 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 break- fasts, 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 Borrowdon-road, as the hunts- man and whips proceeded 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 earshot, a single " yooi doit! — Arrogant!" — or " here again, Brusher /" "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 bctch ! " 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 estimation 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 suspi- cious 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? 46 MB. SPONGE'S SBOBTING TOUB. 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 in less than five minutes from the halting of the hounds by the Windmill, the various roads leading up to it emit dark-coated grooms, who, dismounting, proceed to brush off the mud sparks, and rectify any little derangement the horses or their accoutre- ments may have contracted on the journey. Presently Mr. Sponge, and such other gentlemen 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 fiys, with furs and flaunting feathers. Presently the foremost riders begin to canter up the hill, when 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 and 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 innocent 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 pro- priety-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 unpunctual. 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 eager- ness 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 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 47 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, some- thing 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 of the head to Tom Towler, who forthwith whistled his hounds together, and attended by the whips, bustled from the scene. CHAPTER X. THE FIND, AND THE FINISH. EPPING HUNT, in its most palmy days could not equal the exhibition 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 neigh- bourhood, the infection quickly spread, and in less rlian a minute there was such a scene of rocking, and rearing, and kicking, and prancing, and neighing, etain liKKATGLN anc^ shooting over heads, and rolling over tails, and by manes, mingled with such screamings from the 48 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. ladies in the flys, 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 chestnut, with abundance of rings, racing martingale, and tackle generally, just turned tail on the crowd and ran off 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 proceeded to lie down, to the horror of his rider, Captain Greatgun, of the royal navy, who, feeling himself suddenly touch mother earth, thought he was going to be swallowed up alive, and 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 scream- ing 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 ; shake, shake, shake ; and carriages and cavalry got to Ribston 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 things. However, there they were. " Eu leu, in ! " cries old Tom, with a wave of his arm, finding he can no longer restrain the ardour of the pack as they approach, and thinking to save his credit, by appearing to direct. " Eu leu, in!" repeats he, with 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, hoist- ing his hat on a stick. At the magic sound, fear comes over some, joy over others, intense anxiety over all. What commotion ! MR. SPONGE AND HERCULES. MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUli. 49 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 important 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," discloses divers other sections struggling up in long drawn files, following 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 eyes of a sportsman. " F—o — o — r — rard ! " screams old Tom, flying the fence after them, followed by jealous jostling riders in scarlet and colours, 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 ease, 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 — rac- ing " to his hounds, either rather falls back to the field or the field draws upon him. At all events they get together somehow. 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 — o — o — r — rard! " screams old Tom, as he dives through the stiff fence and lands in the field outside the plantation. He 50 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. might have saved his breath, for the hounds were beating him as it was. Mr. Sponge bores through the same place, little aided, however, 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 atten- tion 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, con- trasts 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 " F — 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 I " 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 countryman 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 cutting whip high in air, with a "g — u — u — ur along ! do you think I " — 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 Whissen- dine 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 ?;««>," Ximrod added, " ivas too good to inquire" MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 51 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 everybody, could afford a little humanity, more especially 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. Spareneck, 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 uncommonly well soaked, and had to be held np 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 unfortunate 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 imprudence 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. According, he chuckled and laughed coo, though his jaws nearly refused their office, and kindly transferred the blame of the accident from the horse to himself. " He didn't put on steam 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 rounding the opposite hill, with his hounds clustered about his horse, with his mind conning over one of those imaginary runs that experienced huntsmen know so well how to tell, when there is no one to contradict them. Having quartered his ground to get at his old friend the bridge again, he just trotted up with well-assumed gaiety as Caingey Thornton 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, 52 MB. SBONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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, and the scent failed on the fallow, which gave him a chance ; but I held them on to the hedgerow beyond, where they hit it off like wildfire, and they never stopped again 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 undertone, 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." " 0/ie-and-twenty," interposed Tom, with a laudable anxiety for accuracy. " Ah ! one-and-twenty," rejoined Mr. Waffles. " I thought it would be somewhere thereabouts. Well, I suppose we've all had enough," 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 was 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 affairs. He saw that Mr. Sponge was a first-rate horseman, and also knew that nothing ingratiated one MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUR. 53 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 service- able 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 observe, 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 under- stood (by the uninitiated, at least) that hounds have no business to go home so long as any gentleman is inclined for a scurrey, no matter whether he has joined early or late. Mr. Waffles, on the contrary, was very easily satisfied, and never took the shine off a run with a kill by risking a subsequent defeat. Old Tom, though keen when others were keen, was not indifferent 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 winter 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 huntsman. " 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,'' 54 MR. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUR. replied Tom ; adding, " but, my word, he led us a dance afore we got there — up to Ditchington, 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 Heatberton 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 ! " repeated 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 of 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 Woolleybum. 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 somewhat grinding in his practice, did not profess to grind old people young again, and feeling he could do very little for the body corporate, directed his attention to amusing .lackey'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 information. " Nothin' particklar, I think, sir ; " adding, in an off-hand sort of way, " you've heard cf the greet run, I s'pose, sir ? " " Greatrun ! " exclaimed the octogenarian, as if it was a matter 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 occasional variations. He told it to all the " cousins in waiting ; " Jackey Thompson, of Carrington Ford ; Jackey MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 55 Thompson, of Houndesley ; Jackey Thompson, of the Mill ; and all the Bobs, Bills, Sams, Harries, and Peters, composing the respective litters ; — forgetting where he got it from, he nearly told it back to Lotion himself. We sometimes 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. CHAPTER XI. 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 praising 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 cal- culated 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. "I think he is," replied Sponge, rubbing some of the now dried sweat from his shoulder and 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. Waffles, taking a scented cigar from his mouth, and giving a steady sidelong stare at the horse. " Bought him in Leicestershire," replied Sponge. " He belonged F 60 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. to Lord Bullfrog, who didn't think him exactly up to his weight." " Up to his weight ! " exclaimed Mr. Caingey Thoruton, who had uow 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 arched 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 toadyimj match. " I never saw a finer lepper." " He flew many feet beyond the brook," observed Mr. Spareneck. 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 off the subject of the run, as from any real admira- tion 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 amende honoralle 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 penc/iant 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 careful, 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 mean- nesses they will resort to in order to get a little. We hear fellows flashing and talking in hundreds and thousands, who will do almost anything for a five-pound note. We have known men pretending to hunt countries at their own expense, and yet actually " living out of the hounds." Next to the accomplishment of that — apparently almost impossible feat — comes the dexterity required for living by horse-dealing. MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB. 57 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 bad 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 afford 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 ? " " All ! 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, whom I bought him of, is very fat — eats 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. " So he ought," replied Mr. Sponge ; " I gave a hatful of money for him — two hundred and fifty golden sovereigns, and 58 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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 contrary, 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 were to sell him, I wouldn't take a farthing under three 'underd for him — three 'underd guineas, mind, not * pun ds." " 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, mind 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. " Indeed, 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. MS. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. v.j CHAPTER XII. THE DEAL, AND THE DISASTER. DECORATED WITH A SKV-BLU1 IF people are inclined to deal, bargains can very soon be struck at idle watering- places, where any- thing in the shape of occupation is a godsend, and bar- gainers know where to find each other in a minute. Every- body 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 ? " Anstver. — "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 Grunton Villa, for I heard him order Jenkins's 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, floating 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," observed Mr. Thornton, who now sought Mr. Sponge out at the billiard-room. 60 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. "Why," observed Mr. Sponge, thoughtfully, "you know horse3 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 'stiff' than his cheque," observed Mr. Sponge, after a pause. " I could get a bit of stiff clone, but a cheque, you see — especially a post-dated one — is always objected to." " Well, I dare say that will make no difference," observed Mr. 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 be 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 cTindustrw, 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-corner'd 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, ns a line of scarlet-coated youths hung over the balcony of the Imperial Hotel, after breakfast and before mounting fur the day. Spareneck. — " No, that's for Tuesday. He wouldn't stand one to-day. What do you ride ? " Downley. — " Oh, I've a hack, one of Screwman's, Perpetual Motion they call him, because he never gets auy rest. That's him, I believe, with the lofty-actioned hind-legs," added he, pointing r» ■ ft I *± ' MR. WAFFLES AT MISS LOLLYPOP'S. MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. Gl to a weedy string-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 vci. " That's Mr. Sponge's," replied Spareneck, in a low tone, know- ing 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 England — in the ivorld, 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 bearing sofa-pillows and cushions to place on the balustrades, to loll at their ease, in imitation of the Coventry Club swells in Piccadilly. Then 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 Downley ; " 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 execution 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 herself. 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 observed, 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." 02 MB. SFONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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-humour. 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. " Whoat/ ! " roared Thornton, as his first dive at the stirrup missed, and was answered by a hearty kick out from the horse, the " luhoay " being given in a very different 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 Caiugey would have declined the horse's further acquaintance. As it was, he quickly repeated his attempt at the stirrup with the same sort of domineering " tvhoay," adding, as he landed in the saddle and snatched at the reins, " Do you think 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 effort 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. Eight through the window Hercules went, swiching through book muslins and bareges as he would through a bullfinch, and attempting 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 effort to turn him ; and when at length he got him hauled round, the horse was found to have decorated himself with a sky-blue visite 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 ^lass-doors. ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. G3 CHAPTER XIII. AN OLD FRIEND. PORTRAIT OF LORD BULLFI FOF.MLKLY 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, puffing 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," 124 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUli. retorted Jawleyford, nettled as well at the smoke as the observa- tion. "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 into 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-up's" or kicks could induce him to rise before he had gone through the whole ceremony. At length, with a mane full of gravel, a side well smeared, and a " Wilkinson & Kidd " sadly scratched, the ci-devant actor arose, much to 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 satisfied 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 they were wanted. Sponge presently overtook Mr. Jawleyford, who had been brought up by a gate, which he was making sundry ineffectual Briggs-like passes and efforts to open ; the gate and his horse seem- ing to have combined to prevent his getting through. Though an expert swordsman, he had never been able to accomplish, the art of opening a gate, especially one of those gingerly-balanced spring-snecked 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 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 125 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 follow," 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 four gingerbread stalls, a drove of cows and some sheep, form 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 the world ! The hounds did not come to Scrambleford 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, ;i period extending over the best part of a century, had he seen such a " sight of red coats " as mustered that morning at Scrambleford Green. It seemed as if there had been a sudden rising of sports- men. What brought them all out ? What brought Mr. Puffington, the master of the Hanby hounds, out ? What brought Blossom- nose again ? What Mr. Wake, Mr. Fossick, 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 ; and 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 fiat-fliped 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 126 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. Hook ; Mr. Slade, of Three-Burrow Hill ; and several others. Great 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. Washball 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 curve 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 looking, and staring 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 humbug!'''' " This boy'll be after one of the young ladies," observed Jack ; " not one of the writing chaps we thought he was." " Shouldn't wonder," replied Lord Scamperdale ; 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. " Pray 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 Jawleyford, 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 Scamperdale, putting his horse on a few steps to meet him as he came flourishing 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 MB. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOl/R. 127 fellow, one of the lest fellows I know, and has ashed 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's 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 manoeuvring the ceremony. " 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 Jawley- ford, " I'll tell you what I said about the dinner. Jack, here, told me the flag was flying ; and I said I only wish'd I'd known before, and I would certainly have proposed that Jack and I should dine with you, either to-day or to-morrow ; but unfor- tunately I'd engaged myself to my Lord Barker's not five minutes before." " Ah, my lord ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, throwing out bis hand and shrugging his shoulders as if in despair, " you tantalise me — you 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 Jawleyford 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 — haw — Jack — that's to say, Mr. Spraggon," replied 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 knowingly 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 Jawley- ford, 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 — hum — no ; — got no foxes." 