MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 31$ 



Mr. Sponge, too, applauded. " Well, that was very clever," 

 said he, filling bis mouth with cold ham. " ' Saddle my dog, and 

 bridle my hog' — I'll trouble you for another cup of tea,"' 

 addressing Mrs. Crowdey. 



"No, not 'saddle my dog,' sil-l-e-y man ! " drawled the child, 

 making a pet lip ; " ' saddle my hog.' " 



" Oh ! ' saddle my hog,' was it ? " replied Mr. Sponge, with 

 apparent surprise; "I thought it was 'saddle my dog.' I'll 

 trouble you for the sugar, Mrs. Jogglcbury ; " adding, " you have- 

 devilish good cream here ; how many cows have you ? " 



" Cows (puff), cows (wheeze) ?" replied Jogglebury ; "how many 

 cows ? " repeated he. 



" Oh, two, " replied Mrs. Jogglebury, tartly, vexed at the 

 interruption. 



" Pardon me (puff)," replied Jogglebury, slowly and solemnly, 

 with a full blow into his frill ; " pardon me, Mrs. (puff) Joggle- 

 bury (wheeze) Crowdey, but there are three (wheeze)." 



" Not in viillc, Jog — not in milk" retorted Mrs. Crowdey. 



"Three cows, Mrs. (puff) Jogglebury (wheeze) Crowdey, not- 

 withstanding," rejoined our host. 



" Well ; but when people talk of cream, and ask how many cows- 

 you have, they mean in milk, Mister Jogglebury Crowdey." 



"Not necessarily, Mistress Jogglebury Crowdey," replied the 

 pertinacious Jog, with another heavy snort. 



"Ah, now you're coming your fine poor-law guardian knowledge," 

 rejoined his wife. Jog was chairman of the Stir-it-stiff Union. 



While this was going on, young hopeful was sitting cocked up 

 in his high chair, evidently mortified at the want of attention. 



Mrs. Crowdey saw how things were going, and, turning from 

 the cow question, endeavoured to re-engage him in his recitations. 



"Now, my angel!" exclaimed she, again showing him the 

 sugar ; " tell us about ' Obin and Ichard.' " 



"No — not 'Obin and Ichard,'" pouted the child. 



" yes, my sweet, do, that's a good child ; the gentleman in the 

 pretty coat, who gives baby the nice things, wants to hear it." 



" Come, out with it, young man ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, now 

 putting a large piece of cold beef into his mouth. 



" Not a 'ung man," muttered the child, bursting out a-crying r 

 and extending his little fat arms to his mamma. 



"No, my angel, not a 'ung man yet," replied Mrs. Jogglebury, 

 taking him out of the chair, and hugging him to her bosom. 



" He'll be a man before his mother for all that," observed Mr- 

 Sponge, nothing disconcerted by the noise. 



Jog had now finished his breakfast, and having pocketed three 

 buns and two pieces of toast, with a thick layer cf cold ham 

 between them, looked at his great warming-pan of a watch, and 



