390 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 



disinherit mo if ar was such a chap. However, look sharp," con- 

 tinued he, " if you are goin' to clean yourself ; for dinner'll be 

 ready in no time, indeed, I hear Mrs. End dishin' it up." So 

 saying, Facey rolled out of the room, and Sponge presently heard 

 him pulling off his clogs of shoes in the adjoining one. Dinner 

 spoke for itself, for the house reeked with the smell of fried onions 

 and roast pork. 



Now, Sponge didn't like pork ; and there was nothing but pork, 

 or pig in one shape or another. Spare ribs, liver and bacon, 

 sausages, black puddings, &c, — all very good in their way, but 

 which came with a bad grace after the comforts of Jog's, the 

 elegance of Puffington's, and the early splendour of Jawleyford's. 

 Our hero was a good deal put out, and felt as if he was imposed 

 upon. What business had a man like this to ask him to stay with 

 him — a man who dined by daylight, and ladled his meat with a 

 great two -pronged fork ? 



Facey, though he saw Mr. Sponge wasn't pleased, praised and 

 pressed everything in succession down to a very strong cheese ; 

 and as the slip-shod girl whisked away crumbs and all in the 

 coarse table-cloth, he exclaimed in a most open-hearted air, " Well, 

 now, what shall we have to drink ? " adding, " You smoke, of 

 course — shall it be gin, rum, or Hollands — Hollands, rum, or gin ?" 



Sponge was half inclined to propose wine, but recollecting what 

 sloe-juice sort of stuff it was sure to be, and that Facey, in all 

 probability, would make him finish it, he just replied, " Oh, I don't 

 care ; 'spose we say gin ? " 



" Gin be it," said Facey rising from his seat, and making for a 

 little closet in the wall, he produced a bottle labelled "Fine 

 London Spirit ; " and, hallooing to the girl to get a few " Captins " 

 out of the bos under his bed, he scattered a lot of glasses about 

 the table, and placed a green dessert-dish for the biscuits against 

 they came. 



Night had now closed in — a keen, boisterous, wintry night, 

 making the pocketful of coals that ornamented the grate peculiarly 

 acceptable. 



" B-o-y Jove, what a night ! " exclaimed Facey, as a blash of 

 sleet dashed across the window as if some one had thrown a hand- 

 ful of pebbles against it. , " B-o-y Jove, what a night ! " repeated 

 he, rising and closing the shutters, and letting down the little scanty 

 red curtain. " Let us draw in and have a hot brew," continued 

 he, stirring the fire under the kettle, and handing a lot of cigars 

 out of the table-drawer. They then sat smoking and sipping, and 

 smoking and sipping, each making a mental estimate of the other. 



" Shall we have a game at cards ? or what shall we do to pass 

 the evenin' ? " at length asked our host. " Better have a game 

 at cards, p'raps," continued he. 



