MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 23 



Such was the gentleman elected to succeed the silent, matter-of- 

 fact Mr. Slocdolager in the important office of Master of the 

 Laverick Wells Hunt ; and whatever may be the merits of either — 

 upon which we pass no opinion — it cannot be denied that they 

 were essentially different. Mr. Slocdolager was a man of few 

 words, and not at all a ladies' man. He could not even talk when 

 he was crammed with wine, and though he could hold a good 

 quantity, people soon found out they might just as well pour it 

 into a jug as down his throat, so they gave up asking him out. 

 He was a man of few coats, as well as of few words ; one on, and 

 one off, being the extent of his wardrobe. His scarlet was growing 

 plum-colour, and the rest of his hunting-costume has been already 

 glanced at. He lodged above Smallbones, the veterinary-surgeon, 

 in a little back street, where he lived in the quietest way, dining 

 when he came in from hunting, — dressing, or rather changing, 

 only when he was wet, hunting each fox again over his brandy - 

 and-water, and bundling off to bed long before many of his 

 •'field" had left the dining-room. He was little better than a 

 better sort of huntsman. 



Waffles, as we said before, had made himself conspicuous 

 towards the close of Mr. Slocdolager's reign, chiefly by his dashing 

 costume, his reckless riding, and his off-hand way of blowing up 

 and slanging people. 



Indeed, a stranger would have taken him for the master, a 

 delusion that was heightened by his riding with a formidable- 

 looking sherry-case, in the shape of a horn, at his saddle. Save 

 when engaged in sucking this, his tongue was never at fault. It 

 was jabber, jabber, jabber ; chatter, chatter, chatter ; prattle, 

 prattle, prattle ; occasionally about something, oftener about 

 nothing, but in cover or out, stiff country or open, trotting or 

 galloping, wet day or dry, good scenting day or bad, Waffles' 

 clapper never was at rest. Like all noisy chaps, too, he could 

 aot bear any one to make a noise but himself. In furtherance of 

 this, he called in the aid of his Oxfordshire rhetoric. He would 

 holloo at people, designating them by some peculiarity that he 

 thought he could wriggle out of, if necessary instead of attacking 

 them by name. Thus, if a man spoke, or placed himself where 

 Waffles thought he ought not to be (that is to say, any where 

 but where Waffles was himself), he would exclaim, " Pray, sir, hold 

 your tongue ! — you, sir ! — no, sir, not you — the man that speaks 

 as if he had a brush in his throat ! " — or, " Do come away, sir ! — 

 you, sir ! — the man in the mushroom-looking hat ! " — or, " that 

 •.gentleman in the parsimonious boots ! " looking at some one with 

 yery narrow tops. 



Still he was a rattling, good-natured, harum-scarum fellow ; and 

 masterships of hounds, memberships of Parliament — all expensive 