128 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. " 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 Jawley- ford ; " 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, painstaking 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 ; mean- while, 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 on the scene. All the able- bodied 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. Jawleyford, 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 English- man 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 iu his sleeve at the idea of the pleasant evening Jack and Jawleyford ■would have together, occasionally 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 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 129 Old away to see "how thick Jawleyford was with my lord.' Blossomnose, who, we should observe, had slipped unperceived on Jawleyford'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. CHAPTEE XXIII. THE GREAT RUN. HIW LORDSHI Our hero having inveigled the brown under lee of an out- house 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 con- dition, 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. 130 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. " Oh, no," replied Jawleyford, tartly. " Oh, no — gentleman : man of property — " " I did not mean was he a mechanic," explained his lordship drily, " 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-rate man ! " replied Jawleyford ; " beat them all at Laverick Wells." " I thought so," observed his lordship ; adding to himself, " then Jack shall take the conceit out of him." " Jack ! " holloaed he over his shoulder to his friend, who was jogging a little behind ; " Jack I" 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 horsemen 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 exclamation from Jawleyford, of " Beautiful ! beautiful ! — never saw better hounds ! — can't be 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 — clcs, wind him ! T — 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-ho ! '" screamed Jawleyford, hoisting the Bumperkin Yeomanry cap in the air. " Tally-ho ! " repeated he, looking triumphantly round, as much as to say, " What a clever boy am I ! " " Hold your noise ! " roared Jack, who was posted a little below. MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 131 " 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 hadn't a tail," retorted Jawleyford, 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 — ic/c ! " 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 horse- men. 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 hunting 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 encounter 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 Jawleyford, and getting a good start. In the midst of these and similar preparations for the fray, up went a whip's cap at the lower 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 draw- ing the horse across the road to stop the progression of the field. "Hold hard, one minute!'1'' repeated Jack, standing erect in his stirrups, and menacing them with his whip (a most formidable one). " Whatever you do, pray let them get aAvay ! Pray don't spoil your own sport ! Pray remember they're his lordship's 132 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. hounds ! — that they cost him five-and-twenty underd — two thou- sand five underd a year ! And where, let me ax, with wheat down to nothing, would you get another, if he was to throw up ? " 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, "Now, ye tinkers, ive'll all start fair ! " Then there was such a scrimmage ! such jostling and elbowing among the jealous ones ; such ramming and cramming among the ea«:er ones ; such pardon-begging among the polite ones ; such spurting 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 patronising sort of way gentlemen do who encourage hounds for the sake of the manly spirit the sport engenders, 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 sail- ing away in their wake. " F-o-o-r-r-ard /" screamed Frosty face, 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 ! " screeched his lordship, thrusting his spectacles on to his nose. " Tivang — twang — twang" went the huntsman's deep-sounding horn. " Tiveet — f iveet — Vwect" 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 off. " 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. MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TO UP. 133 " Y-o-o-nder he goes ! " at last cried Frosty, taking off his cap as he viewed the fox, some half-mile ahead, stealing away round the side of Newington hill. " 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 Newington 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 trowsers, 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 ran four miles in twenty minutes; pretty good going anywhere except upon paper, where they always go unnaturally fast. However, there 134 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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 unwholesome-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. 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 tearing 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 excitement. " Hold hard ! " thundered Jack. Sponge was 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 out, 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 aggra- vatin' quadruped of yours ? " " Oh, you pestilential son of a pontry-maid ! " screeched his lordship, 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 folks, instead of killing hounds in this wholesale way ? " roared Jack ; an enquiry that set him foaming again. " Oh, you unsighty, sanctified, idolatrous, Bagnigge - Wells coppersmith, 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-year upon 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 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 135 tongue, and filling the air with joyful melody. Away they swept like a hurricane. " F-o-o-rard ! " was again the cry. " Hang it, Jack," exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, laying his hand on his double's shoulder, as they galloped alongside of each other — " Hang it, Jack, see if you can't sarve out this unrighteous, mahogany-booted, rattlesnake. Do if you die for it ! — I'll bury your remainders genteelly — patent coffin with brass nails, all to yourself — put Frosty and all the fellows in black, and raise a white marble monument to your memory, declaring you were the most spotless virtuous man under the sun." "Let me off dining with Jaw, and I'll do my best," replied Jack. "Bone/" screamed his lordship, flourishing his right arm in the air, as he flew oyer 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, hat in hand, mopping, and puffing, and turning their red perspiring faces to the wind. " Poough" gasped one, as if he was going to be sick ; " Puff," went another ; " Oh ! but its 'ot ! " exclaimed a third, pulling off his limp neckcloth ; " Wonder if there's any ale hereabouts," cried a fourth ; " Terrible run ! " observed a fifth ; " Ten miles at least," gasped another. Mean- while 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, resumed 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 pebbles 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 Gaspar 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 lord- ship having got his second horse at the turn, was ready for the tussle, and plied away vigorously, riding, as usual, with all his 136 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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. " Buck under, Jack ! duck under I " screamed his lordship, as Jack's head rose to the surface. " Duck under! you'll have it full directly ! " added he, eyeing Sponge and the rest coming up. Sponge, however, saw the splash, and turning a little lower down, 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 disposed 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, flat, rather inviting-looking piece of ground, instead of crossing it, Sponge, thinking to get a niche, rode to it ; and the " deeper and deeper still " sort of flounder 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. " That's 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 lobbing after on foot, " A, sir ! but ye should niver set tee to ride through sic a place as that I " ^ \ f : MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 137 Sponge having generously rewarded the man with a fourpenny piece, for catching his horse and scraping the thick of the mud otf him, again mounted, and cantered round the point he should at first have gone ; but his chance was out — the further he went, the further he was left behind ; till at last, pulling up, he stood watching the diminishing pack, rolling like marbles over the top of Botherjade Hill, followed by his lordship hugging his horse round the neck as he went, and the huntsman and whips leading and driving theirs up before 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 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. lake 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 horsemen 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. Puffington, 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 was 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 acquaintance 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. Puffington 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 gentleman, 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. 138 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. " 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." " 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 complimented 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 chaplain, old Blossomnose." "Ah, I saw him," observed Mr. Sponge. " You should come and see my 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 understand. " I'll be down upon you, as the extinguisher said to the rushlight," observed Mr. Sponge. MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUE. 139 "Z>o," said Mr. Puffington ; "come before the frost. Where are you staying now ? " " I'm at Jawleyford's," replied our friend. " Indeed ! — Jawleyford's, are you ? " repeated Mr. Puffington. " Good 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, Jawleyford 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 tell you where Hanby House is." '■ 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 finer animals than those of old Scamperdale's — steady, true hunting hounds, that won't go a yard without a scent — none of your jealous, flashy, frantic devils, that will tear over half a town- ship 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 brickfields, 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 indifference, 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," spluttered 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 M 140 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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. " 1 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. CHAPTER XXIV. LORD SCAMPERDALE AT HOME. E fear our fair friends will expect something gay from the above heading — lamps and flambeaux outside, fiddlers, feathers, and farters in. Nothing of the sort, fair ladies — nothing of the sort. Lord Scamperdale "at home," simply means that his lordship was not out hunting, 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, f.v^ft A- ?w ILVER-MOUNTED SPECTACLES. MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 141 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, badger-baiting and otter-hunting, up to the noble sport of fox-hunting itself, 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 thousand, a-year. 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 vertu — a great traveller and collector of coins, pictures, statues, marbles, and curiosities generally — things that are very dear to buy, but oftentimes extremely cheap when sold ; and, having collected 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 first- rate 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 m 2 142 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 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, perhaps, may make me live ; and therefore," said he, "perhaps I'd better 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 him- self by living. So he had the house put away in brown Holland, the carpets roUed up, the pictures covered, the statues shrouded in muslin, the cabinets 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 distance 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 county 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 somehow never get old. Indeed, barring the change from brown to grey of his short stubby whiskers, which he trained with great care into a curve almost on to his cheek-bone, he looked very little older at the period of which 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 con- verted 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 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 143 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 termination 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 filled with hunting-horns, odd spurs, knots of whipcord, piles of halfpence, lucifer match-boxes, gun-charges, and such like miscellaneous articles. His lordship's fare 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 fore- going 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 bedrooms while dressing ; and, dinner being announced by the time they were ready, they had fallen to, and applied themselves diligently to the victuals, and now very considerately unbuttoned 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 him, 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 144 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. last all four went at once, like the limbs of a Peter Waggey, when, throwing himself forward with a violent effort, 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 ! " HIS LORDSHIP AND JA continued he. " I'm wretched ! " added he, slapping his knees. " Vm perfectly miserable.'" he concluded, with a strong emphasis on the " miserable." " What's the matter?" asked Jack, who was half asleep himself. " Oh, that Mister 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. MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUR. 145 '•' 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 awkward customer — a terrible thorn in ray 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 coffin you were so good as to promise me." " You did your work ivell" 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." " I'm your man," replied Jack. " I never was so bothered with a fellow in my life," observed his lordship. " Captain Topsawyer was bad enough, and always pressed far too close on the hounds, but he would pull up at a check ; but this rusty booted 'Domination seems to think the hounds are kept for him to ride over. He must be got rid of somehow," repeated his lordship ; " for we shall have no peace while he's here." " If he's after either of the Jawley girls, he'll be bad to shake off," observed Jack. "That's just the point," replied his lordship, quaffing off his gin with the air of a man most thoroughly thirsty ; " that's just the point," repeated he, setting down his tumbler. " I think if he is, I could cook his goose for him." " How so ? " asked Jack, drinking off his glass. "Why, I'll tell you," replied his lordship, replenishing his tumbler, and passing the old gilt-labelled blue bottle over to Jack ; " you see, Frosty's a cunning old file, picks up all the news and gossip of the country when he's out at exercise with the hounds, or in going to cover — knows everything ! — who licks his wife, and whose wife licks him — who's after such a girl, and so on ; — and he's found out somehow that this Mi. What's-his-name isn't the man of metal he's passing for." " Indeed," exclaimed Jack, raising his eyebrows, and squinting his eyes inside out ; Jack's opinion of a man being entirely regu- lated by his purse. " It's a fact," said his lordship, with a knowing shake of his head. " As we were toddling home with the hounds, I said to UH MB. SPONGE'S SFOETING TOUR. Frosty, ' I hope that Mr. Something's comfortable in his bath ' — meaning Gobblecow Bog, which he rode into. ' Why,' said Frosty, ' it's no great odds what comes of such rubbage as that.' Now, Frosty, you know, in a general way, is a most polite, fairspoken man, specially before Christmas, when he begins to look for the tips ; and as we are not much troubled with strangers, thanks to your sensible way of handling them, I thought Frosty would have made the most of this natural son of Dives, and been as polite to him as possible. However, he was evidently no favourite of Frosty's. So I just asked — not that one likes to be familiar with servants, you know, but still this brown-booted beggar is enough to excite one's curiosity and make any one go out of one's way a little, — so I just asked Frosty what he knew about him. ' All over the left,' said Frosty, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, and looking as knowing as a goose with one eye ; ' all over the left,' repeated he. ' What's over the left ? ' said I. ' Why, this Mr. Sponge,' said he. ' How so ? ' asked I. 