MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



CHAPTER XLVIL 



SIR HARRY SCATTERCASH's HOUNDS. 



HE reason Mr. Sponge did not 

 take his departure, after the 

 pretty intelligible hint given 

 by his host, was, that as he 

 was passing his shilling army 

 razor over his soapy chin, he 

 saw a stockingless lad, in a 

 purply coat and faded hunt- 

 ing-cap, making his way up to 

 the house, at a pace that 

 betokened more than ordinary 

 vagrancy. It was the kennel, 

 stable, and servants' hall 

 courier of Nonsuch House, 

 come to say that Sir Harry 

 hunted that day. 



Presently Mr. Leather 

 knocked at Mr. Sponge's 

 bedroom door, and, being- 

 invited in, announced the fact. 

 " Sir Arry's 'ounds 'unt," said he, twisting the door handle as he 

 spoke. 



" What time ? " asked Mr. Sponge, with his half-shaven face 

 turned towards him. 



" Meet at eleven," replied Leather. 

 " Where ? " inquired Mr. Sponge. 

 " Nonsuch House, 'bout nine miles off." 



It was thirteen, but Mr. Leather heard the malt liquor was 

 good, and wanted to taste it. 



"Take on the brown, then," said Mr. Sponge, quite pompously ; 

 " and tell Bartholomew to have the hack at the door at ten — or 

 say a quarter to. Tell him, I'll lick him for every minute he's 

 late ; and, mind, don't let old Rorey O'More here know," meaning 

 our friend Jog, " or he may take a fancy to go, and we shall never 

 get there," alluding to their former excursion. 

 " No, no," replied Mr. Leather, leaving the room. 

 Mr. Sponge then arrayed himself in his hunting costume — scarlet 

 coat, green tie, blue vest, gosling coloured cords, and brown tops ; 

 and was greeted with a round of applause from the little Jogs as 

 he entered the breakfast room. Gustavus James would handle 



THE NONSUCH COI'HIER. 



