340 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



landmarks, but they were all the same sort — clumps of trees on 

 hill-tops, and plantations on hill-sides, but nothing of a dis- 

 tinguishing character, nothing that a stranger could say, " I 

 remember seeing that as I came ; " or, " I remember passing that 

 in the run." The landscape seemed all alike : north, south, east, 

 and west, equally indifferent. 



" Curse the thing," said Mr. Sponge, adjusting himself in his 

 saddle, and looking about ; " I haven't the slightest idea where I 

 am. I'll blow the horn, and see if that will bring any one." 



So saying, he applied the horn to his lips, and blew a keen, 

 shrill blast, that spread over the surrounding country, and was 

 echoed back by the distant hills. A few lost hounds cast up from 

 various quarters, in the unexpected way that hounds do come to a 

 horn. Among them were a few branded with S,* who did not at 

 all set off the beauty of the rest. 



" 'Ord rot you, you belong to that old ruffian, do you ? " 

 said Mr. Sponge, riding and cutting at one with his whip, ex- 

 claiming, "Get away to him, ye beggar, or I'll tuck you up 

 short." 



He now, for the first time, saw them together in anything like 

 numbers, and was struck with the queerness and inequality of the 

 whole. They were of all sorts and sizes, from the solemn towering 

 calf-like fox-hound down to the little wriggling harrier. They 

 3eemed, too, to be troubled with various complaints and 

 infirmities. Some had the mange ; some had blear eyes ; some 

 had but one ; many were out at the elbows ; and not a few down 

 at the toes. However, they had killed a fox, and " Handsome 

 is that handsome does," said Mr. Sponge, as, with his horse 

 surrounded by them, he moved on in quest of his way home. 



At first, he thought to retrace his steps by the marks of 

 his horse's hoofs, and succeeded in getting back to the dean, 

 where Sir Harry's hounds changed foxes with Lord Scamperdale's ; 

 but he got confused with the imprints of the other horses, and 

 very soon had to trust entirely to chance Chance, we are sorry 

 to say, did not befriend him ; for, after wandering over the wide- 

 extending downs, he came upon the little hamlet of Tinkler 

 Hatch, and was informed that he had been riding in a semi- 

 circle. 



He there got some gruel for his horse, and, with day closing in, 

 now set off, as directed, on the Ribchester Road, with the 

 assurance that he " couldn't miss his way." Some of the hounds 

 here declined following him any further, and slunk into cottages 

 and outhouses as they passed along. Mr. Sponge, however, did 

 not care for their company. 



* " S," for Scaraperdale. showing they were his lordship's. 