'Why,' said Frosty, ' he's come gammonin' down here that he's a great man — full of money, and horses, and so on ; but it's all my eye, he's no more a great man than I am.' " " The deuce ! " exclaimed Jack, who had sat squinting and listening intently as his lordship proceeded. " 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 every- thing, after they are told. " ' Well, how do you know, Jack ? ' said I to Frosty. ' Oh I knows,1 replied he, as if he was certain about it. However, I wasn't satisfied without knowing too ; and, as we kept jogging on, we came to the old Coach and Horses, and I said to Jack, ' We may as well have a drop of something to warm us.' So we halted, and had glasses of brandy apiece, whips and all ; and then, as we jogged on again, I just said to Jack, casually, ' Did you say it was Mr. Blossomnose told you about old Brown Boots ? ' 'No — Blossomnose — no,'' replied he, as if Blossom never had anything half so good to tell ; ' it was a young woman,' said he, in an undertone, ' 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 his great tartan trouser 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 pause, during which he ran the facts through his mind, and thought they could not be much ruder to Sponge than they had been. " What can we make of it ? " said he. " The fellow can ride, and we can't prevent him hunting ; and his having nothing only makes him less careful of his neck." MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 147 4< Why, that was just what I thought," replied Lord Scamper- dale, taking- another tumbler of gin ; " that was just what I thought — the fellow can ride, and we can't prevent him ; and just as I settled that in my sleep, I thought I saw him come staring along, with his great brown horse's head in the air, and crash right a-top of old Lablache. But I see my way clearer with him now. But help yourself," continued his lordship, passing the gin-bottle over to Jack, feeling that what he had to say required a little recommendation. " I think I can turn Frosty's information to some account." " I don't see how," observed Jack, replenishing his glass. " / do, though," replied his lordship ; " but I must have your assistance." " "Well, anything in moderation," replied Jack, who had had to turn his hand to some very queer jobs occasionally. " I'll tell you what /think," observed his lordship. "I think there are two ways of getting rid of this haughty Philistine — this unclean spirit — this 'bomination of a man. I think, in the first place, if old Chatterbox knew that he had nothing, he would very soon bow him out of Jawleyford Court ; and, in the second, that we might get rid of him by buying his horses." "Well," replied Jack, " I don't know but you're right. Chatter- box would soon wash his hands of him, as he has done of many promising young gentleman before, if he has nothing ; but people differ so in their ideas of what nothing consists of." Jack spoke feelingly, for he was a gentleman who was generally spoken of as having nothing a-year, paid quarterly ; and yet he was in the enjoyment of an annuity of sixty pounds. " Oh, why, when I say he has nothing," replied Lord Scamper- dale, " I mean that he has not what Jawleyford, who is a bumptious sort of an ass, would consider sufficient to make him a fit match for one of his daughters. He may have a few hundreds a year, but Jaw, I'm sure, will look at nothing under thousands." " Oh, certainly not," replied Jack ; " there's no doubt about that." " Well, then, you see, I was thinking," observed Lord Scamper- dale, eyeing Jack's countenance, " that if you would dine there to-morrow, as we fixed — " " Oh, dash it ! I couldn't do that," interrupted Jack, drawing himself together in his chair like a horse refusing a leap ; "I couldn't do that — I couldn't dine with Jaw not at no price." " Why not ? " asked Lord Scamperdale ; " he'll give you a good dinner— fricassees, and all sorts of good things ; far finer fare than you have here." " That may all be," replied Jack, " but I don't want none of his food. I hate the sight of the fellow, and detest him fresh every 148 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. time I see him. Consider, too, you said you'd let meoff if I sarved out Sponge ; and I'm sure I did my best. I led him over some awful places, and then what a ducking I got ! My ears are full of water still," added he, laying his head on one side to try to run it out. "You did well," observed Lord Scamperdale — "you did well, and I fully intended to let you off, but then I didn't know what a beggar I had to deal with. Come, say you'll go, that's a good fellow." " Couldn't" replied Jack, squinting frightfully. " You'll oblige me," observed Lord Scamperdale. "Ah, well, I'd do anything to oblige your lordship," replied Jack, thinking of the corner in the will. " I'd do anything to oblige your lordship ; but the fact is, sir, I'm not prepared to go. I've lost my specs — I've got no swell clothes — I can't go in the Stunner tartan," added he, eyeing his backgammon-board-looking chest, and diving his hands into the capacious pockets of his shooting-jacket. " I'll manage all that," replied his lordship ; " I've got a pair of splendid silver-mounted spectacles in the Indian cabinet in the drawing-room, that I've kept to be married in. I'll lend them to you, and there's no saying but you may captivate Miss Jawleyford GOOD 2UGHT ! in them. Then as to clothes, there's my new damson-coloured velvet Avaistcoat with the steel buttons, and my fine blue coat with the velvet collar, silk facings, and our button on it ; altogether I'll rig you out and make you such a swell as there's no saying but Miss Jawleyford'll offer to you, by way of consoling herself for the loss of Sponge." MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 149 " I'm afraid you'll have to make a settlement for me, then," observed our friend. " Well, you are a good fellow, Jack," said his lordship, " and I'd as soon make one on you as on any one." " I 'spose you'll send me on wheels ? " observed Jack. " In course," replied his lordship. " Dog-cart — name behind — Right Honourable the Earl of Scamperdale — lad with cockade — everything genteel : " adding, " by Jove, they'll take you for me ! " Having settled all these matters, and arranged how the informa- tion was to be communicated to Jawleyford, the friends at length took their block-tin candlesticks, with their cauliflower-headed candles, and retired to bed. CHAPTER XXV. MR. SPRAGGON'S EMBASSY. HEN Mr. Sponge re- turned, all dirtied and stained, from the chase, he found his host sit- ting in an arm-chair over the study fire, dressing-gowned and slippered, with a poc- ket-handkerchief tied about his head, sham- ming illness, prepara- tory to putting off Mr. Spraggon. To be sure he played rather a bet- ter knife and fork at dinner than is usual with persons with that peculiar ailment ; but Mr. Sponge, being very hungry, and well at- tended to by the fair, — moreover, not sus- pecting any ulterior design, — just ate and jabbered away as usual, with the exception of omitting his sick papa-in-law in the round of his observations. So the dinner passed over. " Bring me a tumbler and some hot water and sugar," said Mr. MR. JAWIXYFokli's I'ECILIAE AILMENT. 150 ME. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUR. Jawleyford, pressing his head against his hand, as Spigot, having placed some bottle ends on the table, and reduced the glare of light, was preparing to retire. " Bring me some hot water and sugar," said he ; " and tell Harry he will have to go over to Lord Scamperdale's, with a note, the first thing in the morning." The young ladies looked at each other, and then at mamma, who, seeing what was wanted, looked at papa, and asked " if he was going to ask Lord Scamperdale over ? " Amelia, among her many " presentiments," had long enjoyed one that she was destined to be Lady Scamperdale. " No — over — no," snapped Jawleyford ; " what should put that in your head ? " " Oh, I thought as Mr. Sponge was here, you might think it a good time to ask him." " His lordship knows he can come when he likes," replied Jaw- leyford ; adding, " it's to put that Mr. John Spraggon off, who thinks he may do the same." " Mr. Spraggon ! " exclaimed both the young ladies. " Mr. Spraggon ! — what should set him here ? " " What, indeed ? " asked Jawleyford. " Poor man ! I dare say there's no harm in him," observed Mrs. Jawleyford, who was always ready for anybody. " No good either," replied Jawleyford, — " at all events, we'll be just as well without him. You know him, don't you ? " added he, turning to Sponge — " great coarse man in spectacles." " Oh yes, I know him," replied Sponge ; " a great ruffian he is, too," added he. "One ought to be in robust health to encounter such a man," observed Jawleyford, " and have time to get a man or two of the same sort to meet him. We can do nothing with such a man. I can't understand how his lordship puts up with such a fellow." " Finds him useful, I suppose," observed Mr. Sponge. Spigot presently appeared with a massive silver salver, bearing tumblers, sugar, lemon, nutmeg, and other implements of negus. "Will you join me in a little wine-and-water ? " asked Jawley- ford, pointing to the apparatus and bottle ends, " or will you have a fresh bottle ? — plenty in the cellar," added he, with a flourish of his hand, though he kept looking steadfastly at the negus-tray. " Oh — why — I'm afraid — I doubt— I think I should hardly be able to do justice to a bottle single-handed," replied Sponge. "Then have negus," said Jawleyford; "you'll find it very refreshing ; medical men recommend it after violent exercise in preference to wine. But pray have wine if you prefer it." " Ah — well, I'll finish it off with a little negus, perhaps," replied Sponge ; adding, " meanwhile the ladies, I dare say, would like a little wine." ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 151 " The ladies drink white wine — sherry " — rejoined Jawleyford, determined to make a last effort to save his port. " However, you can have a bottle of port to yourself, you know." " Yery well," said Sponge. "One condition I must attach," said Mr. Jawleyford, "which is, that you finish the bottle. Don't let us have any waste, you know." " I'll do my best," said Sponge, determined to have it ; where- upon Mr. Jawleyford growled the word "Port" to the butler, who had been witnessing his master's efforts to direct attention to the negus. Thwarted in his endeavour, Jawley ford's headache became worse, and the ladies, seeing how things were going, beat a precipitate retreat, leaving our hero to his fate. " I'll leave a note on my writing-table when I go to bed," observed Jawleyford to Spigot, as the latter was retiring after depositing the bottle ; " and tell Harry to start with it early in the morning, so as to get to "Woodmansterne about breakfast — nine o'clock, or so, at latest," added he. " Yes, sir," replied Spigot, withdrawing with an air. Sponge then wanted to narrate the adventures of the day ; but, independently of Jawleyford's natural indifference for hunting, he was too much out of humour at being done out of his wine to lend a willing ear ; and after sundry "hums" "indeeds," " sos," &c, Sponge thought he might as well think the run over to himself as trouble to put it into words, whereupon a long silence ensued, in- terrupted only by the tinkling of Jawleyford's spoon against his glass, and the bumps of the decanter as Sponge helped himself to his wine. At length Jawleyford, having had as much negus as he wanted, excused himself from further attendance, under the plea of in- creasing illness, and retired to his study to concoct his letter to Jack. At first he was puzzled how to address him. If he had been Jack Spraggon, living in old Mother Nipcheese's lodgings at Star- field, as he was when Lord Scamperdale took him by the hand, he would have addressed him as " Dear Sir," or perhaps in the third person, " Mr. Jawleyford presents his compliments to Mr. Sprag- gon," &c. ; but, as my lord's right-hand man, Jack carried a cer- tain weight, and commanded a certain influence, that he would never have acquired of himself. Jawleyford spoilt three sheets of cream-laid satin-wove note- paper (crested and ciphered) before he pleased himself with a beginning. First he had it " Dear Sir," which he thought looked too stiff ; then he had it " My dear Sir," which he thought looked too loving ; next he had it " Dear Spraggon," which he considered as too familiar ; and then he tried " Dear Mr. Spraggon," which he thought would do. Thus he wrote : — 152 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. "Dear Mr. Spraggon, — / am sorry to be obliged to put you off ; but since I came in from hunting I have been attacked ivith influenza, which will incapacitate me from the enjoyment of society at least for two or three days. I therefore think the kindest thing I can do is to write to put you off ; and, in the hopes of seeing both you and my lord at no distant day, " I remain, dear sir, yours sincerely, "Charles James Jawleyford, " To John Spraggon, Esq., " Jawleyford Court. &c. &c. &c." This he sealed with the great seal of Jawleyford Court — a coat of arms containing innumerable quarterings and heraldic devices. Having then refreshed his memory by looking through a bundle of bills, and selected the most threatening of the lawyers' letters to answer the next day, he proceeded to keep up the delusion of sickness, by retiring to sleep in his dressing-room. Our readers will now have the kindness to accompany us to Lord Scamperdale's : time, the morning after the foregoing. " Love me, love my dog," being a favourite saying of his lord- ship's, he fed himself, his friends, and his hounds, on the same meal. Jack and he were busy with two great basins full of por- ridge, which his lordship diluted with milk, while Jack stirred his up with hot dripping, when the put-off note arrived. His lord- ship was still in a complete suit of the great backgammon-board looking red-and-yellow Stunner tartan ; but as Jack was going from home, he had got himself into a pair of his lordships yellow- ochre leathers and new top-boots, while he wore the Stunner jacket and waistcoat to save his lordship's Sunday green cut-away with metal buttons, and canary-coloured waistcoat. His lordship did not eat his porridge with his usual appetite, for he had had a dis- turbed night, Sponge having appeared to him in his dreams in all sorts of forms and predicaments ; now jumping a-top of him — now upsetting Jack — now riding over Frosty-face — now crashing among his hounds ; and he awoke, fully determined to get rid of him by fair means or foul. Buying his horses did not seem so good a speculation as blowing his credit at Jawleyford Court, for, inde- pendently of disliking to part with his cash, his lordship remem- bered that there were other horses to get, and he should only be giving Sponge the means of purchasing them. The more, how- ever, he thought of the Jawleyford project, the more satisfied he was that it would do ; and Jack and he were in a sort of rehearsal, wherein his lordship personated Jawleyford, and was showing Jack (who was only a clumsy diplomatist) how to draw up to the sub- ject of Sponge's pecuniary deficiencies, when the dirty old butler came in with Jawleyford's note. MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 153 " "What's here ? " exclaimed his lordship, fearing from its smartness, that it was from a lady. " What's here ? " repeated he, as he inspected the direction. "0, it's for you!'''' exclaimed he, chucking it over to Jack, considerably relieved by the discovery. " Me ! " replied Jack. " Who can be writing to me ? " said he squinting his eyes inside out at the seal. He opened it : " Jawley- ford Court," read he. " Who the deuce can be writing to me from Jawleyford Court when I'm going there ? " " A put-off, for a guinea ! " exclaimed his lordship. " Hope so," muttered Jack. " Hope not" replied his lordship. " It is ! " exclaimed Jack, reading, " Dear Mr. Spraggon," and so on. " The humbug ! " muttered Lord Scamperdale ; adding, " I'll be bound he's got no more influenza than I have." "Well," observed Jack, sweeping a red cotton handkerchief, with which he had been protecting his leathers, off into his pocket, " there's an end of that." " Don't go so quick," replied his lordship, ladling in the porridge. " Quick I " retorted Jack ; " why, what can you do ? " " Bo I why, go to be sure," replied his lordship. " How can I go," asked Jack, " when the sinner's written to put me off? " " Nicely," replied his lordship, "nicely. I'll just send word back by the servant that you had started before the note arrived, but that you shall have it as soon as you return ; and you just cast up there as if nothing had happened." So saying, his lordship took hold of the whipcord-pull and gave the bell a peal. " There's no beating you," observed Jack. Bags now made his appearance again. " Is the servant here that brought this note ? " asked his lordship, holding it up. " Yes, me lord," replied Bags. " Then tell him to tell his master, with my compliments, that Mr. Spraggon had set off for Jawleyford Court before it came, but that he shall have it as soon as he returns — you understand f " " Yes, me lord," replied Bags, looking at Jack supping up the fat porridge, and wondering how the he would go down with Harry, who was then discussing his master's merits and a horn of small beer with the lad who was going to drive Jack. Jawleyford Court was twenty miles from Woodmansterne as the crow flies, and any distance anybody liked to call it by the road. The road, indeed,, would seem to have been set out with a view of getting as many hills and as little level ground over which a traveller could make play as possible ; and where it did not lead over the tops of the highest hills, it wound round their bases, in 154 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB. such little, vexatious, up-and-down, wavy dips as completely to do away with all chance of expedition. The route was not along one continuous trust, but here over a bit of turnpike and there over a bit of turnpike, with ever and anon long interregnums of township roads, repaired in the usual primitive style with mud and soft field-stones, that turned up like flitches of bacon. A man would travel from London to Exeter by rail in as short a time, and with far greater ease, than he would drive from Lord Scamperdale's to Jawleyford Court. His lordship being aware of this fact, and thinking, moreover, it was no use trashing a good horse over such roads, had desired Frosty face to put an old spavined grey mare, that he had bought for the kennel, into the dog-cart, and out of which, his lordship thought, if he could get a day's work or two, she would come all the cheaper to the boiler. " That's a good-shaped beast," observed his lordship, as she now came hitching round to the door ; " I really think she would make a cover hack." " Sooner you ride her thau me," replied Jack, seeing his lord- ship was coming the dealer over him — praising the shape when he could say nothing for the action. " Well, but she'll take you to Jawleyford Court as quick as the best of them," rejoined his lordship ; adding, " the roads are wretched, and Jaw's stables are a disgrace to humanity — might as well put a horse in a cellar." " Well," observed Jack, retiring from the parlour window to his little den along the passage, to put the finishing touch to his toilet — the green cut-away and buff waistcoat, which he further set off with a black satin stock — " Well," said he, " needs must when a certain gentleman drives." He presently re-appeared full fig, rubbing a fine new eight-and- sixpenny flat-brimmed hat round and round with a substantial puce-coloured bandana. " Now for the specs ! " exclaimed he, with the gaiety of a man in his Sunday's best, bound on a holiday trip. " Now for the silver specs ! " repeated he. " Ah, true," replied his lordship ; " I'd forgot the specs." (He hadn't, only he thought his silver-mounted ones would be safer in his keeping than in Jack's.) " I'd forgot the specs. However, never mind, you shall have these," said he, taking his tortoise- shell-rimmed, ones off" his nose and handing them to Jack. "You promised me the silver ones," observed our friend Jack, who wanted to be smart. " Did I ? " replied his lordship ; " I declare I'd forgot. Ah, yes, I believe I did," added he, with an air of sudden enlighten- ment,— " the pair up stairs ; but how the deuce to get at them I don't know, for the key of the Indian cabinet is locked in the old MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 155 oak press in the still-room, and the key of the still-room is locked away in the linen-press in the green lumber-room at the top of the house, and the key of the green lumber-room is in a drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe in the Star-Chamber, and the — " "Ah, well ; never mind," grunted Jack, interrupting the laby- rinth of lies. " I dare say these will do, — I dare say these will do," putting them on ; adding, " Now, if you'll lend me a shawl for my neck, and a Macintosh, my name shall be Walker." " Better make it Trotter," replied his lordship, " considering the distance you have to go." " Good," said Jack, mounting and driving away. " It will be a blessing if we get there," observed Jack to the liveried stable-lad, as the