MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 259 



Puff into believing that there's not such another huntsman under 

 the sun, and really he's as great a muff as ever walked. He can 

 just dress the character, and that's all." So saying, Jack wiped 

 his mouth on the sleeve of his red coat preparatory to displaying 

 Mr. Bragg upon paper. 



" Well, now we are at fault," said Jack, motioning Sponge to 

 resume ; " we are at fault ; now say, ' but Mr. Bragg who had 

 ridden gallantly on his favourite bay, as fine an animal as ever 



went, though somewhat past mark of mouth ' He is a good 



horse, at least was" observed Jack ; adding, " I sold Puff him, 

 he was one of old Sugarlip's," meaning Lord Scamperdale's. 



" Sure to be a good'un then," replied Sponge, with a wink ; 

 adding, " I wonder if he'd like to buy any more." 



" We'll talk about that after," replied Jack, " at present let us 

 get on with our run." 



" Well," said Sponge, " I've got it : ' Mr. Bragg who had ridden 

 gallantly on his favourite bay, as fine an animal as ever went, 

 though somewhat past mark of mouth ' " 



" ' Was well up with his hounds,' " continued Jack, " ' and 

 with a gently Rantipole ! and a single wave of his arm, proceeded 

 to make one of those scientific casts for which this eminent hunts- 

 man is so justly celebrated.' Justly celebrated ! " repeated Jack, 

 spitting on the carpet with a hawk of disgust ; " the conceited self- 

 sufficient bantam-cock never made a cast worth a copper, or rode a 

 yard but when he thought somebody was looking at him." 



"I've got it," said Sponge, who had plied his pen to good 

 purpose. 



" Justly celebrated," repeated Jack, with a snort. " Well, then, 

 say, ' Hitting off the scent like a workman,' — big H, you know, for 

 a fresh sentence, — ' they went away again at score, and passing by 

 Moorlinch farm-buildings, and threading the strip of plantation by 

 Bexley Burn, he crossed Silverbury Green, leaving Longford Hutch 

 to the right, and passing straight on by the gibbet at Harpen.' 

 Those are all bits of places," observed Jack, " that none but the 

 country folks know ; indeed, I shouldn't have known them but for 

 shootin' over them when old Bloss lived at the Green. Well, now 

 have you got all that ? " asked he. 



" ' Gibbet at Harpen,' " read Sponge, as he wrote it. 



" ' Here, then, the gallant pack, breaking from scent to view,'' " 

 continued Jack, speaking slowly, " ' run into their fox in the open 

 close upon Mountnessing Wood, evidently his point from the first, 

 and into which a few more strides would have carried him. It was 

 as fine a run as ever was seen, and the hunting of the hounds was 

 the admiration of all who saw it. The distance couldn't have been 

 less than' — than what shall we say ? " asked Jack. 



" Ten, twelve miles, as the crow flies," suggested Sponge. 



