2 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



does to the south ; it is sure to bring one up, sooner or later. A 

 man can hardly get over either of them without knowing it. 

 Well, Soapey having got into Oxford Street, would make his way 

 at a squarey, in-kneed, duck-toed, sort of pace, regulated by the 

 bonnets, the vehicles, and the equestrians he met lo criticise ; for 

 of women, vehicles, and horses, he had voted himself a consummate 

 judge. Indeed he had fully established in his own mind that 

 Kiddey Downey and he were the only men in London who really 

 knew anything about horses, and fully impressed with that 

 conviction, he would halt, and stand, and stare, in a way that with 

 any other man would have been considered impertinent. Perhaps 

 it was impertinent in Soapey — we don't mean to say it wasn't — 

 but he had done it so long, and was of so sporting a gait and cut, 

 that he felt himself somewhat privileged. Moreover, the majority 

 of horsemen are so satisfied with the animals they bestride, that 

 they cock up their jibs and ride along with a " find any fault with 

 either me or my horse, if you can " sort of air. 



Thus Mr. Sponge proceeded leisurely along, now nodding to this 

 man, now jerking his elbow to that, now smiling on a phaeton, 

 now sneering at a 'bus. If he did not look in at Shackell's, or 

 Bartley's, or any of the dealers on the line, he was always to be 

 found about half-past five at Cumberland Gate, from whence he 

 would strike leisurely down the Park, and after coming to a long 

 check at Rotten Row rails, from whence he would pass all the cavalry 

 in the Park in review, he would wend his way back to the Bantam, 

 much in the style he had come. This was his summer proceeding. 



Mr. Sponge had pursued this enterprising life for some 

 " seasons " — ten at least — and supposing him to have begun at 

 twenty or one-and-twenty, he would be about thirty at the time we 

 have the pleasure of introducing him to our readers — a period of life 

 at which men begin to suspect they were not quite so wise at twenty 

 as they thought. Not that Mr. Sponge had any particular indis- 

 cretions to reflect upon, for he was tolerably sharp, but he felt 

 that he might have made better use of his time, which may be 

 shortly described as having been spent in hunting all the winter, 

 and in talking about it all the summer. With this popular sport 

 he combined the diversion of fortune-hunting, though we are 

 concerned to say that his success, up to the period of our 

 introduction, had not been commensurate with his deserts. Let us, 

 however, hope that brighter days are about to dawn upon him. 



Having now introduced our hero to our male and female friends, 

 under his interesting pursuits of fox and fortune-hunter, it becomes 

 us to say a few words as to his qualifications for carrying them on. 



Mr. Sponge was a good-looking, rather vulgar-looking man. At 

 a distance — say ten yards — his height, figure, and carriage gave 

 him somewhat of a commanding appearance, but this was rather 