old bag of bones of a mare went hitching and limping away. " Oh, she can go when she's warm," replied the lad, taking her across the ears with the point of the whip. The wheels followed merrily over the sound, hard road through the park, and the gentle though almost imperceptible fall of the ground giving an impetus to the vehicle, they bowled away as if they had four of the soundest, freshest legs in the world before them, instead of nothing but a belly-band between them and eternity. When, however, they cleared the noble lodge and got upon the unscraped mud of the Deepdebt turnpike, the pace soon slackened, and, instead of the gig running away with the old mare, she was fairly brought to her collar. Being a game one, however, she struggled on with a trot, till at length, turning up the deeply- spurlinged clayey-bottomed cross-road between Rookgate and Clamley, it was all she could do to drag the gig through the holding mire. Bump, bump, jolt, jolt, creak, creak, went the vehicle, Jack now diving his elbow into the lad's ribs, the lad now diving his into Jack's ; both now threatening to go over on the same side, and again both nearly chucked on to the old mare's quarters. A sharp, cutting sleet, driving pins and needles directly in their faces, further disconcerted our travellers. Jack felt acutely for his new eight-and-sixpenny hat, it being the only article of dress he had on of his own. Long and tedious as was the road, weak and jaded as was the mare, and long as Jack stopped at Starfield, he yet reached Jaw- leyford Court before the messenger Harry. As our friend Jawleyford was stamping about his study anathematising a letter he had received from the solicitor to the directors of the Doembrown and Sinkall Railway, informing him that they were going to indulge in the winding-up act, he chanced to look out of his window just as the contracted limits of a winter's day were drawing the first folds of night's muslin curtain over the landscape, when he espied a gig drawn by a white horse, N 156 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. with a dot-and-go-one sort of action, hopping its way up th<> slumpey avenue. " That's Buggins the bailiff," exclaimed he to himself, as the recollection of an unanswered lawyer's letter flashed across his mind ; and he was just darting off to the bell to warn Spigot not to admit any one, when the lad's cockade standing in relief against the sky- line, caused him to pause and gaze again at the unwonted apparition. " Who the deuce can it be ? " asked he of himself, looking at his watch, and seeing it was a quarter past four. " It surely can't be my lord, or that Jack Spraggon coming after all ? " added he, drawing out a telescope and opening a lancet-window. " Spraggon as I live ! " exclaimed he as he caught Jack's harsh, spectacled features, and saw him titivating his hair and arranging his collar and stock as he approached. " Well, that beats everything ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, burning with rage, as he fastened the window again. He stood for a few seconds transfixed to the spot, not knowing what on earth to do. At last resolution came to his aid, and, rushing up stairs to his dressing-room, he quickly divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, and slipped on a dressing-gown and night-cap. He then stood, door in hand, listening for the arrival. He could just hear the gig grinding under the portico, and distinguish Jack's gruff voice saying to the servant from the top of the steps — " We'll start directly after breakfast, mind." A tremendous peal of the bell immediately followed, convulsing the whole house, for nobody had seen the vehicle approaching, and the establishment had fallen into the usual state of undress torpor that intervenes between calling hours and dinner-time. The bell not being answered as quickly as Jack expected, he just opened the door himself ; and when Spigot arrived, with such a force as he could raise at the moment, Jack was in the act of " peeling " himself, as he called it. " What time do we dine ? " asked he, with the air of a man with the entree. " Seven o'clock, my lord — that's to say, sir — that's to say, my lord," for Spigot really didn't know whether it was Jack or his master. " Seven o'clock /" muttered Jack. " What the deuce is the use of dinin' at such an hour as that in winter ? " Jack and my lord always dined as soon as they got home from hunting. Jack, having got himself out of his wraps, and run his bristles backwards with a pocket-comb, was ready for presen- tation. " AVhat name shall I enounce ? " asked Mr. Spigot, fearful of committing himself before the ladies. "Mister Spraggon, to be sure," exclaimed Jack, thinking. SPRAUOON'S EMBASSY TO JAWLEYFORD COURT. >-2 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 157 because he knew who he was, that everybody else ought to know too. Spigot then led the way to the music-room. The peal at the bell had caused a suppressed commotion in the apartment. Buried in the luxurious depths of a well-cushioned low chair, Mr. Sponge sat, " Mogg " in hand, with a toe cocked up, now dipping leisurely into his work — now whispering some- thing sweet into Amelia's ear, who sat with her crochet-work at his side ; while Emily played the piano, and Mrs. Jawleyford kept in the background, in the discreet way mothers do when there is a little business going on. The room was in that happy state of misty light that usually precedes the entrance of candles — a light that no one likes to call darkness, lest their eyes might he supposed to be failing. It is a convenient light, however, for a timid stranger, especially where there are not many footstools set to trip him up — an exemption, we grieve to say, not accorded to every one. Though Mr. Spraggon was such a cool, impudent fellow with men, he was the most awkward, frightened wretch among ladies that ever was seen. His conversation consisted principally of coughing. " Hem ! " — cough — " yes, mum," — hem — cough, cough — " the day," — hem — cough — " mum, is " — hem — cough — " very," — hem— cough — " mum, cold." But we will introduce him to our family circle. " Mr. Spraggon ! " exclaimed Spigot, in a tone equal to the one in which Jack had announced himself in the entrance ; and forthwith there was such a stir in the twilit apartment — such suppressed exclamations of — " Mr. Spraggon ! — Mr. Spraggon ! What can bring him here ? " Our traveller's creaking boots and radiant leathers eclipsing the sombre habiliments of Mr. Spigot, Mrs. Jawleyford quickly rose from her Pembroke writing-desk, and proceeded to greet him. " My daughters I think you know, Mr. Spraggon ; also Mr. Sponge ? Mr. Spraggon," continued she, with a wave of her hand to where our hero was ensconced in his form, in case they should not have made each other's speaking acquaintance. The young ladies rose, and curtsied prettily ; while Mr. Sponge gave a sort of backward hitch of his head as he sat in his chair, as much as to say, "I know as much of Mr. Spraggon as I want." "Tell your master Mr. Spraggon is here," added Mrs. Jawley- ford to Spigot, as that worthy was leaving the room. " It's a cold day, Mr. Spraggon ; won't you come near the fire ?" continued Mrs. Jawleyford, addressing our friend, who had come to a full stop just under the chandelier in the centre of the room. 158 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. " Hem — cough — hem — thank ye, mum," muttered Jack. " I'm not — hem — cough — cold, thank ye, mum." His face and hands were purple notwithstanding. "How is my Lord Scamperdale ?" asked Amelia, who had a strong inclination to keep in with all parties. " Hem — cough — hem — my lord — that's to say my lady — hem — cough — I mean to say, my lord's pretty well, thank ye," stuttered Jack. " Is he coming ? " asked Amelia. " Hem — cough — hem — my lord's — hem — not well — cough — no — hem — I mean to say — hem — cough — my lord's gone — hem— to dine — cough — hem — with his — cough — friend Lord Bubbley Jock — hem — cough — I mean Barker — cough." Jack and Lord Scamperdale were so in the habit of calling his lordship by this nickname, that Jack let it slip, or rather cough out, inadvertently. In due time Spigot returned, with "Master's compliments, and he was very sorry but he was so unwell that he was quite unable to see any one." " Oh, dear ! " exclaimed Mrs. Jawleyford. " Poor pa ! " lisped Amelia. " What a pity ! " observed Mr. Sponge. "I must go and see him," observed Mrs. Jawleyford, hurrying off. " Hem — cough — hem — hope he's not much — hem — damaged ? " observed Jack. The old lady being thus got rid of, and Jawleyford disposed of — apparently for the night — Mr. Spraggon felt more comfortable, and presently yielded to Amelia's entreaties to come near the fire and thaw himself. Spigot brought candles, and Mr. Sponge sat moodily in his chair, alternately studying Mogg's " Cab Fares " — " Old Bailey, Newgate-street, to or from the Adelphi, the Terrace, Is. Qd. ; Admiralty, 2s. ; " and so on ; and hazarding promiscuous sidelong sort of observations, that might be taken up by Jack or not, as he liked. He seemed determined to pay Mr. Jack off for his out-of-door impudence. Amelia, on the other hand, seemed desirous of making up for her suitor's rudeness, and kept talking to Jack with an assiduity that perfectly astonished her sister, who had always heard her speak of him with the utmost abhorrence. Mrs. Jawleyford found her husband in a desperate state of excitement, his influenza being greatly aggravated by Harry having returned very drunk, with the mare's knees desperately broken " by a fall," as Harry hiccuped out, or by his " throwing her down," as Jawleyford declared. Horses fall with their masters, servants throiv them down. What a happiness it is when people can send their servants on errands by coaches or railways, instead MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 159 of being kept on the fidget all day, lest a fifty-pound horse should be the price of a bodkin or a basket of fish ! Amelia's condescension quite turned Jack's head ; and when he went up-stairs to dress, he squinted at his lordship's best clothes, all neatly laid out for him on the bed, with inward satisfaction at having brought them. " Dash me ! " said he, " I really think that girl has a fancy for me." Then he examined himself minutely in the glass, brushed his whiskers up into a curve on his cheeks, the curves almost corresponding with the curve of his spectacles above ; then he gave his bristly, porcupine-shaped head a backward rub with a sort of thing like a scrubbing-brush. " If I'd only had the silver specs," thought he, " I should have done." He then began to dress ; an operation that ever and anon was interrupted by the outburst of volleys of smoke from the little spluttering, smouldering fire, in the little shabby room Jawleyford insisted on having him put into. Jack tried all things — opening the window and shutting the door, shutting the window and opening the door ; but finding that, instead of curing it, he only produced the different degrees of comparison — bad, worse, worst, — he at length shut both, and applied himself vigorously to dressing. He soon got into his stockings and pumps, also his black Saxony trousers ; then came a fine black lace fringed cravat, and the damson-coloured velvet waistcoat with the cut-steel buttons. " Dash me, but I look pretty well in this ! " said he, eying first one side and then the other as he buttoned it. He then stuck a chased and figured fine gold brooch, with two pendant tassel- drops, set with turquoise and agates, that he had abstracted from his lordship's dressing-case, into his, or rather his lordship's, finely- worked shirt-front, and crowned the toilet with his lordship's best new blue coat with velvet collar, silk facings, and the Flat Hat Hunt button — " a striding fox," with the letters " F. H. H." below. " Who shall say Mr. Spraggon's not a gentleman ? " said he, as he perfumed one of his lordship's fine coronetted cambric handker- chiefs with lavender-water. Scent, in Jack's opinion, was one of the criterions of a gentleman. Somehow Jack felt quite differently towards the house of Jaw- leyford ; and though he did not expect much pleasure in Mr. Sponge's company, he thought, nevertheless, that the ladies and he — Amelia and he at least — would get on very well. Forgetting that he had come to eject Sponge on the score of insufficiency, he really bejjan to think he might be a very desirable match for one of theui himself. 160 MM. SFOJSFGU'S 8F0UTING TOUR. CHAPTER XXVI. MR. SPRAGGON AT JAWLEYFORD COURT. INTER MR. JACK SPBAGGON, FULL DRE*S. THE Spraggons are a most respectable family," said he, eyeing him- self in the glass. "If not very handsome, at all events, very genteel," added he, speaking of himself in par- ticular. So say- ing, he adorned himself with his spectacles and setoff to explore his way down stairs. After divers mistakes he at length found himself in the drawing- room, where the rest of the party being assembled, they presently pro- ceeded to din- Jack's amended costume did not produce any difference in Mr. Sponge's behaviour, who treated him with the utmost indifference. In truth, Sponge had rather a large balance against Jack for his impudence to him in the field. Nevertheless, the fair Amelia continued her attentions, and talked of hunting, occasionally diverging into observations on Lord Scamperdale's fine riding and manly character and appearance, in the roundabout way ladies send their messages and compliments to their friends. The dinner wTas flat. Jawleyford had stopped the champagne MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 161 tap, though the needle-case glasses stood to tantalise the party till about the time that the beverage ought to have been flowing, when Spigot took ihem off. The flatness then became flatter. Never- theless, Jack worked away in his usual carnivorous style, and finished by paying his respects to all the sweets, jellies, and things in succession. He never got any of these, he said, at " home," meaning at Lord Scamperdale's — Amelia thought, if she was "my lady," he would not get any meat there either. At length Jack finished ; and having discussed cheese, porter, and red herrings, the cloth was drawn, and a hard-featured dessert, consisting principally of apples, followed. The wine having made a couple of melancholy circuits, the strained conversation about came to a full stop, and Spigot having considerately placed the little round table, as if to keep the peace between them, the ladies left the male worthies to discuss their port and sherry together. Jack, according to Woodmansterne fashion, unbuttoned his waist- coat, and stuck his legs out before him, — an example that Mr. Sponge quickly followed, and each assumed an attitude that as good as said, " I don't care twopence for you." A dead silence then prevailed, interrupted only by the snap, snap, snapping of Jack's toothpick against his chair-edge, when he was not busy exploring his mouth with it. It seemed to be a match whicli should keep silence longest. Jack sat squinting his eyes inside out at Sponge, while Sponge pretended to be occupied with the fire. The wine being with Sponge, and at length wanting some, he was constrained to make the first move, by passing it over to Jack, who helped himself to port and sherry simultaneously — a glass of sherry after dinner (in Jack's opinion) denoting a gentleman. Having smacked his lips over that, he presently turned to the glass of port. He checked his hand in passing it to his mouth, and bore the glass up to his nose. " Corked, by Jove ! " exclaimed he, setting the glass down on the table with a thump of disgust. It is curious what unexpected turns things sometimes take in the world, and how completely whole trains of well-preconcerted plans are often turned aside by mere accidents such as this. If it hadn't been for the corked bottle of port, there is no saying but these two worthies would have held a Quakers' meeting without the "spirit" moving either of them. " Corked, by Jove ! " exclaimed Jack. " It is ! " rejoined Sponge, smelling at his half -emptied glass. " Better have another bottle," observed Jack. " Certainly," replied Sponge, ringing the bell. " Spigot, this wine's corked," observed Sponge, as old Pomposo entered the room. " Is it ? " said Spigot, with the most perfect innocence, though he knew it came out of the corked batch. " I'll brine: another 162 MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. bottle," added he, carrying it off as if he had a whole pipe at command, though in reality he had but another out. This fortunately was less corked than the first ; and Jack having given an approving smack of his great thick lips, Mr. Sponge took it on his judgment, and gave a nod to Spigot, who forthwith took his departure. "Old trick that," observed Jack, with a shake of the head, as Spigot shut the door. " Is it ? " observed Mr. Sponge, taking up the observation, though in reality it was addressed to the fire. " Noted for it," replied Jack, squinting at the sideboard, though he was staring intently at Sponge to see how he took it. " Well, I thought we had a bottle with a queer smatch the other night," observed Sponge. " Old Blossomnose corked half-a-dozen in succession one night," replied Jack. (He had corked three, but Jawleyford recorked them, and Spigot was now reproducing them to our friends.) Although they had now got the ice broken, and entered into something like a conversation, it nevertheless went on very slowly, and they seemed to weigh each word before it was uttered. Jack, too, had time to run his peculiar situation through his mind, and ponder on his mission from Lord Scamperdale — on his lordship's detestation of Mr. Sponge, his anxiety to get rid of him, his promised corner in his will, and his lordship's hint about buying Sponge's horses if he could not get rid of him in any other way. Sponge, on his part, was thinking if there was any possibility of turning Jack to account. It may seem strange to the uninitiated that there should be prospect of gain to a middle-man in the matter of a horse-deal, save in the legitimate trade of auctioneers and commission stable- keepers ; but we are sorry to say we have known men calling themselves gentlemen, who have not thought it derogatory to accept a " trifle " for their good offices in the cause. " I can buy cheaper than you," they say, "'and we may as well divide the trifle between us." That was Mr. Spraggon's principle, only that the word " trifle " inadequately conveys his opinion on the point ; Jack's notion being that a man was entitled to 5Z. per cent, as of right, and as much more as he could get. It was not often that Jack got a " bite " at my lord, which, perhaps, made him think it the more incumbent on him not a miss an opportunity. Having been told, of course he knew exactly the style of man he had to deal with in Mr. Sponge — a style of men of whom there is never any difficulty in asking if they will sell their horses, price being the only consideration. They are, indeed, a MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 163 sort of unlicensed horse-dealers, from whose presence few hunts are wholly free. Mr. Spraggon thought, if he could get Sponge to make it worth his while to get my lord to buy his horses, the— whatever he might get — would come in very comfortably to pay his Christmas bills. By the time the bottle drew to a close, our friends were rather better friends, and seemed more inclined to fraternise. Jack had the advantage of Sponge, for he could stare, or rather squint, at him