14 MR. sponge's sporting tour. 



Thus Mr. Sponge proceeded leisurely along, now nodding to this 

 man, now jerking his elbow to that, now smiling on a phaeton, now 

 sneering at a 'bus. If he did not look in at Shackell's, or hartley's, 

 or any of the dealers on the line, he was always to be found about 

 half-past five at Cumberland Gate, from whence he would strike 

 leisurely down the Park, and after coming to a long check at Rotten 

 Row rails, from whence he would pass all the cavalry in the Park in 

 review, he would wend his way-back to the Bantam, much in the 

 style he had come. This was his summer proceeding. 



Mr. Sponge had pursued this enterprising life for some "seasons" 

 — ten at least — and supposing him to have begun at twenty or one- 

 and-twenty, he would be about thirty at the time we have the plea- 

 sure of introducing him to our readers — a period of life at which 

 men begin to suspect they were not quite so wise at twenty as they 

 thought. Not that Mr. Sponge had any particular indiscretions to 

 reflect upon, for he was tolerably sharp, but he felt that he might 

 have made better use of his time, which may be shortly described as 

 having been spent in hunting all the winter, and in talking about 

 it all the summer. "With this popular sport he combined the diver* 

 sion of fortune-hunting, though we are concerned to say that his 

 success, up to the period of our introduction, had not been commen- 

 surate with his deserts. Let us, however, hope that brighter days 

 are about to dawn upon him. 



Having now introduced our hero to our male and female friends, 

 under his interesting pursuits of fox and fortune-hunter, it becomes 

 us to say a few words as to his qualifications for carrying them on. 



Mr. Sponge was a good-looking, rather vulgar-looking man. At 

 a distance — say ten yards — his height, figure, and carriage gave him 

 somewhat of a commanding appearance, but this was rather marred 

 by a jerky, twitchy, uneasy sort of air, that too plainly showed he 

 was not the natural, or what the lower orders call the real gentle- 

 man. Not that Sponge was shy. Far from it. He never hesitated 

 about offering to a lady, after a three days' acquaintance, or in asking 

 a gentleman to take him a horse in over night, with whom he might 

 chance to come in contact in the hunting-iield. And he did it all in 

 such a cool, off-hand, matter-of-course sort of way, that people who 

 would have stared with astonishment if anybody else had hinted at 

 such a proposal, really seemed to come into the humour and spirit 

 of the thing, and to look upon it rather as a matter of course than 

 otherwise. Then his dexterity in getting into people's houses was 

 only equalled by the difficulty of getting him out again, but this we 

 must waive for the present in favour of his portraiture. 



In height, Mr. Sponge was above the middle size — five feet eleven 

 or so — with a well borne up, not badly shaped, closely cropped oval 

 head, a tolerably good, but somewhat receding forehead, bright hazel 

 eyes, Roman nose, with carefully tended whiskers, reaching the cor- 



