80 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



looked considerably greater after the flying rapidity of the rail. 

 But for these occasional returns to terra firma, people would begin 

 to fancy themselves birds. After rounding a large but gently 

 swelling hill, over the summit of which the road, after the fashion 

 of old roads, led, our traveller suddenly looked down upon the 

 wide vale of Sniperdown, with Jawleyford Court glittering with a 

 bright open aspect, on a fine, gradual elevation, above the broad, 

 smoothly-gliding river. A clear atmosphere, indicative either of 

 rain or frost, disclosed a vast tract of wild, flat, ill-cultivated- 

 looking country to the south, little interrupted by woods or signs 

 of population ; the whole losing itself, as it were, in an indistinct 

 gray outline, commingling with the fleecy white clouds in the 

 distance. 



" Here we be," observed Watson, with a nod towards where a 

 tarnished red-and-gold flag floated, or rather flapped lazily in the 

 winter's breeze, above an irregular mass of towers, turrets, and 

 odd-shaped chimneys. 



Jawleyford Court was a fine old mansion, partaking more of the 

 character of a castle than a Court, with its keep and towers, 

 battlements, heavily grated mullioned windows, and machicolated 

 gallery. It stood, sombre and gray, in the midst of gigantic but 

 now leafless sycamores, — trees that had to thank themselves for 

 being sycamores ; for, had they been oaks, or other marketable 

 wood, they would have been made into bonnets or shawls long 

 before now. The building itself was irregular, presenting different 

 sorts of architecture, from pure Gothic down to some even per- 

 fectly modern buildings ; still, viewed as a whole, it was massive 

 and imposing : and as Mr. Sponge looked down upon it, he 

 thought far more of Jawleyford and Co. than he did as the mere 

 occupants of a modest, white-stuccoed, green-verandahed house, at 

 Laverick Wells. Nor did his admiration diminish as he advanced, 

 and, crossing by a battlemented bridge over the moat, he viewed 

 the massive character of the buildings rising grandly from their 

 rocky foundation. An imposing, solemn-toned old clock began 

 striking four, as the horsemen rode under the Gothic portico, 

 whose notes re-echoed and reverberated, and at last lost themselves 

 among the towers and pinnacles of the building. Sponge, for a 

 moment, was awe-stricken at the magnificence of the scene, feeling 

 that it was what he would call " a good many cuts above him ; " 

 but he soon recovered his wonted impudence. 



" He would have me," thought he, recalling the pressing nature 

 of the Jawleyford invitation. 



" If you'll hold my nag," said Watson, throwing himself off the 

 shaggy white, " I'll ring the bell," added he, running up a wide 

 flight of steps to the hall-door. A riotous peal announced the 

 arrival. 