without Sponge knowing it. The pint of wine apiece — at least as near a pint apiece as Spigot could afford to let them have — somewhat strung Jack's nerves as well as his eyes, and he began to show more of the pupils and less of the whites than he did. He buzzed the bottle with such a hearty good will as settled the fate of another, which Sponge rang for as a matter of course. There was but the rejected one, which, however, Spigot put into a different decanter, and brought in with such an air as precluded either of them saying a word in disparagement of it. " Where are the hounds next week ? " asked Sponge, sipping away at it. " Monday, Larkhall Hill ; Tuesday, the cross-roads by Dallington Burn ; Thursday, the Toll-bar at Whitburrow Green ; Saturday, the kennels," replied Jack. " Good places ? " asked Sponge. " Monday's good," replied Jack ; " draw Thorney Gorse — sure find ; second draw, Barnlow Woods, and home by Loxley, Padmore, and so on." " What sort of a place is Tuesday ? " " Tuesday ? " repeated Jack. " Tuesday ! Oh, that's the cross roads. Capital place, unless the fox takes to Bumborrow Craigs, or gets into Seedeywood Forest, when there's an end of it — at least an end of everything except pulling one's horse's legs off in the stiff clayey rides. It's a long way from hero, though," observed Jack. " How far ? " asked Sponge. " Good twenty miles," replied Jack. " It's sixteen from us ; it'll be a good deal more from here." " His lordship will lay out overnight, then ? " observed Sponge. " Not he," replied Jack. " Takes better care of his sixpences than that. Up in the dark, breakfast by candle-light, grope our ways to the stable, and blunder along the deep lanes, and through all the bye-roads in the country — get there somehow or another." " Keen hand ! " observed Sponge. " Mad ! " replied Jack. They then paid their mutual respects to the port. " He hunts there on Tuesdays," observed Jack, setting down his glass, " so that he may have all Wednesday to get home in, and be 164 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. sure of appearing on Thursday. There's no saying where he may finish with a cross-roads' meet." By the time the worthies had finished the bottle, they had got a certain way into each other's confidence. The hint Lord Scamperdale had given about buying Sponge's horses still occupied Jack's mind ; and the more he considered the subject, and the worth of a corner in his lordship's will, the more sensible he became of the truth of the old adage, tbat " a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." " My Lord," thought Jack, " promises fair, but it is but a chance, and a remote one. He may live many years — as long, perhaps longer, than me. Indeed, he puts me on horses that are anything but calculated to promote longevity. Then he may marry a wife who may eject me, as some wives do eject their husbands' agreeable friends ; or he may change his mind, and leave me nothing after all." All things considered, Jack came to the conclusion that he should not be doing himself justice if he did not take advantage of such fair opportunities as chance placed in his way, and there- fore he thought he might as well be picking up a penny during his lordship's life, as be waiting for a contingency that might never occur. Mr. Jawleyford's indisposition preventing Jack making the announcement he was sent to do, made it incumbent on him, as he argued, to see what could be done with the alternative his lordship had proposed — namely, buying Sponge's horses. At least, Jack salved his conscience over with the old plea of duty ; and had come to that conclusion as he again helped himself to the last glass in the bottle. " Would you like a little claret ? " asked Sponge with all the hospitality of a host. " No, hang your claret ! " replied Jack. "A little brandy, perhaps ?" suggested Sponge. " I shouldn't mind a glass of brandy," replied Jack, " by way of a nightcap." Spigot, at this moment entering to announce tea and coffee, was interrupted in his oration by Sponge demanding some brandy. " Sorry," replied Spigot, pretending to be quite taken by surprise "very sorry, sir — but, sir — master, sir — bed, sir — disturb him, sir." " Oh, dash it, never mind that ! " exclaimed Jack ; tell him Mr. Sprag — Sprag — Spraggon " (the bottle of port beginning to make Jack rather inarticulate)— "tell him Mr. Spraggon wants a little." " Dursn't disturb him, sir," responded Spigot, with a shake of his head ; " Much as my place, sir, is worth, sir." " Haven't you a little drop in your pantry, think you ? " asked Sponge. MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 165 " The coolc perhaps has," replied Mr. Spigot, as if it was quite out of his line. " Well, go and ask her," said Sponge ; " and bring some hot water and things, the same as we had last night, you know." Mr. Spigot retired, and presently returned, bearing a tray with three-quarters of a bottle of brandy, which he impressed upon their minds was the " cook's oivn." " I dare say," hiccupped Jack, holding the bottle up to the light. " Hope she wasn't using it herself," observed Sponge. "Tell her we'll (hiccup) her health," hiccupped Jack, pouring a liberal potation into his tumbler. " That'll be all you'll do, I dare say," muttered Spigot to him- self, as he sauntered back to his pantry. " Does Jaw stand smoking ? " asked Jack, as Spigot disappeared. " Oh I should think so," replied Sponge ; " a friend like you, I'm sure, would be welcome " — Sponge thinking to indulge in a cigar, and lay the blame on Jack. " Well, if you think so," said Jack, pulling out his cigar-case, or raoher his lordship's, and staggering to the chimney-piece for a match, though there was a candle at his elbow, " I'll have a pipe." " So'll I," said Sponge, " if you'll give me a cigar." "Much yours as mine," replied Jack, handing him his lordship's richly embroidered case with coronets and ciphers on either side, the gift of one of the many would-be Lady Scamperdales. " Want a light ! " hiccupped Jack, who had now got a glow- worm end to his. "Thanks," said Sponge, availing himself of the friendly overture. Our friends now whiffed and puffed away together — whiffing and puffing where whiffing and puffing had never been known before. The brandy began to disappear pretty quickly ; it was better than the wine. " That's a n — n — nice — ish horse of yours," stammered Jack, as he mixed himself a second tumbler. " Which ? " asked Sponge. " The bur — bur — brown," spluttered Jack. " He is that" replied Sponge ; "best horse in this country by far." " The che— che — chest— nut's not a ba— ba — bad un, I dare say," observed Jack. " No, he's not," replied Sponge ; " a deuced good un." " I know a man who's rather s — s — s — sweet on the b — b — br — brown," observed Jack, squinting frightfully. Sponge sat silent for a few seconds, pretending to be wrapt up in his " sublime tobacco." " Is he a buyer, or just a jawer ? " he asked at last. " Oh, a luyer" replied Jack. " I'll sell,'''' said Sponge, with a strong emphasis on the sell. 166 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. " How much ? " asked Jack, sobering with the excitement. " Which ? " asked Sponge. " The brown," rejoined Jack. " Three hundred," said Sponge ; adding, M I gave two for him." " Indeed ! " said Jack. A long pause then ensued, Jack thinking whether he should put the question boldly as to what Sponge would give him for effecting a sale, or should beat about the bush a little. At last he thought it would be most prudent to beat about the bush, and see if Sponge would make an offer. "Well," said Jack, " I'll s — s — s — see what I can do." * That's a good fellow," said Sponge ; adding, " I'll remember you if you do." " I dare say I can 8 — s — s — sell them both, for that matter," observed Jack, encouraged by the promise. " Well," replied Sponge, " I'll take the same for the chestnut ; there isn't the toss-up of a halfpenny for choice between them." " Well," said Jack, " we'll s — s — s — see them next week." " Just so," said Sponge. " You r — r — ride well up to the h — h — hounds," continued Jack, "and let his lordship s — s — see w — w — what they can do." " I will," said Sponge, wishing he was at work. " Never mind his rowing," observed Jack ; " he c — c — can't help it." " Not I," replied Sponge, puffing away at his cigar. When men once begin to drink brandy-and-water (after wine) there's an end of all note of time. Our friends — for we " may now call them so," sat sip, sip, sipping — mix, mix, mixing ; now strengthening, now weakening, now warming, now flavouring, till they had not only finished the hot water but a large jug of cold, that graced the centre of the table between two frosted tumblers, and had nearly got through the brandy too. " May as well fi — fi — fin — nish the bottle," observed Jack, hold- ing it up to the candle. "Just a thi — thi — thim — bleful apiece," added he, helping himself to about three-quarters of what there was. "You've taken your share," observed Sponge, as the bottle suspended payment before he got half the quantity that Jack had. " Sque — ee — eze it," replied Jack, suiting the action to the word, and working away at an exhausted lemon. At length they finished. " Well, I s'pose we may as well go and have some tea," observed Jack. " It's not announced yet," said Sponge, " but I make no doubt it will be ready." So saying, the worthies rose, and, after sundry bumps and certain irregularities of course, they each succeeded in reaching MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 167 the door. The passage lamp had died out and filled the corridor with its fragrance. Sponge, however, knew the way, and the dark- ness favoured the adjustment of cravats and the fingering of hair. Having got up a sort of drunken simper, Sponge opened the drawing- room door, expecting to find smiling ladies in a blaze of light. All, however, was darkness, save the expiring embers in the grate. The tick, tick, tick, ticking of the clocks sounded wonderfully clear. " Gone to bed ! " exclaimed Sponge. " Who-hoop ! " shrieked Jack, at the top of his voice. " What's smatter, gentlemen ? — What's smatter ? " exclaimed Spigot rushing in, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and holding a block tin candlestick in the other. " Nothin'," replied Jack, squinting his eyes inside out ; adding, " Get me a devilled — " (hiccup) " Don't know how to do them here, sir," snapped Spigot. " Devilled turkey's leg though you do, you rascal ! " rejoined Jack, doubling his fists and putting himself in posture. " Beg pardon, sir," replied Spigot, " but the cook, sir, is gone to bed, sir. Do you know, sir, what o'clock it is, sir ? " "No," replied Jack. " What time is it ? " asked Sponge. " Twenty minutes to two," replied Spigot, holding up a sort of pocket warming-pan, which he called a watch. " The deuce," exclaimed Sponge. " Who'd ha' thought it ? " muttered Jack. " Well then, I suppose we may as well go to bed," observed Sponge. " S'pose so," replied Jack ; " nothin' more to get." " Do you know your room ? " asked Sponge. " To be sure I do," replied Jack ; " don't think I'm d — d — dr — drunk, do you ? " " Not likely," rejoined Sponge. Jack then commenced a very crab-like ascent of the stairs, which fortunately were easy, or he would never have got up. Mr. Sponge, who still occupied the state apartments, took leave of Jack at his own door, and Jack went bumping and blundering on in search of the branch passage leading to his piggery. He found the green baize door that usually distinguishes the entrance to these secondary suites, and was presently lurching along its con- tracted passage. As luck would have it, however, he got into his host's dressing-room, where that worthy slept ; and when Jawley- ford jumped up in the morning, as was his wont, to see what sort of a day it was, he trod on Jack s face, who had fallen down in his clothes alongside of the bed, and Jawleyford broke Jack's spectacles across the bridge of his nose. " Rot it ! " roared Jack jumping up, " don't ride over a fellow 168 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. that way ! " when, shaking himself to try whether any limbs were broken, he found he was in his dress clothes instead of in the roomy garments of the Flat Hat Hunt. " Who are you ? where am I ? what the deuce do you mean by breaking my specs ? " he exclaimed, squinting frightfully at his host. " My dear sir," exclaimed Mr. Jawleyford, from the top of his night-shirt, " I'm very sorry, but " " Hang your hits ! you shouldn't ride so near a man ! " exclaimed Jack, gathering up the fragments of his spectacles ; when, recollect- ing himself, he finished by say, " Perhaps I'd better go to my own room." " Perhaps you had," replied Mr. Jawleyford, advancing towards the door to show him the way. "Let me have a candle," said Jack, preparing to follow. " Candle, my dear fellow ! why it's broad daylight," replied his host. " Is it ? " said Jack, apparently unconscious of the fact. " What's the hour ? " " Five minutes to eight," replied Jawleyford, looking at a timepiece. When Jack got into his own den he threw himself into an old invalid chair, and sat rubbing the fractured spectacles together as if he thought they would unite by friction, though in reality he was endeavouring to run the overnight's proceedings through his mind. The more he thought of Amelia's winning ways, the more satisfied he was that he had made an impression, and then the more vexed he was at having his spectacles broken : for though he considered himself very presentable without them, still he could not but feel that they were a desirable addition. Then, too he had a splitting headache ; and finding that breakfast was not till ten and might be a good deal later, all things considered, he determined to be off and follow up his success under more favour- able auspices. Considering that all the clothes he had with him were his lordship's, he thought it immaterial which he went home in, so to save trouble he just wrapped himself up in his mackintosh and travelled in the dress ones he had on. It was fortunate for Mr. Sponge that he went, for, when Jawley- ford smelt the indignity that had been offered to his dining-room, he broke out in such a torrent of indignation as would have been extremely unpleasant if there had not been some one to lay the blame on. Indeed, he was not particularly gracious to Mr. Sponge as it was ; but that arose, as much from certain dark hints that had worked their way from the servants' hall into "my lady's chamber" as to our friend's pecuniary resources and prospects. Jawleyford began to suspect that Sponge might not be quite the great " catch " he was represented. Beyond, however, putting a few searching questions— which MR. JAWLEYFORD AND MIS UNLOOKED=.FOR VISITOR. MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB. 169 Mr. Sponge skilfully parried— advising his daughters to be cautious, lessening the number of lights, and lowering the scale of his enter- tainments generally, Mr. Jawleyford did not take any decided step in the matter. Mr. Spraggon comforted Lord Scamperdale with the assurance that Amelia had no idea of Sponge, who he made no doubt would very soon be out of the country — and his lordship went to church and prayed most devoutly for him to go. CHAPTER XXVII. 3IR. AND MRS. SPRIXGWHEAT. " Lord Scamperdale's foxhounds meet on Monday at Larkhall Hill.'" &c. &c. County Paper. -pi.im;\vi[|:.vi s i ivi:-year-uld horse. The Flat Hat Hunt had relapsed into its wonted quiet, and " Larkhall Hill " saw none but the regular attendants, men without the slightest particle of curve in their hats — hats, indeed, that lucked as if the owners sat upon them when they hadn't them 02 170 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. on their heads. There was Fyle, and Fossick, and Blossomnose, and Sparks, and Joyce, and Capon, and Dribble, and a few others, but neither "Washball nor Puffington, nor any of the holi- day birds. Precisely at ten, my lord, and his hounds, and his huntsman, and his whips, and his Jack, trotted round Farmer Springwheat's spacious back premises, and appeared in due form before the green rails in front. " Pride attends us all," as the poet says ; and if his lordship had ridden into the yard, and halloaed out for a glass of home-brewed, Springvvheat would have trapped every fox on his farm, and the blooming Mrs. Springwheat would have had an interminable poultry-bill against the hunt ; whereas, simply by " making things pleasant," — that is to say, coming to breakfast — Springwheat saw his corn trampled on, nay, led the way over it himself, and Mrs. Springwheat saw her Dorkings disappear with- out a murmur — unless, indeed, an inquiry when his lordship would be coming could be considered in that light. Larkhall Hill stood in the centre of a circle, on a gentle eminence, commanding a view over a farm whose fertile fields and well-trimmed fences sufficiently indicated its boundaries, and looked indeed as if all the good of the country had come up to it. It was green and luxuriant even in winter, while the strong cane-coloured stubbles showed what a crop there had been. Turnips as big as cheeses swelled above the ground. In a little narrow dell, whose existence was more plainly indicated from the house by several healthy spindling larches shooting up from among the green gorse, was the cover — an almost certain find, with the almost equal certainty of a run from it. It occupied both sides, of the sandy, rabbit-frequented dell, through which ran a sparkling stream, and it possessed the great advantage to foot-people of letting them see the fox found. Larkhall Hill, was, therefore a favourite both with horse and foot. So much good — at all events so much well-farmed land would seem to justify a better or more imposing-looking house, the present one consisting, exclusive of the projecting garret ones in the Dutch tile roof, of the usual four windows and a door, that so well tell their own tale ; passage in the middle, staircase in front, parlour on the right, best ditto on the left, with rooms to correspond above. To be sure, there was a great depth of house to the back ; but this in no way contributed to the importance of the front, from which point alone the Springwheats chose to have it contemplated. If the back arrangements could have been divided, and added to the sides, they would have made two very good wings to the old red brick rose-entwined mansion. Having mentioned that its colour was red, it is almost superfluous to add that the door and rails were green. This was a busy morning at Larkhall Hill. It was the first day MR. SPONGE'S SPORTIX'J TOUR. 171 of the season of my lord's hounds meeting there, and the handsome Mrs. Springwheat had had as much trouble in overhauling the china and linen, and in dressing the children, preparatory to breakfast, as Springwheat had had in collecting knives and forks, and wine-glasses and tumblers for his department of the entertain- ment, to say nothing of looking after his new tops and cords. " The Hill," as the country people call it, was " full fig " ; and a bright, balmy winter's day softened the atmosphere, and felt as though a summer's day had been shaken out of its place into winter. It is not often that the English climate is accommodating enough to lend its aid to set off a place to advantage. Be that, however, as it may, things looked smiling both without and within. Mrs. Springwheat, by dint of early rising and superintendence, had got things into such a state of forwardness as to be able to adorn herself with a little jaunty cap — curious in microscopic