348 3IE. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



At last they got to singing, and when men begin to sing, it is 

 a sign that they are either drunk, or have had enough of each 

 other's company. Sir Harry's hiccup, from which he was never 

 wholly free, increased tenfold, and he hiccuped and spluttered at 

 almost every word. His hand, which shook so at starting that it 

 was odds whether he got his glass to his mouth or his ear, was now 

 steadied, but his glazed eye and green haggard countenance showed 

 at what a fearful sacrifice the temporary steadiness had been 

 obtained. At last his jaw dropped on his chest, his left arm hung 

 listlessly over the back of the chair, and he fell asleep. Captain 

 Quod, too, was overcome, and threw himself full-length on the 

 sofa. Captain Seedybuck began to talk thick. 



Just as they were all about brought to a stand-still, the tramp- 

 ling of horses, the rumbling of wheels, and the shrill twang, 

 twang, twang, of the now almost forgotten mail horn, roused them 

 from their reveries. 



It was Sir Harry's drag scouring the country in search of our 

 party. It had been to all the public-houses and beer-shops within 

 a radius of some miles of Nonsuch House, and was now taking a 

 speculative blow through the centre of the circle. 



It was a clear frosty night, and the horses' hoofs rang, and the 

 wheels rolled soundly over the hard road, cracking the thin ice, 

 yet hardly sufficiently frozen to prevent a slight upshot from the 

 wheels. 



Twang, twang, twang, went the horn full upon Farmer Pea- 

 straw's house, causing the sleepers to start, and the waking ones 

 to make for the window. 



" Coach- a-hoy ! " cried Bob Spangles, smashing a pane in a 

 vain attempt to get the window up. The coachman pulled up at 

 the sound. 



" Here we are, Sir Harry ! " cried Bob Spangles, into his brother- 

 in-law's ear, but Sir Harry was too liar gone ; he could not " come 

 to time." Presently a footman entered with furred coats, and 

 shawls, and checkered rugs, in which those who were sufficiently 

 sober enveloped themselves, and those who were too far gone were 

 huddled by Peastraw and the man ; and amid much hurry and 

 confusion, and jostling for inside seats, the party freighted the 

 coach, and whisked away before Mr. Sponge knew where he was. 



When they arrived at Nonsuch House, they found Mr. Bugles 

 exercising the fiddlers by dancing the ladies in turns. 



The position, then, of Mr. Sponge was this. He was left on a 

 frosty, moonlight night at the door of a strange farmhouse, staring 

 after a receding coach, containing all his recent companions. 



" You'll not be goin' wi' 'em then ? " observed Mr. Peastraw, 

 who stood beside him, listening to the shrill notes of the horn 

 dying out in the distance. 



