MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 355 



" Well, then, Jog, I was thinking if anything should have ha — 

 ha — happened Mr. Sponge, how Gustavus Ja — Ja — James will 

 have lost his chance." And thereupon she dived for her lace- 

 fringed pocket-handkerchief, and hurried out of the room. 



But Mrs. Jog had said quite enough to make the caldren of Jog's 

 jealousy boil over, and he sat staring into the fire, imagining all 

 sorts of horrible devices in the coals and cinders, and conjuring up 

 all sorts of evils, until he felt himself possessed of a hundred and 

 twenty thousand devils. 



" I'll get shot of this chap at last," said he, with a knowing jerk 

 of his head and a puff into his frill, as he drew his thick legs under 

 his chair, and made a semicircle to get at the bottle. " I'll get 

 ghot of this chap," repeated he, pouring himself out a bumper of the 

 syrupy port, and eyeing it at the composite candle. He drained 

 off the glass, and immediately filled another. That, too, went down ; 

 then he took another, and another, and another ; and seeing the bottle 

 get low, he thought he might as well finish it. He felt better after 

 it. Not that he was a bit more reconciled to our friend Mr. Sponge, 

 but he felt more equal to cope with him — he even felt as if he could 

 fight him. There did not, however, seem to be much likelihood 

 of his having to perform that ceremony, for nine o'clock struck and 

 no Mr. Sponge, and at half-past Mr. Crowdey stumped off to bed. 



Mrs. Crowdey, having given Bartholomew and Susan a dirty 

 pack of cards to play with to keep them awake till Mr. Sponge 

 arrived, went to bed, too, and the house was presently tranquil. 



It, however, happened, that that amazing prodigy, Gustavus 

 James, having been out on a sort of eleemosynary excursion among 

 the neighbouring farmers and people, exhibiting as well his fine 

 blue feathered hat, as his astonishing proficiency in " Bah ! bah ! 

 black sheep," and " 'Obin and Ichard," getting seed-cake from 

 one, sponge-cake from another, and toffy from a third, was troubled 

 with a very bad stomach-ache during the night, of which he soon 

 made the house sensible by his screams and his cries. Jog and his 

 wife were presently at him ; and, as Jog sat in his white cotton 

 nightcap and flowing flannel dressing-gown in an easy chair in the 

 nursery, he heard the crack of the whip, and the prolonged yeea- 

 iju-u-p of Mr. Sponge's arrival. Presently the trampling of a horse 

 was heard passing round to the stable. The clock then struck one. 



" Pretty hour for a man to come home to a strange house ! " 

 observed Mr. Jog, for the nurse, or Murry Ann, or Mrs. Jog, or any 

 one that liked, to take up. 



Mrs. Jog was busy with the rhubarb and magnesia, and the 

 others said nothing. After the lapse of a few minutes, the clank, 

 clank, clank of Mr. Sponge's spurs was heard as he passed round 

 to the front, and Mr. Jog stole out on to the landing to hear how 

 he would get in. 



