MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 85 



about it not long; before, and dusting the portrait of himself in 

 his green-and-gold yeomanry uniform, with an old pocket- 

 handkerchief. 



" The crimson room, my dear," replied the well-drilled Mrs. 

 Jawleyford ; and Spigot coming with candles, Jawleyford preceded 

 " Mr. Sponge " up a splendid richly-carved oak staircase, of such 

 gradual and easy rise that an invalid might almost have been drawn 

 up it in a garden-chair. 



Passing a short distance along a spacious corridor, Mr. Jawley- 

 ford presently opened a door to the right, and led the way into a 

 large gloomy room, with a little newly-lighted wood fire crackling 

 in an enormous grate, making darkness visible, and drawing the 

 cold out of the walls. We need scarcely say it was that terrible 

 room — the best ; with three creaking, ill-fitting windows, and 

 heavy crimson satin-damask furniture, so old as scarcely to be able 

 to sustain its own weight. 



" Ah I here you are," observed Mr. Jawleyford, as he nearly 

 tripped over Sponge's luggage as it stood by the fire. " Here you 

 are," repeated he, giving the candle a flourish, to show the size of 

 the room, and draw it back on the portrait of himself above the 

 mantel-piece. " Ah ! I declare here's an old picture of myself," 

 said he, holding the candle up to the face, as if he hadn't seen it 

 for some time, — "a picture that was done when I was in the 

 Bumperkin yeomanry," continued he, passing the light before the 

 facings. " That was considered a good likeness at the time," said 

 he, looking affectionately at it, and feeling his nose to see if it was 

 still the same size : "ours was a capital corps — one of the best, if 

 not the very best in the service. The inspecting officer always 

 spoke of it in the highest possible terms — especially of my company, 

 which really was just as perfect as anything my Lord Cardigan, 

 or any of your crack disciplinarians, can produce. However, 

 never mind," continued he, lowering the candle, seeing Mr. Sponge 

 didn't enter into the spirit of the thing ; " you'll be wanting to 

 dress. You'll find hot water on the table yonder," pointing to the 

 far corner of the room, where the outline of a jug might just be 

 descried ; " there's a bell in the bed if you want anything ; and 

 dinner will be ready as soon as you are dressed. You needn't make 

 yourself very fine," added he, as he retired ; " for we are only our- 

 selves : hope we shall have some of our neighbours to-morrow or 

 next day, but we are rather badly off for neighbours just here — at 

 least for short-notice neighbours." So saying, he disappeared 

 through the dark doorway. 



The latter statement was true enough, for Jawleyford, though 

 apparently such a fine open-hearted, sociable sort of man, was in 

 reality a very quarrelsome, troublesome fellow. He quarrelled with 

 all his neighbours in succession, generally getting through them 