punctures and cherry-coloured ribbon interlarduients, — placed so far back on her finely-shaped head as to proclaim beyond all possibility of cavil that it was there for ornament, and not for the purpose of concealing the liberties of time with her well-kept, clearly-parted, raven-black hair. Liberties of time, forsooth ! Mrs. Springwheat was in the heighday of womanhood ; and though she had presented Springwheat with twins three times in succession, besides an eldest son, she was as young, fresh-looking, and finely-figured as she was the day she was married. She was now dressed in a very fine French grey merino, with a very small crochet-work collar, and, of course, capacious muslin sleeves. The high flounces to her dress set off her smart waist to great advantage. Mrs. Springwheat had got everything ready, and herself too, . by the time Lord Scamperdale's second horseman rode into the yard and demanded a stall for his horse. Knowing how soon the balloon follows the pilot, she immediately ranged the Stunner- tartan-clad children in the breakfast-room ; and as the first whip's rate sounded as he rode round the corner, she sank into an easy- chair by the fire, with a lace-fringed kerchief in the one hand, and the Mark Lane Express in the other. " Halloa ! Springey ! " followed by the heavy crack of a whip, announced the arrival of his lordship before the green palings ; and a loud view halloa burst from Jack, as the object of inquiry was seen dancing about the open windowed room above, with his face all flushed with the exertion of pulling on a very tight boot. " Come in, my lord ! pray, come in ! The missis is below ! " exclaimed Springwheat, from the window ; and just at the moment the pad-groom emerged from the house, and ran to his lordship's horse's head. His lordship and Jack then dismounted, and gave their hacks 172 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. in charge of the servant ; while Wake, and Fyle, and Archer, who were also of the party, scanned the countenances of the surround- ing idlers, to see in whose hands they had best confide their nags. In Lord Scamperdale stamped, followed by his trainband bold, and Maria, the maid, being duly stationed in the passage, threw open the parlour-door on the left, and discovered Mrs. Springwheat sitting in attitude. " Well, my lady, and how are you ? " exclaimed his lordship, advancing gaily, and seizing both her pretty hands as she rose to receive him. " I declare, you look younger and prettier every time I see you." " Oh ! my lord," simpered Mrs. Springwheat, " you gentlemen are always so complimentary." " Not a bit of it ! " exclaimed his lordship, eyeing her intently through his silver spectacles, for he had been obliged to let Jack have the other pair of tortoiseshell-rimmed ones. " Not a bit of it," repeated his lordship. " I always tell Jack you are the handsomest woman in Christendom ; don't I, Jack ? " inquired his Lordship, appealing to his factotum. " Yes, my lord," replied Jack, who always swore to whatever his lordship said. ' ' By Jove ! " continued his lordship, with a stamp of his foot, " if I could find such a woman I'd marry her to-morrow. Not such women as you to pick up every day. And what a lot of pretty pups ! " exclaimed his lordship, starting back, pretending to be struck with the row of staring, black-haired, black-eyed, half-frightened children. " Now, that's what I call a good entry," continued his lordship, scrutinising them attentively, and pointing them out to Jack : " all dogs — all boys, I mean ? " added he. "No, my lord," replied Mrs. Springwheat, laughing, "these are girls," laying her hand on the heads of two of them, who were now full giggle at the idea of being taken for boys. " Well, they're devilish handsome, anyhow," replied his lordship, thinking he might as well be done with the inspection. Springwheat himself now made his appearance, as fine a sample of a man as his wife was of a woman. His face was flushed with the exertion of pulling on his tight boots, and his lordship felt the creases the hooks had left as he shook him by the hand. " Well, Springey," said he, " I was just asking your wife after the new babby." " Oh, thank you, my lord," replied Springey, with a shake of his curly head ; " thank you, my lord ; no new babbies, my lord, with wheat below forty, my lord." " Well, but you've got a pair of new boots, at all events," observed his lordship, eyeing Springwheat's refractory calves bagging over the tops of them. MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING 10UH. 173 " 'Deed have I ! " replied Springwheat ; " and a pair of uncommon awkward tight customers they are," added he, trying to move his feet about in them. " Ah ! you should always have a chap to wear your boots a few times before you put them on yourself," observed his lordship. " I never have a pair of tight uns," added he ; " Jack here always does the needful by mine." "That's all very well for lords," replied Mr. Springwheat ; "but us farmers wear out our boots fast enough ourselves, without any- body to help us." "Well, but I s'pose we may as well fall to," observed his lordship, casting his eye upon the well-garnished table. " All these good things are meant to eat, I s'pose," added he : " cakes. and sweets, and jellies without end : and as to your sideboard," said he, turning round and looking at it, " it's a match for any Lord Mayor's. A round of beef, a ham, a tongue, and is that a goose or a turkey ? " "A turkey, my lord," replied Springwheat ; "home-fed. my lord." " Ah, home-fed, indeed ! " ejaculated his lordship, with a shake of the head : " home-fed : wish I could feed at home. The man who said that E'en from the peasant to the lord, The turkey smokes on every board, told a big un, for I'm sure none ever smokes on mine." " Take a little here to-day, then," observed Mr, Springwheat, cutting deep into the white breast. " I will," replied his lordship, " I will ; and a slice of tongue, too," added he. " There are some hot sausingers comin'," observed Mr. Spring- wheat. " You don't say so," replied his lordship, apparently thunder- struck at the announcement. " Well, I must have all three. By Jove, Jack ! " said he, appealing to his friend, "but you've lit on your legs coming here. Here's a breakfast fit to set before the Queen — muffins, and crumpets, and cakes. Let me advise you to make the best use of your time, for you have but twenty minutes," continued his lordship, looking at his watch, " and muffins and crumpets don't come in your way every day." " 'Deed they don't," replied Jack, with a grin. "Will your lordship take tea or coffee ?" asked Mrs. Spring- wheat, who had now taken her seat at the top of the table, behind a richly chased equipage for the distribution of those beverages. " Ton my word, replied his lordship," apparently bewildered — " 'pon my word, I don't know what to say. Tea or coffee ? To tell you the truth, I was going to take something out of my 174 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. black friend yonder," nodding to where a French bottle like a tall bully was lifting its head above an encircling stand of liqueur- glasses. " Suppose you have a little of what we call laced tea, my lord — tea with a dash of brandy in it ? " suggested Mr. Springwheat. " Laced tea," repeated his lordship ; " laced tea : so I will," said he. " Deuced good idea — deuced good idea," continued he, bringing the bottle, and seating himself on Mrs. Springwheat's right, while his host helped him to a most plentiful plate of turkey and tongue. The table was now about full, as was the room ; the guests just rolling in as they would to a public-house, and helping themselves to whatever they liked. Great was the noise of eating. As his lordship was in the full enjoyment of his plateful of meat, he happened to look up, and, the space between him and the window being clear, he saw something that caused him to drop his knife and fork and fall back in his chair as if he was shot. " My lord's ill ! " exclaimed Mr. Springwheat, who, being the only man with his nose up, was the first to perceive it. " Clap him on the back ! " shrieked Mrs. Springwheat, who considered that an infallible recipe for the ailments of children. " Oh, Mr. Spraggon ! " exclaimed both, as they rushed to his assistance, " what is the matter with my lord ? " " Oh that Mister something ! " gasped his lordship, bending forward in his chair, and venturing another glance through the window. Sure enough, there was Sponge, in the act of dismounting from the piebald, and resigning it with becoming dignity to his trusty groom, Mr. Leather, who stood most respectfully — Parvo in hand — waiting to receive it. Mr. Sponge, being of opinion that a red coat is a passport every- where, having stamped the mud sparks off his boots at the door, swaggered in with the greatest coolness, exclaiming, as he bobbed his head to the lady, and looked round at the company, — " What, grubbing away ! grubbing away, eh ? " " "Won't you take a little refreshment ? " asked Mr. Springwheat, in the hearty way these hospitable fellows welcome everybody. " Yes, I will," replied Sponge, turning to the sideboard as though it were an inn. " That's a monstrous fine ham," observed he ; " why doesn't somebody cut it ? " "Let me help you to some, sir," replied Mr. Springwheat, seizing the buck-handled knife and fork, and diving deep into the rich red meat with the knife. Mr. Sponge having got two bountiful slices, with a knotch of home-made "brown bread, and some mustard on his plate, now made for the table, and elbowed himself into a place between Mr. Fossick and Sparks, immediately opposite Mr. Spraggon. MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 175 " Good morning-," said he to that worthy, as he saw the white? of his eyes showing through his spectacles. " Mornin' " muttered Jack, as if his mouth was either too full to articulate, or he didn't want to have anything to say to Mr. Sponge. " Here's a fine hunting morning my lord," observed Sponge, addressing himself to his lordship, who sat on Jack's left. " Here's a very fine hunting morning, my lord," repeated Sponge, not getting an answer to his first assertion. " Is it ? " blurted his lordship, pretending to be desperately busy with the contents of his plate, though in reality his appetite was gone. A dead pause now ensued, interrupted only by the clattering of knives and forks, and the occasional exclamations of parties in want of some particular article of food. A chill had come over the scene — a chill whose cause was apparent to every one, except the worthy host and hostess, who had not heard of Mr. Sponge's descent upon the country. They attributed it to his lordship's indisposition, and Mr. Springwheat endeavoured to cheer him up with the prospect of sport. " There's a brace, if not a leash, of foxes in cover, my lord," observed he, seeing his lordship was only playing with the contents of his plate. " Is there ? " exclaimed his lordship, brightening up : " let's be at 'em ! " added he, jumping up and diving under the side table for his flat hat and heavy iron hammer-headed whip. " Good morning, my dear Mrs. Springwheat," exclaimed he, putting on his hat and seizing both her soft fat-fingered hands and squeezing them ardently. " Good morning, my dear Mrs. Springwheat," repeated he, adding, " By Jove ! if ever there was an angel in petticoats, you're her ; I'd give a hundred pounds for such a wife as you ! I'd give a thousand pounds for such a wife as you ! By the powers ! I'd give five thousand pounds for such a wife as you ! " With which asseverations his lordship stamped away in his great clumsy boots, amidst the ill-suppressed laughter of the party. "No hurry, gentlemen— no hurry," observed Mr. Springwheat, as some of the keen ones were preparing to follow, and began sorting their hats, and making the mistakes incident to their being all the same shape. " No hurry, sir — no hurry, sir," repeated Springwheat, addressing Mr. Sponge specifically ; " his lordship will have a talk to his hounds yet, and his horse is still in the stable." With this assurance Mr. Sponge resumed his seat at the table, where several of the hungry ones were plying their knives and forks as if they were indeed breaking their fasts. " Well, old boy, and how are you ? " asked Sponge, as the 176 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. whites of Jack's eyes again settled upon him, on the latter's look- ing up from his plateful of sausages. " Nicely. How are you ? " asked Jack. " Nicely too," replied Sponge, in the laconic way men speak who have been engaged in some common enterprise— getting drunk, pelting people with rotten eggs, or anything of that sort. " Jaw and the ladies well ? " asked Jack, in the same strain. " Oh, nicely," said Sponge. " Take a glass of cherry-brandy," exclaimed the hospitable Mr. Springwheat : " nothing like a drop of something for steadying the nerves." " Presently," replied Sponge, " presently ; meanwhile I'll trouble the missis for a cup of coffee. Coffee without sugar," said Sponge, addressing the lady. " With pleasure," replied Mrs. Springwheat, glad to get a little custom for her goods. Most of the gentlemen had been at the bottles and sideboard. Springwheat, seeing Mr. Sponge, the only person who, as a stranger, there was any occasion for him to attend to, in the care of his wife, now slipped out of the room, and mounting his five- year-old horse, whose tail stuck out like the long horn of a coach, as his ploughman groom said, rode off to join the hunt. " By the powers, but those are capital sarsingers ! " observed Jack, smacking his lips and eating away for hard life. " Just look if my lord's on his horse yet," added he to one of the children, who had begun to hover round the table and dive their fingers into the sweets. "No," replied the child ; "he's still on foot, playing with the dogs." " Here goes, then," said Jack, " for another plate," suiting the action to the word, and running with his plate to the sausage-dish. " Have a hot one," exclaimed Mrs. Springwheat, adding, " it will be done in a minute." " No, thank ye," replied Jack, with a shake of the head, adding, " I might be done in a minute too." " He'll waitfor you, Isuppose?" observed Sponge, addressing Jack. " Not so clear about that," replied Jack, gobbling away ; " time and my lord wait for no man. But it's hardly the half-hour yet," added he, looking at his watch. He then fell to with the voracity of a hound after hunting. Sponge, too, made the most of his time, as did two or three others who still remained. " Now for the jumping-powder ! " at length exclaimed Sponge, looking round for the bottle. " What shall it be, cherry or neat ?" continued he, pointing to the two. " Cherry for me," replied Jack, squinting and eating away without looking up. MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 177 " I say neat" rejoined Sponge, helping himself out of the French bottle. " You'll be hard to hold after that," observed Jack, as he eyed SpoDge tossing it off. " I hope my horse won't," replied Sponge, remembering he was going to ride the resolute chestnut. " You'll show us the way, I dare say," observed Jack. " Shouldn't wonder," replied Sponge, helping himself to a second glass. " What! at it again ! " exclaimed Jack, adding, " Take care you don't ride over my lord." " I'll take care of the old file," said Sponge ; " it wouldn't do to kill the goose that lays the golden what-do-ye-call-'ems, you know —he, he, he ! " " No," chuckled Jack ; " 'deed it wouldn't — must make the most of him." " "What sort of a humour is he in to-day ? " asked Sponge. " Middlin'," replied Jack, "niiddlin'; he'll abuse you most likely, but that you mustn't mind." "Not I," replied Sponge, who was used to that sort of thing. " You mustn't mind me either," observed Jack, sweeping the last piece of sausage into his mouth with his knife, and jumping up from the table. " When his lordship rows I row," added he, diving under the side-table for his flat hat. "Hark! there's the horn !" exclaimed Sponge, rushing to the window. " So there is," responded Jack, standing transfixed on one leg to the spot. " By the powers, they're away ! " exclaimed Sponge, as his lord- ship was seen hat in hand careering over the meadow, beyond the cover, with the tail hounds straining to overtake their flying comrades. Twang — twang — twang went Frostyface's horn ; crack — crack — crack — went the ponderous thongs of the whips ; shouts, and yells, and yelps, and whoops, and holloas, proclaimed the usual wild excitement of this privileged period of the chase. All was joy save among the gourmcmds assembled at the door — they looked blank indeed. " What a sell!" exclaimed Sponge, in disgust, who, with Jack, saw the hopelessness of the case. " Yonder he goes ! " exclaimed a lad, who had run up from the cover to see the hunt from the rising ground. " Where ? " exclaimed Sponge, straining his eye-balls. " There ! " said the lad, pointing due south. " D'ye see Tommy Claychop's pasture ? Now he's through the hedge and into Mrs. Starveland's turnip-field, making right for Bramblebrake Wood on the hill." 178 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. " So he is," said Sponge, who now caught sight of the fox emerging from the turnips on to a grass-field beyond. Jack stood staring through his great spectacles, without deigning a word. " What shall we do ? " asked Sponge. " Do ? " replied Jack, with his chin still up ; " go home, I should think." " There's a man down ! " exclaimed a groom, who formed one of the group, as a dark-coated rider and horse measured their length on a pasture. "It's Mr. Sparks," said another ; adding, " he's always rolling about." " Lor', look at the parson ! " exclaimed a third, as Blossomnose was seen gathering his horse and setting up his shoulders pre- paratory to riding at a gate. " Well done, old 'un ! " roared a fourth, as the horse flew over it, apparently without an effort. " Now for Tom ! " cried several, as the second whip went galloping up on the line of the gate. " Ah ! he won't have it ! " was the cry, as the horse suddenly stopped short, nearly shooting Tom over his head. "Try him again — try him again — take a good run — that's him — there, he's over ! " was the cry, as Tom flourished his arm in the air on landing. " Look ! there's old Tommy Baker, the rat-ketcher ! " cried another, as a man went working his arms and legs on an old white pony across a fallow. " Ah, Tommy ! Tommy ! you'd better shut up," observed another : " a pig could go as fast at that." And so they criticised the laggers. " How did my lord get his horse ? " asked Spraggon of the groom who had brought them on, who now joined the eye- strains g group at the door. " It was taken down to him at the cover," replied the man. " My lord went in on foot, and the horse went round the back way. The horse wasn't there half a minute before he was wanted ; for no sooner were the hounds in at one end than out popped the fox at t'other. Sich a whopper ! — biggest fox that ever was seen." "They are all the biggest foxes that ever were seen," snapped Mr. Sponge. " I'll be bound he was not a bit bigger than common." "I'll be bound not, either," growled Mr. Spraggon, squinting frightfully at the man, adding, " go, get me my hack, and don't be talkin' nonsense there." Our friends then remounted their hacks and parted company in very moderate humours, feeling fully satisfied that his lordship had done it on purpose. MM. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 179 CHAPTER XXVIII. TIIE FINEST RUN THAT EVER WAS SEEN ! 