70 mr. sponge's sporting tour. 



domineering "ivhoay" adding, as he landed in the saddle and snatched 

 at the reins, " Do you think I stole you ? " 



Whatever the horse's opinion might be on that point, he didn't 

 seem to care to express it, for finding kicking alone wouldn't do, he 

 immediately commenced rearing too, and, by a desperate plunge broke 

 away from the groom, before Thornton had either got him by the 

 head or his feet in the stirrups. Three most desperate bounds he 

 gave, rising at the bit as though he would come back over if the hold 

 was not relaxed, and the fourth effort bringing him to the opposite 

 kerb-stone, he up again with such a bound and impetus that he 

 crashed right through Messrs. Frippery and Flummery's fine plate 

 glass window, to the terror and astonishment of their elegant young 

 counter-skippers, who were busy arranging their ribbons and finery for 

 the day. Right through the window Hercules went, switching through 

 book muslins and bareges as he would through a bullfinch, and at- 

 tempting to make his exit by a large plate glass mirror against the 

 wall of the cloak room beyond, which he dashed all to pieces with 

 his head. Worse remains to be told. " Multum in Parvo," seeing 

 his old comrade's hind-quarters disappearing through the window, 

 just took the bit between his teeth, aDd followed, in spite of Mr. 

 Sponge's every effort to turn him ; and when at length he got him 

 hauled round, the horse was found to have decorated himself with a 

 sky-blue visite trimmed with Honiton lace, which he wore like a 

 charger on his way to the Crusades, or a steed bearing a knight to 

 the Eglinton tournament. 



Quick as it happened, and soon as it was over, all Laverick Wells 

 seemed to have congregated in the street as our heroes rode out of 

 the folding glass-doors. 



CHAPTER XII. 



AN OLD FRIEND. 



About a fortnight after the above catastrophe, and as the recollection 

 of it was nearly effaced by Miss Jumphcavy's abduction of Ensign 

 Downley, our friend, Mr. Waffles, on visiting his stud at the four 

 o'clock stable hour, found a most respectable, middle-aged, rosy-gilled, 

 better-sort-of-farmer-looking man, straddling his tight drab-trousered 

 legs, with a twisted ash plant propping his chin, behind the redoubta- 

 ble Hercules. He had a bran-new hat on, a velvet-collared blue coat, 

 with metal buttons, that anywhere but in the searching ^lare and 

 contrast of London might have passed for a spic-and-spau new one ; 

 *a small, striped, step-collared toilanctte vest ; and the aforesaid drab 



