MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 421 



the like. " Well, I'm dashed if it arn'fc dangerous ! " continued 

 he, thumping his hand against his thick thigh, as the white nearly 

 slipped upon landing. " F-o-r-r-ard! for-rard! hoop ! " screeched 

 he, as he saw Miss Glitters looking back to see where he was. 

 F-o-r-rard ! for-rard /" repeated he; adding, in apparent 

 delight, " My eyes, but we're in for a stinger ! Hold up, horse I " 

 roared he, as his horse now went starring up to the knees through 

 a long sheet of ice, squirting the clayey water into his rider's face. 

 " Hold up ! " repeated he ; adding, " I'm dashed if one mightn't as 

 well be crashin' over the Christial Palace as ridin' over a country 

 froze in this way ! 'Ord rot it, how cold it is ! " continued he, 

 blowing on his finger-ends ; " I declare my 'ands are quite numb. 

 Well done, old brown bouts ! " exclaimed he, as a crash on the right 

 attracted his attention ; "well done, old brown bouts ! — broke every 

 bar i' the gate ! " adding, " but I'll let Mr. Buckram know the way 

 his beautiful osses are 'bused. Well," continued he, after along skate 

 down the grassy side of Ditchburn Lane, " there's no fun in this — 

 none whatever. Who the deuce would be a huntsman that could be 

 anything else ? Dash it ! I'd rayther be a hosier — I'd rayther be 

 a 'atter — I'd rayther be an undertaker — I'd rayther be a Pusseyite 

 parson — I'd rayther be a pig-jobber — I'd rayther be a besom- 

 maker — I'd rayther be a dog's-meat man — I'd rayther be a cat's- 

 meat man — I'd rayther go about a sellin' of chickweed and sparrow- 

 grass ! " added he, as his horse nearly slipped up on his haunches. 



" Thank 'eavens there's relief at last ! " exclaimed he, as on 

 rising Gimmerhog Hill he saw Farmer Saintfoin's southdowns 

 wheeling and clustering, indicative of the fox having passed; 

 " thank 'eavens, there's relief at last ! " repeated he, reining up his 

 horse to see the hounds charge them. 



Mr. Sponge and Miss Glitters were now in the bottom below, 

 fighting their way across a broad mill-course with a very stiff fence 

 on the taking-off side. 



"Hold up!" roared Mr. Sponge, as having bored a hole through 

 the fence, he found himself on the margin of the water-race. The 

 horse did hold up, and landed him — not without a scramble — on 

 the far side. " Run him at it, Lucy ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, 

 turning his horse half round to his fair companion. " Run him 

 at it, Lucy ! " repeated he ; and Lucy, fortunately hitting the gap, 

 skimmed o'er the water like a swallow on a summer's eye. 



" Well done ! you're a trump ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, standing 

 in his stirrups, and holding on by the mane as his horse rose the 

 opposing hill. 



He just got up in time to save the muttons ; another second 

 and the hounds would have been into them. Holding up his hand 

 to beckon Lucy to stop, he sat eyeing them intently. Many of 

 them had their heads up, and not a few were casting sheeps' eyes 