00— HAY, Jack! Hoo- _____^ ray ! " exclaimed U^mm Lord Scamperdale, Vy bursting into his sanctum, where Mr. Spraggon sat in his hunting coat and slip- pers, spelling away at a second - hand copy of BeWs Life by the light of a me- lancholy mould candle. " Hoo- ray, Jack ! hoo- ray ! *' repeated he, waving that proud trophy, a splendid fox's brush, over his grizzly head. His lordship was the picture over! of delight. He had had a tremendous run — the finest run that ever was seen ! His hounds had behaved to perfection ; his horse — though he had downed him three times — had carried him well, and his lordship stood with his crownless flat hat in his hand, and one coat lap in the pocket of the other — a grinning, exulting, self-satisfied specimen of a happy Englishman. " Lor ! what a sight you are ! " observed Jack, turning the light of the candle upon his lordship's dirty person. "Why, I declare you're an inch thick with mud," he added : " mud from head to foot," he continued, working the light up and down. "Never mind the mud, you old badger ! " roared his lordship, still waving the brush over his head : " never mind the mud, you 180 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. old badger ; the mud'll come off, or may stay on ; but such a run as we've had does not come off every day." " Well, I'm glad you have had a run," replied Jack. " I'm glad you have had a run ; " adding, " I was afraid at one time that your day's sport was spoiled." " Well, do you know," replied his lordship, " when I saw that unrighteous snob, I was near sick. If it were possible for a man to faint, I should have thought I was going to do so. At first I thought of going home, taking the hounds away too ; then I thought of going myself and leaving the hounds ; then I thought if I left the hounds it would only make the sinful scaramouch more outrageous, and I should be sitting on pins and needles till they came home, thinking how he was crashing among them. Next I thought of drawing all the unlikely places in the country, and making a blank day of it. Then I thought that would only be like cutting off my nose to spite my face. Then I didn't know what on earth to do. At last, when I saw the critter's great pecker steadily down in his plate, I thought I would try and steal a march upon him, and get away with my fox while he was feeding ; and, oh ! how thankful I was when I looked back from Bramblebrake Hill, and saw no signs of him in the distance." " It wasn't likely you'd see him," interrupted Jack, " for he never got away from the front door. I twigged what you were after, and kept him up in talk about his horses and his ridin' till I saw you were fairly away." " You did well," exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, patting Jack on the back ; " you did well, my old buck-o'-wax ; and, by Jove ! we'll have a bottle of port — a bottle of port, as I live," repeated his lordship, as if he had made up his mind to do a most magnifi- cent act. " But what's happened you behind ! — what's happened you behind ? " asked Jack, as his lordship turned to the fire, and exhibited his docked tail. " Oh, hang the coat ! —it's neither here nor there," replied his lordship ; — " hat neither," he added, exhibiting its crushed pro- portions. "Old Blossomnose did the coat ; and as to the hat, I did it myself — at least, old Daddy Longlegs and I did it between us. We got into a grass-field, of which they had cut a few roods of fence, just enough to tempt a man out of a very deep lane, and away we sailed, in the enjoyment of fine sound sward, with the rest of the field plunging and floundering, and holding and grinning, and thinking what fools they were for not following my example, — when, lo and behold ! I got to the bottom of the field, and found there was no way out ; — no chance of a bore through the great thick, high hedge, except at a branchy willow, where MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 181 there was just enough room to squeeze a horse through, provided he didn't rise at the ditch on the far side. At first I was for getting off ; indeed, had my right foot out of the stirrup, when the hounds dashed forrard with such energy, — looking like running, — and remembering the tremendous climb I should have to get on to old Daddy's back again, and seeing some of the nasty jealous chaps in the lane eyeing me through the fence, thinking how I was floored, I determined to stay where I was ; and gathering the horse together, tried to squeeze through the hole. Well, he went shuffling and sliding down to it, as though he were conscious of the difficulty, and poked his head quietly past the tree, when, getting a sight of the ditch on the far side, he rose, and banged my head against the branch above, crushing my hat right over my eyes, and in that position he carried me through blindfold." " Indeed ! " exclaimed Jack, turning his spectacles full upon his lordship, and adding, "it's lucky he didn't crack your crown." " It is," assented his lordship, feeling his head to satisfy himself that he had not done so. " And how did you lose your tail ? " asked Jack, having got the information about the hat. "The tail ! ah, the tail !" replied his lordship, feeling behind, where it wasn't ; " I'll tell you how that was : you see we went away like blazes from Springwheat's gorse — nice gorse it is, and nice woman he has for a wife — but, however, that's neither here nor there ; what I was going to tell you about was the run, and how I lost my tail. Well, we got away like winking ; no sooner were the hounds in on one side than away went the fox on the other. Not a soul shouted till he was clean gone ; hats in the air was all that told his departure. The fox thus had time to run matters through his mind — think whether he should go to Ravenscar Craigs, or make for the main earths at Painscastle Grove. He chose the latter, doubtless feeling himself strong and full of running ; and if we had chosen his ground for him he could not have taken us a finer line. He went as straight as an arrow through Bramblebrake Wood, and then away down the hill over those great enormous pastures to Haselbury Park, which he skirted, leaving Evercreech Green on the left, pointing as if for Dormston Dean. Here he was chased by a cur, and the hounds were brought to a momentary check. Frosty, however, was well up, and a hat being held up on Hothersell Hill, he clapped for'ard and laid the hounds on beyond. We then viewed the fox sailing away over Eddlethorp Downs, still pointing for Painscastle Grove, with the Hamerton Brook lighting up here and there in the distance. 182 MR. SPOXGE'S SPORT IXG TOUR. " The field, I should tell you, were fairly taken by surprise. There wasn't a man ready for a start j my horse had only just come down. Fossick was on foot, drawing his girths ; Fyle was striking a light to smoke a cigar on his hack ; Blossomnose and Capon's grooms were fistling and wisping their horses ; Dribble, as usual, "was all behind ; and altogether there was such a scene of hurry and confusion as never was seen. ••As they came to the brook they got somewhat into line, and one saw who was there. Five or six of us charged it together, and two went under. One was Springwheat on his bay, who was somewhat pumped out ; the other was said to be Hook. Old Daddy Longlegs skimmed it bike a swallow, and, getting his hind- legs well under him, shot over the pastures beyond, as if he was going upon turf. The hounds all this time had been running, or rather racing, nearly mute. They now, however, began to feel for the scent ; and,* as they got upon the cold, bleak grounds above Somerton Quarries, they were fairly brought to their noses. Uncommon glad I was to see them ; for ten minutes more, at the pace they had been going, would have shaken off every man Jack of us. As it was, it was bellows to mend ; and Calcott's roarer roared as surely roarer never roared before. You could hear him half a mile off. We had barely time, however, to turn our horses to the wind, and ease them for a few moments, before the pace began to mend, and from a catching to a holding scent they again poured across Wallingburn pastures, and away to Eoughacres Court. It was between these places that I got my head duntled into my hat," continued his lordship, knocking the crownless hat ajraidst his mud-stained knee. " However, I didn't care a button though I'd not worn it above two years, and it might have lasted me a long time about home ; but misfortunes seldom come singly, and I was soon to have another. The few of us that were left were all for the lanes, and very accommodating the one between Xewton Bushell and the Forty-foot Bank was, the hounds running parallel within a hundred yards on the left for nearly a mile. When, however, we got to the old water-mill in the fields below, the fox made a bend to the left, as if changing his mind, and making for Xewtonbroome Woods, and we were obliged to try the fortunes of war in the fields. The first fence we came to looked like nothing, and there was a weak place right in my line, that I rode at, expecting the horse would easily bore through a few twigs that crossed the upper part of it. These, however, happened to be twisted, to stop the gap, and not having put on enough steam, they checked him as he rose, and brought him right down on his head in the broad ditch, on the far side. Old Blossomnose, who was following close behind, not making any allowance for falls, was in the air before I was well down, and his horse came with a MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 183 forefoot into my pocket, and tore the lap clean off by the skirt ; " his lordship exhibiting the lap as he spoke. " It's your new coat, too," observed Jack, examining it with concern as he spoke. " 'Deed, is it ! " replied his lordship, with a shake of the head. " 'Deed, is it ! That's the consequence of having gone out to breakfast. If it had been to-morrow, for instance, I should have had number two on, or maybe number three," his lordship having coats of every shade and grade, from stainless scarlet down to tattered mulberry colour. " It'll mend, however," observed his lordship, taking it back from Jack ; " it'll mend, however," he said, fitting it round to the skirt as he spoke. " Oh, nicely ! " replied Jack ; " it's come off clean by the skirt. But what said Old Blossom ? " inquired Jack. " Oh, he was full of apologies and couldn't helps it as usual," replied his lordship ; " he was down, too, I should tell you, with his horse on his left leg ; but there wasn't much time for apologies or explanation, for the hounds were running pretty sharp, con- sidering how long they had been at work, and there was the chance of others jumping upon us if we didn't get out of the way, so we both scrambled up as quick as we could and got into our places again." " Which way did you go, then ? " asked Jack, who had listened with the attention of a man who knows every yard of the country. " Well," continued his lordship, casting back to where he got his fall, " the fox crossed the Coatenburn township, picking all the plough and bad-scenting ground as he went, but it was of no use, his fate was sealed ; and though he began to run short, and dodge and thread the hedge-rows, they hunted him yard by yard till he again made an effort for his life, and took over Mossingburn Moor, pointing for Penrose Tower on the hill. Here Frosty's horse, Little Jumper, declined, and we left him standing in the middle of the moor with a stiff neck, kicking and staring and looking mournfully at his flanks. Daddy Longlegs, too, had begun to sob, and in vain I looked back in hopes of seeing Jack- a-Dandy coming up. ' Well,' said I to myself, ' I've got a pair of good strong boots on, and I'll finish the run on foot but I'll see it ; ' when, just at the moment, the pack broke from scent to view, and rolled the fox up like a hedge-hog amongst them." " Well done ! " exclaimed Jack, adding, " that was a run with a vengeance ! " " Wasn't it ? " replied his lordship, rubbing his hands and stamping ; " the finest run that ever was seen — the finest run that ever was seen ! " 184 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. " Why, it couldn't be less than twelve miles from point to point," observed Jack, thinking it over. " Not a yard," replied his lordship, " not a yard, and from fourteen to fifteen as the hounds ran." " It would be all that," assented Jack. " How long were you in doing it ? " he asked. " An hour and forty minutes," replied his lordship ; " an hour and forty minutes from the find to the finish ; " adding, " I'll stick tbe brush and present it to Mrs. Springwheat." " It's to be hoped Springy's out of the brook," observed Jack. " To be hoped so," replied his lordship ; thinking if he wasn't, whether he should marry Mrs. Springwheat or not. Well now, after all that, we fancy we hear our fair friends exclaim, " Thank goodness, there's an end of Lord Scamperdale and his hunting ; he has had a good run, and will rest quiet for a time ; we shall now hear something of Amelia and Emily, and the doings at Jawleyford Court." Mistaken lady ! If you are lucky enough to marry an out-and-out fox-huuter, you will find that a good run is only adding fuel to the fire, only making him anxious for more. Lord Scamperdale 's sporting fire was in full blaze. His bumps and his thumps, his rolls, and his scrambles, only brought out the beauties and perfections of the thing. He cared nothing for his hat-crown, no ; nor for his coat-lap either. Nay, he wouldn't have cared if it had been made into a spencer. "What's to-day ? Monday," said his lordship, answering him- self. " Monday," he repeated ; " Monday — bubble-and-squeak, I guess — sooner it's ready the better, for I'm half famished — didn't do half justice to that nice breakfast at Springy's. That nasty brown-booted buffer completely threw me off my feed. By the way, what became of the chestnut-booted animal ? " " Went home," replied Jack ; " fittest place for him." " Hope he'll stay there," rejoined his lordship. " No fear of his being at the roads to-morrow, is there ? " "None," replied Jack. " I told him it was quite an impossible distance from him, twenty miles at least." " That's grand ! " exclaimed his lordship ; " that's grand ! Then we'll have a rare, ding-dong hey — away pop. There'll be no end of those nasty, jealous, Puffington dogs out ; and if we have half such a scent as we had to-day, we'll sew some of them up, we'll show 'em what hunting is. Now," he added, " if you'll go and get the bottle of port, I'll clean myself, and then we'll have dinner as quick as we can." MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 185 CHAPTER XXIX. THE FAITHFUL GROOM. E left our friend Mr. Sponge wending his way home moodily, after having lost his day at Larkhall Hill. Some of our readers will, perhaps, say, why didn't he clap on, and try to catch up the hounds at a check, or at all events rejoin them for an afternoon fox ? Gentle reader ! Mr. Sponge did not hunt on those terms ; he was a front-rank or a " nowhere" man. and independently of catching hounds up, being always a fatigu- ing and hazardous speculation, especially on a fine-scenting day, the exertion would have taken more out of his horse than would have been desirable for successful display in a second run. Mr. Sponge, therefore, determined to go home. As he sauntered along, musing on the mishaps of the chase, wondering how Miss Jawleyford would look, and playing himself an occasional tune with his spur against his stirrup, who should come trotting behind him but Mr. Leather on the redoubtable chestnut ? Mr. Sponge beckoned him alongside. The horse looked blooming and bright ; his eye was clear and cheerful, and there was a sort of springy graceful action that looked like easy going. One always fancies a horse most with another man on him. We see all his good points without feeling his imperfections — his trippings, or startings, or snatchings, or borings, or roughness of action, and Mr. Sponge proceeded to make a silent estimate of Multum-in-Parvo's qualities as he trotted gently along on the grassy side of the somewhat wide road. 14/ COINO TO COVER. 186 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOOK. " By Jove ! it's a pity but his lordship had seen him," thought Sponge, as the emulation of companionship made the horse gradually increase his pace, and steal forward with the lightest freest action imaginable. " If he was but all right," continued Sponge, with a shake of the head, " he would be worth any money, for he has the strength of a dray-horse, with the symmetry and action of a racer." Then Sponge thought he shouldn't have an opportunity of showing the horse till Thursday, for Jack had satisfied him that the next day's meet was quite beyond distance from Jawleyford Court. " It's a bore," said he, rising in his stirrups, and tickling the piebald with his spurs, as if he were going to set-to for a race. He thought of having a trial of speed with the chestnut, up a slip of turf they were now approaching ; but a sudden thought struck him, and he desisted. " These horses have done nothing to-day," he said ; " why shouldn't I send the chestnut on for to-morrow ? " " Do you know where the cross-roads are ?" he asked his groom. " Cross-roads, cross-roads — what cross-roads ? " replied Leather. " Where the hounds meet to-morrow." "Oh, the cross-roads at Somethin' Burn," rejoined Leather, thoughtfully, — " no, 'deed, I don't," he addded. " From all 'counts, they seem to be somewhere on the far side of the world." That was not a very encouraging answer ; and feeling it would require a good deal of persuasion to induce Mr. Leather to go in search of them without clothing and the necessary requirements for his horses, Mr. Sponge went trotting on, in hopes of seeing some place where he might get a sight of the map of the county. So they proceeded in silence, till a sudden turn of the road brought them to the spire and housetops of the little agricultural town of Barleyboll. It differed nothing from the ordinary run of small towns. It had a pond at one end, an inn in the middle, a church at one side, a fashionable milliner from London, a merchant tailor from the same place, and a hardware shop or two where they also sold treacle, Dartford gunpowder, pocket-handkerchiefs, sheep-nets, patent medicines, cheese, blacking, marbles, mole-traps, men's hats, and other miscellaneous articles. It was quite enough of a town, however, to raise a presumption that there would be a map of the county at the inn. " We'll just put the horses up for a few minutes, I think," said Sponge, turning into the stable-yard at the end of the Red Lion Hotel and Posting House ; adding, " I want to write a letter, and perhaps," said he, looking at his watch, " you may be wanting your dinner." Having resigned his horse to his servant, Mr. Sponge walked MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 187 in, receiving the marked attention usually paid to a red coat. Mine host left his bar, where he was engaged in the usual occupa- tion of drinking with customers for the " good of the house." A map of the county, of such liberal dimensions, was speedily pro- duced, as would have terrified any one unaccustomed to distances and scales on which maps are laid down. For instance, Jawleyford Court, as the crow flies, was the same distance from the cross-roads at Dallington Burn as York was from London, in a map of England hanging beside it. " It's a goodish way," said Sponge, getting a lighter off the chimney-piece, and measuring the distances. " From Jawleyford Court to Billingsborough Rise, say seven miles ; from Billings- borough Rise to Downington Wharf, other seven ; from Downing- ton Wharf to Shapcot, which seems the nearest point, will be — say five or six, perhaps — nineteen or twenty in all. Well, that's my work," he observed, scratching his head, " at least, my hack's ; and from here, home," he continued, measuring away as he spoke, "will be twelve or thirteen. Well, that's nothing," he said. " Now for the horse," he continued, again applying the lighter in a different direction. " From here to Hardington, will be, say eight miles ; from Hardington to Bewley, other five ; eight and five are thirteen ; and there, I should say, he might sleep. That would leave ten or twelve miles for the morning ; nothing for a hack hunter ; 'specially such a horse as that, and one that's done nothing for I don't know how long." Altogether, Mr. Sponge determined to try it, especially consi- dering that if he didn't get Tuesday, there would be nothing till Thursday ; and he was not the man to keep a hack hunter standing idle. Accordingly he sought Mr. Leather, whom he found busily engaged in the servants' apartment, with a cold round of beef and a foaming flagon of ale before him. " Leather," he said, in a tone of authority, " I'll hunt to-morrow — ride the horse I should have ridden to-day." "Where at ? " asked Leather, diving his fork into a bottle of pickles, and fishing out an onion. " The cross-roads," replied Sponge. " The cross-roads be fifty mile from here ! " cried Leather. "Nonsense ! " rejoined Sponge ; " I've just measured the distance. It's nothing of the sort." " How far do you make it, then ? " asked Leather, tucking in the beef. " Why, from here to Hardington is about six, and from Hard- ington to Bewley, four— ten in all," replied Sponge. " You can stay at Bewley all night, and then it is but a few miles on in the morning:." 