438 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



Mr. Spavin, the horse-dealer's yard in Oxford Street, when 

 not in the country on similar excursions, to the present. And 

 now in the throng on the principal line are two conspicuous 

 horses — a piebald and a white — carrying Mr. Sponge and 

 Lucy Glitters. Lucy appears as she did on the frosty-day 

 hunt, glowing with health and beauty, and rather straining the 

 seams of Lady Scattercash's habit with the additional embonpoint 

 she has acquired by early hours in the country. She has made 

 Mr. Sponge a white silk jacket to ride in, which be has on under 

 his grey tarriar coat, and a cap of the same colour is in his hard 

 hat. He has discarded the gosling-green cords for cream- 

 coloured leathers, and, to please Lucy, has actually substituted a 

 pair of rose-tinted tops for the " 'hogany bouts." Altogether he is 

 a great swell, and very like the bridegroom. 



But hark — what a crash ! The leaders of Sir Harry Scatter- 

 cash's drag start at a blind fiddler's dog stationed at the gate lead- 

 ing into the fields, a wheel catches the post, and in an instant the 

 sham captains are scattered about the road : — Bouncey on his head, 

 Seedeybuck across the wheelers, Quod on his back, and Sir Harry 

 astride the gate. Meanwhile, the old fiddler, regardless of the shouts 

 of the men and the shrieks of the ladies, scrapes away with the 

 appropriate tune of " The Devil among the Tailors ! " A rush to 

 the horses' heads arrests further mischief, the dislodged captains 

 are at length righted, the nerves of the ladies composed, and Sir 

 Harry once more essays to drive them up the hill to the stand. 

 That feat being accomplished, then came the unloading, and 

 consternation, and huddling of the tight-laced occupants at the 

 idea of these female women coming amongst them, and the usual 

 peeping and spying, and eyeing of the " creatures" " What 

 impudence ! " " Well, I think ! " " Ton my word ! " ' ; What 

 next ! " — exclamations that were pretty well lost upon the fair 

 objects of them amid the noise and flutter and confusion of the 

 scene. But hark again ! What's up now ? 



" ffoovaj ! " " hooray ! " " h-o-o-o-r&y ! " " Three cheers for the 

 Squire ! H~o-o-o : r&y ! " Old Puff as we live ! The " amazin' instance 

 of a pop'lar man " greeted by the Swillingford snobs. The old frost- 

 bitten dandy is flattered by the cheers, and bows condescendingly ere 

 he alights from the well-appointed mail phaeton. See how graciously 

 the ladies receive him, as, having ascended the stairs, he appears 

 among them. " A man is never to old to marry " is their maxim. 



The cry is still, " They come ! they come ! " See at a hand- 

 gallop, with his bay pony in a white lather, rides Pacey, grinning 

 from ear to ear, with his red-backed betting-book peeping out of 

 the breast pocket of his brown cutaway. He is staring and 

 .gaping to see who is looking at him. 



Pacey has made such a book as none but a wooden-headed boy 



