MR. sponge's sporting tour. 63 



of the most vital importance to him ; " great run, sir ; no, sir, not a 

 ivord ! " 



The doctor then retailed it. 



Old Jackey got possessed of this one idea — he thought of nothing 

 else. Whoever came, he out with it, chapter and verse, with occa- 

 sional variations. He told it to all the " cousins in waiting ! " Jackey 

 Thompson, of Carrington Ford; Jackey Thompson, of Houndesley ; 

 Jackey Thompson, of the Mill ; and all the Bobs, Bills, Sams, Har- 

 ries, and Peters, composing the respective litters ; — forgetting where 

 he got it from, he nearly told it back to Lotion himself. We some- 

 times see old people affected this way — far more enthusiastic on a 

 subject than young ones. Few dread the aspect of affairs so much as 

 those who have little chance of seeing how they go. 



But to the run. The cousins reproduced the story according to 

 their respective powers of exaggeration. One tacked on two miles, 

 another ten, and so it went on and on, till it reached the ears of the 

 great Mr. Seedeyman, the mighty we of the country, as he sat in his 

 den penning his " stunners " for his market-day Mercury. It had 

 then distanced the great sea-serpent itself in length, having extended 

 over thirty-three miles of country, which Mr. Seedeyman reported to 

 have been run in one hour and forty minutes. 



Pretty good going, we should say. 



CHAPTER X. 



THE FEELER. 



Bag fox-hunts, be they ever so good, are but unsatisfactory things ; 

 drag runs are, beyond all measure, unsatisfactory. After the best- 

 managed bag fox-hunt, there is always a sort of suppressed joy, a 

 deadly liveliness in the field. Those in the secret are afraid of prais- 

 ing it too much, lest the secret should ooze out, and strangers suppose 

 that all their great runs are with bag foxes, while the mere retaking 

 of an animal that one has had in hand before is not calculated to 

 arouse any very pleasurable emotions. Nobody ever goes frantic at 

 seeing an old donkey of a deer handed back into his carriage after a 

 canter. 



Our friends on this occasion soon exhausted what they had to say 

 on the subject. 



" That's a nice horse of yours," observed Mr. Waffles to Mr. 

 Sponge, as the latter, on the strength of the musty brush, now rode 

 alongside the master of the hounds. 