188 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. " And whativer am I to do for clothin' ? " asked Leather, adding, " I've nothin' with me — nothin' nouther for oss nor man." " Oh, the ostler '11 lend you what you want," replied Sponge, in a tone of determination ; adding, "you can make shift for one night, surely ? " JIR. LEATHER AND SPONGE HAVE A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION. " One night, surely ! " retorted Leather. " D'ye think an oss can't be ruined in one night ? — humph ! " " I'll risk it," said Sponge. "But I won't," replied Leather, blowing the foam from the tankard, and taking a long swig at the ale. " I thinks I knows my duty to my gov'nor better nor that," continued he, setting it down. " I'll not see his walnable 'unters stowed away in pigsties — not I, indeed." MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 189 The fact was, Leather had an invitation to sup with the servants at Jawleyford Court that night, and he was not going to be done out of his engagement, especially as Mr. Sponge only allowed him two shillings a day for expenses wherever he was. " Well, you're a cool hand, anyhow," observed Mr. Sponge, quite taken by surprise. " Cool 'and, or not cool 'and," replied Leather, munching away, " I'll do my duty to my master. I'm not one o' your coatless, characterless scamps wot 'ang about livery-stables ready to do anything they're bid. No, Sir, no," he continued, pronging another onion ; " / have some regard for the hinterest o' my master. I'll do my duty in the station o' life in which I'm placed, and won't be 'fraid to face no man." So saying Mr. Leather cut himself a grand circumference of beef. Mr. Sponge was taken aback, for he had never seen a conscien- tious livery-stable helper before, and did not believe in the exist- ence of such articles. However, here was Mr. Leather assuming a virtue, whether he had it or noc ; and Mr. Sponge being in the man's power, of course durst not quarrel with him. It was clear that Leather would not go ; and the question was, what should Mr. Sponge do ? " Why shouldn't I go myself ? " he thought, shutting his eyes, as if to keep his faculties free from outward distraction. He ran the thing quickly over in his mind, " What Leather can do, I can do," he said, remembering that a groom never demeaned himself by working where there was an ostler. " These things I have on will do quite well for to-morrow, at least among such rough-and-ready dogs as the Flat Hat men, who seem as if they had their clothes pitched on with a fork." His mind was quickly made up, and calling for pen, ink, and paper, he wrote a hasty note to Jawleyford, explaining why he would not cast up till the morrow ; he then got the chestnut out of the stable, and desiring the ostler to give the note to Leather, and tell him to go home with his hack, he just rode out of the yard without giving Leather the chance of saying " nay." He then jogged on at a pace suitable to the accurate measurement of the distance. The horse seemed to like having Sponge's red coat on better that Leather's brown, and champed his bit, and stepped away quite gaily. "Confound it ! " exclaimed Sponge, laying the rein on its neck, and leaning forward to pat him ; " it's a pity but you were always in this humour — you'd be worth a mint of money if you were." He then resumed his seat in the saddle, and bethought him how he would show them the way on the morrow. " If he doesn't beat every horse in the field, it shan't be my fault," thought he ; and thereupon he gave him the slightest possible touch with 190 MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. the spur, and the horse shot away up a strip of grass like an arrow. " By Jove, but you can go ! " said he, pulling up as the grass ran out upon the hard road. Thus he reached the village of Hardington, which he quickly cleared, and took the well-defined road to Bewley — a road adorned with mile-stones and set out with a liberal horse-track at either side. Day had closed ere our friend reached Bewley, but the children returning from school, and the country folks leaving their work, kept assuring him that he was on the right line, till the lights of the town, bursting upon him as he rounded the hill above, showed him the end of his journey. The best stalls at the head inn — the Bull's Head — were all full, several trusty grooms having arrived with the usual head-stalls and rolls of clothing on their horses, denoting the object of their mission. Most of the horses had been in some hours, and were now standing well littered up with straw, while the grooms were in the tap talking over their masters, discussing the merits of their horses, or arguing whether Lord Scamperdale was mad or not. They had just come to the conclusion that his lordship was mad, but not incapable of taking care of his affairs, when the trampling of Sponge's horse's feet drew them out to see who was coming next. Sponge's red coat at once told his tale, and procured him the usual attention. Mr. Leather's fear of the want of clothing for the valuable hunter proved wholly groundless, for each groom having come with a plentiful supply for his own horse, all the inn stock was at the service of the stranger. The stable, to be sure, was not quite so good as might be desired, but it was warm and water-tight, and the corn was far from bad. Altogether, Mr. Sponge thought he would do very well, and, having seen to his horse, proceeded to choose between beef-steaks and mutton chops for his own enter- tainment, and with the aid of the old country paper and some very questionable port, he passed the evening in anticipation of the sports of the morrow. MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 191 CHAPTER XXX. THE CROSS-ROADS AT DALLINGTON BURN. THE -MijK.N'I.M; K11)K To DALLINGToN. When his lordship and Jack mounted their hacks in theonorning to go to the cross roads at Dallington Burn, it was so dark that they could not see whether they were on bays or browns. It was a dull, murky day, with heavy spongy clouds overhead. There had been a great deal of rain in the night, and the horses poached and squashed as they went. Our sportsmen, how- ever, were prepared as well for what had fallen as for what might come ; for they were encased in enormously thick boots, with baggy overalls, and coats and waistcoats of the stoutest and most abundant order. They had each a sack of a macintosh strapped on to their saddle fronts. Thus they went blobbing and groping their way along, varying the monotony of the journey by an 192 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. occasional spurt of muddy water up into their faces, or the more nerve-trying noise of a floundering stumble over a heap of stones by the roadside. The country people stared with astonishment as they passed, and the muggers and tinkers, who were withdrawing their horses from the farmers' fields, stood trembling, lest they might be the " pollis " coming after them. " I think it'll be a fine day," observed his lordship, after they had bumped for some time in silence without its getting much lighter. " I think it will be a fine day," he said, taking his chin out of his great puddingy-spotted neckcloth, and turning his spectacled face up to the clouds. " The want of light is its chief fault," observed Jack ; adding, " it's deuced dark ! " " Ah, it'll get better of that," observed his lordship. " It's not much after eight yet," he added, staring at his watch, and with difficulty making out that it was half-past. " Days take off terribly about this time of year," he observed ; " I've seen about Christmas when it has never been rightly light all day long." They then floundered on again for some time further as before. " Shouldn't wonder if we have a large field," at length observed Jack, bringing his hack alongside his lordship's. " Shouldn't wonder if Puff himself was to come — all over brooches and rings as usual," replied his lordship. "And Charley Slapp, I'll be bund to say," observed Jack. "He's a regular hanger-on of Puff's." " Ass, that Slapp." said his lordship ; " hate the sight of him ! " "So do I," replied Jack ; adding, " hate a hanger-on ! " " There are the hounds," said his lordship, as they now approached Culverton Dean, and a line of something white was discernible travelling the zig-zagging road on the opposite side. "Are they, think you?" replied Jack, staring through his great spectacles ; " are they, think you ? It looks to me more like a flock of sheep." " I believe you're right," said his lordship, staring too ; "indeed, I hear the dog. The hounds, however, can't be far ahead." They then drew into single file to take the broken horse-track through the steep woody dean. " This is the longest sixteen miles I know," observed Jack, as they emerged from it, and overtook the sheep. " It is," replied his lordship, spurring his hack, who was now beginning to lag : " the fact is, it's eighteen," he continued ; " only if I was to tell Frosty it was eighteen, he would want to lay over- night, and that wouldn't do. Besides the trouble and incon- MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 193 lenience, it would spoil the best part of a five-pun d note ; and five-pund notes don't grow upon gooseberry-bushes — at least not in my garden." " Rather scarce in all gardens just now, I think," observed Jack ; " at least I never hear of anybody with one to spare." " Money's like snow," said his lordship, " a very meltable article ; and talking of snow," he said, looking up at the heavy clouds, " I wish we mayn't be going to have some — I don't like the look of things overhead." " Heavy," replied Jack ; " heavy : however, it's due about QOW." " Due or not due," said his lordship, " it's a thing one never wishes to come ; anybody may have my share of snow that likes — frost too." The road, or rather track, now passed over Blobbington Moor, and our friends had enough to do to keep their horses out of peat- holes and bogs, without indulging in conversation. At length they cleared the moor, and, pulling out a gap at the corner of the inclosures, cut across a few fields, and got on to the Stumpington turnpike. " The hounds are here," said Jack, after studying the muddy road for some time. "They'll not be there long," replied his lordship, "for Grabtintoll Gate isn't far a-head, and we don't waste- our substance on pikes." His lordship was right. The imprints soon diverged up a muddy lane on the right, and our sportsmen now got into a road so deep and bottomless as to put the idea of stones quite out of the question. " Hang the road ! " exclaimed his lordship, as his hack nearly came on his nose, "hang the road!" repeated he, adding, " if Puff wasn't such an ass, I really think I'd give him up the cross- road country." " It's bad to get at from us," observed Jack, who didn't like such trashing distances. " Ah ! but it's a rare good country when you get to it," replied his lordship, shortening his rein and spurring his steed. The lane being at length cleared, the road became more practic- able, passing over large pastures where a horseman could choose his own ground, instead of being bound by the narrow limits of the law. But though the road improved, the day did not ; a thick fog coming drifting up from the south-east in aid of the general obscurity of the scene. " The day's gettin' wuss" observed Jack, snuffling and staring about. " It'll blow over," replied his lordship, who was not easily 194 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. disheartened. " It'll blow over," repeated he, adding, " often rare scents such days as these. But we must put on," continued he, looking at his watch, "for it's half-past, and we are a mile or more off yet." So saying, he clapped spurs to his hack and shot away at a canter, followed by Jack at a long-drawn "hammer and pincers" trot. A hunt is something like an Assize circuit, where certain great guns show everywhere, and smaller men drop in here and there, snatching a day or a brief, as the case may be. Sergeant Blulf and Sergeant Huff rustle and wrangle in every court, while Mr. Meeke and Mr. Sneeke enjoy their frights on the forensic arenas of their respective towns, on behalf of simple neighbours, who look upon them as thorough Solomons. So with hunts. Certain men who seem to have been sent into the world for the express purpose of hunting, arrive at every meet, far and near, with a punctuality that is truly surprising, and rarely associated with pleasure. If you listen to their conversation, it is generally a dissertation on the previous day's sport, with inquiries as to the nearest way to cover the next. Sometimes it is seasoned with censure of some other pack they have been seeing. These men are mounted and appointed in a manner that shows what a perfect profession hunting is with them. Of course, they come cantering to cover, lest any one should suppose they ride their horses on. The " Cross Roads " was like two hunts or two circuits joining, for it generally drew the picked men from each, to say nothing of outriggers and chance customers. The regular attendants of either hunt were sufficiently distinguishable as well by the flat hats and baggy garments of the one, as by the dandified, Jemmy Jessamy air of the other. If a lord had not been at the head of the Flat Hats, the Puffington men would have considered them insufferable snobs. But to our day. As usual, where hounds have to travel a long distance, the field were assembled before they arrived. Almost all the cantering gentlemen had cast up. One cross-road meet being so much like another, it will not be worth while describing the one at Dallington Burn. The reader will have the kindness to imagine a couple of roads crossing an open common, with an armless sign-post on one side, and a rubble- stone bridge, with several of the coping-stones lying in the shallow stream below, on the other. The country round about, if any country could have been seen, would have shown wild, open, and cheerless. Here a patch of wood, there a patch of heath, but its general aspect bare and unfruitful. The commanding outline of Beechwood Forest was uot visible for the weather. Time now, let us suppose, half-past MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 195 ten, with a full muster of horsemen and a fog making unwonted dulness of the scene — the old sign-pole being the most conspicuous object of the whole. Hark ! what a clamour there is about it. It's like a betting- post at Newmarket. How loud the people talk ! what's the news Queen Ann dead, or is there another French Ee volution, or a fixed duty on corn ? Eeader, Mr. Puffington's hounds have had a run, and the Flat Hat men are disputing it. " Nothing of the sort ! nothing of the sort !" exclaims Fossick, " I know every yard of the country, and you can't make more nor eight of it anyhow, if eight." " Well, but I've measured it on the map," replied the speaker (Charley Slapp himself), " and it's thirteen, if it's a yard." " Then the country's grown bigger since my day," rejoins Fossick, "for I was dropped at Stubgrove, which is within a mile of where you found, and I've walked, and I've ridden, and I've driven every yard of the distance, and you can't make it more than eight, if it's as much. Can you, Capon ? " exclaimed Fossick, appealing to another of the " flat brims," whose luminous face now shone through the fog. " No," replied Capon ; adding, " not so much, I should say." Just then up trotted Frostyface with the hounds. " Good morning, Frosty ! good morning ! " exclaim half-a- dozen voices, that it would be difficult to appropriate from the denseness of the fog. Frosty and the whips make a general salute with their caps. "Well, Frosty, I suppose you've heard what a run we had yesterday ? " exclaims Charley Slapp, as soon as Frosty and the hounds are settled. " Had they, sir — had they ? " replies Frosty, with a slight touch of his cap and a sneer. " Glad to hear it, sir — glad to hear it. Hope they killed, sir — hope they killed?" with a still slighter touch of the cap. " Killed, aye ? — killed in the open just below Crabstone Green, in your country ; " adding, " It was one of your foxes I believe." "Glad of it, sir— glad of it, sir," replies Frosty. "They wanted blood sadly — they wanted blood sadly. Quite welcome to one of our foxes, sir — quite welcome. That's a brace and a 'alf they've killed." " Brace and a ha-r-r-f ! " drawls Slapp, in well-feigned disgust ; " brace and a ha-r-r-f ! — why, it makes them ten brace, and six run to ground." "Oh, don't tell 7w«?,",retorts Frosty, with a shake of disgust ; "don't tell me. I knows better — I knows better. They'd only killed a brace since they began hunting up to yesterday. The rest were 19ti MIL SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. all cubs, poor things ! — all cubs, poor things ! Mr. Puffington's hounds are not the sort of animals to kill foxes : nasty, skirtin', flashy, jealous divils ; always starin' about for holloas and assist- ance' I'll be d — d if I'd give eighteenpence for the 'ole lot on 'era." A loud guffaw from the Flat Hat men greeted this wholesale condemnation. The Puffington men looked unutterable things, and there is no saying what disagreeable comparisons might have been instituted (for the Puffingtonians mustered strong) had not his lordship and Jack cast up at the moment. Hats off and polite- ness was then the order of the day. " Mornin'," said his lordship, with a snatch of his hat in return, as he pulled up and stared into the cloud-enveloped crowd ; " Mornin', Fyle ; mormn', Fossick," he continued, as he distin- guished those worthies, as much by their hats as anything else. " Where are the horses ?" he said to Frostyface. " Just beyond there, my lord," replied the huntsman, pointing with his whip to where a cockaded servant was