ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 151 



" The ladies drink white wine — slurry " — 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, Jawleyford'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,''' "indecds," " 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 Mpcheese'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 : — 



