444 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



" Master wins, for a 'undr'd ! " exclaims Leather, as, getting 

 into the third field, Mr. Sponge takes a decided lead ; and Lucy, 

 encouraged by the sound, looks up, and sees her " white jacket " 

 throwing the diy fallow in the faces of the field. 



"Oh, how I hope he ivill 1 " exclaims she, clasping her hands, 

 with upturned eyes ; but when she ventures on another look, she 

 sees old Spraggon drawing upon him, Hangallows's flaming red 

 jacket not far off, and several others nearer than she liked. Still 

 the tail was beginning to form. Another fence, and that a big one, 

 draws it out. A striped jacket is down, and the horse, after a vain 

 effort to rise, sinks lifeless on the ground. On they go all the same ! 



Loud yells of exciting betting burst from the spectators, and 

 Buckram gets well on for the cross. 



There are now five in front — Sponge, Spraggon, Hangallows, 

 Boville, and another ; and already the pace begins to tell. It 

 wasn't possible to run it at the rate they started. Spraggon 

 makes a desperate effort to get the lead ; and Sponge, seeing 

 Boville handy, pulls his horse, and lets the light-weight make play 

 over a rough, heavy fallow with the chestnut. Jack spurs and 

 flogs, and grins and foams at the mouth. Thus they get half 

 round the oval course. They are now directly in front of the hill, 

 and the spectators gaze with intense anxiety ; — now vociferating 

 the name of this horse, now of that ; now shouting " Red jacket ! " 

 now " White ! " while the blind fiddler perseveres with the old 

 melody of — " The Devil among the Tailors." 



" Now they come to the brook ! " exclaims Leather, who has 

 been over the ground ; and as he speaks, Lucy distinctly sees Mr. 

 Sponge's gather and effort to clear it ; and— oh, horror ! — the 

 horse falls — he's down — no, he's up ! — and her lover's in his seat 

 again ; and she flatters herself it was her sherry that saved him. 

 Splasli ! — a horse and rider duck under ; three get over ; two go 

 in ; now another clears it, and the rest turn tail. 



What splashing and screaming, and whipping and spurring, 

 and how hopeless the chance of any of them to recover their lost 

 ground. The race is now clearly between five. Now for the wall ! 

 It's five feet high, built of heavy blocks, and strong in the staked- 

 out part. As he nears it, Jack sits well back, getting Daddy 

 Longlegs well by the head, and giving him a refresher with the 

 whip. It is Jack's last move ! His horse comes, neck and crop, 

 over, rolling Jack up like a ball of worsted on the far side. At 

 the same moment, Multum-in-Parvo goes at it full tilt ; and not 

 rising an inch, sends Captain Boville flying one way, his saddle 

 another, himself a third, and the stones all ways. Mr. Sponge 

 then slips through, closely followed by Haugallows and a jockey 

 in yellow, with a tail of three after them. They then put on all 

 the steam they can raise over the twenty-acre pasture that follows. 



