234 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



twenty brace ; but that was as between Bragg and the public, 

 as between Bragg and his master the smaller figure was the 

 amount. 



Mr. Puffington had had enough of it, and he now thought if he 

 could get Mr. Sponge (who he still believed to be a sporting 

 author on his travels) to immortalise him, he might retire into 

 privacy, and talk of " when / kept hounds," " when I hunted the 

 country," " when / was master of hounds I did this, and / did 

 that," and fuss, and be important, as we often see X-masters of 

 hounds when they go out with other packs. It was this erroneous 

 impression with regard to Mr. Sponge tbat took our friend to the 

 meet of Lord Scamperdale's hounds at Scrambleford Green, when 

 he gave Mr. Sponge a general invitation to visit him before he 

 left the country, an invitation that was as acceptable to Mr. Sponge 

 on his expulsion from Jawleyford Court, as it was agreeable to 

 Mr. Puffington — by opening a route by which he might escape 

 from the penalty of hound-keeping, and the persecution of his 

 huntsman. 



The reader will therefore now have the kindness to consider 

 Mr. Puffington in receipt of Mr. Sponge's note, volunteering a 

 visit. 



With gay and cheerful steps our friend hurried off to the kennel, 

 to communicate the intelligence to Mr. Bragg of an intended 

 honour that he inwardly hoped would have the effect of 

 extinguishing that great sporting luminary. 



Arriving at the kennel, he learned from the old feeder, Jack 

 Horsehide, who, as usual, was sluicing the flags with water, 

 though the weather was wet, that Mr. Bragg was in the house (a 

 house that had been the steward's in the days of the former 

 owner of Hanby House). Thither Mr. Puffington proceeded ; and 

 the front door being open he entered, and made for the little 

 parlour on the right. Opening the door without knocking, what 

 should he find but the swell huntsman, Mr. Bragg, full fig, in his 

 cap, best scarlet and leathers, astride a saddle-stand, sitting for his 

 portrait ! 



" 0, dim it ! " exclaimed Bragg, clasping the front of the stand 

 as if it was a horse, and throwing himself off, an operation that 

 had the effect of bringing the new saddle on which he was seated 

 bang on the floor. " 0, sc-e-e-itse me, sir," seeing it was his 

 master, " I thought it was my servant ; this, sir," continued he, 

 blushing and looking as foolish as men do when caught getting 

 their hair curled or sitting for their portraits, — " this, sir, is my 

 friend, Mr. Puddle, the painter, sir — yes, sir— very talented 

 young man, sir — asked me to sit for my portrait, sir — is going to 

 publish a series of portraits of all the best huntsmen in England, 

 sir." 



