MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUE. 417 



" There's Bob in his old purple," said she, eyeing her brother 

 hustling along; "and there's ' Fat ' in his new Moses and Son ; 

 and Bouncey iu poor Wax's coat ; and there's Harry all legs and 

 wings, as usual," added she, as her husband was seen flibberty- 

 gibbertying it along. 



" And there's Lucy ; and where's Miss Howard, I wonder ? " 

 observed Orlando, straining his eyes after the scrambling field. 



Nothing but the inspiriting aid of "churapine," and the hope 

 that the tiling would soon terminate, sustained Mr. Watchorn 

 under the infliction in which he so unexpectedly found himself; 

 for nothing would have tempted him to brave such a frost with 

 the burning scent of a game four-legged fox. The park being 

 spacious, and enclosed by a high plank paling, he hoped the fox 

 would have the manners to confine himself within it j and so long 

 as his threadings and windings favoured the supposition, our 

 huntsman bustled along, yelling and screaming in apparent ecstasy 

 at the top of his voice. The hounds, to be sure, wanted keeping 

 together, for Frantic as usual had shot ahead, while the gorged 

 pig-pailers could never extricate themselves from the ponies. 



" F-o-o-o-r-r-a-r-d 1 f-o-o-o-r-r-a-r-d! f-o-o-o-r-r-a-r-d ! " elon- 

 gated Watchorn, rising in his stirrups, and looking back with a 

 grin at George Cheek, who was plying his weed with the whip, 

 exclaiming, " Ah, you confounded young warmint, I'll give you a 

 warmin' ! I'll teach you to jaw about 'untin' ! " 



As he turned his head straight to look at his hounds, he was 

 shocked to see Frantic falling backwards from the first attempt 

 to leap the park-palings, and just as she gathered herself for a 

 second effort, Desperate, Chatterer, and Galloper, charged in line 

 and got over. Then came the general rush of the pack, attended 

 with the usual success — some over, some back, some a-top of others. 



" Oh, the devil ! " exclaimed Watchorn, pulling up short in a 

 perfect agony of despair. " Oh, the devil ! " repeated he in a 

 lower tone, as Mr. Sponge approached. 



" Where's there a gate ? " roared our friend, skating up. 



" Gate ! there's never a gate within a mile, and that's locked," 

 replied Watchorn, sulkily. 



" Then here goes ! " replied Mr. Sponge, gathering the chestnut 

 together to give him an opportunity of purging himself of his 

 previous faux pas. " Here goes ! " repeated he, thrusting his 

 hard hat firmly on his head. Taking his horse back a few paces, 

 Mr. Sponge crammed him manfully at the palings, and got over 

 with a rap. 



" Well done you ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters in delight ; adding 

 to Watchorn, " Now old Beardey, you go next." 



Beardey was irresolute. He pretended to be anxious to get the 

 tail hounds over. 



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