94 MR. sponge's sporting tour. 



cut decanters, accompanied the old 36s. port ; and apples, pears, nuts, 

 figs, preserved fruits, occupied the splendid green-and-gold dessert set. 

 Everything, of course, was handed about — an ingenious way of tor- 

 menting a person that has " dined." The ladies sat long, Mrs. Jaw- 

 leyford taking three glasses of port (when she could get it) ; and it 

 was a quarter to eight when they rose from the table. 



Jawleyford then moved an adjournment to the fire ; which Sponge 

 gladly seconded, for he had never been warm since he came into the 

 house, the heat from the fires seeming to go up the chimneys. Spigot 

 set them a little round table, placing the port and claret upon it, and 

 bringing them a plate of biscuits in lieu of the dessert. He then 

 reduced the illumination on the table, and extinguished such of the 

 lamps as had not gone out of themselves. Having cast an approv- 

 ing glance around, and seen that they had what he considered right, 

 he left them to their own devices. 



" Do you drink port or claret, Mr. Sponge ? " asked Jawleyford, 

 preparing to push whichever he preferred over to him. 



" I'll take a little port, firsts if you please," replied our friend — 

 as much as to say, " I'll finish off with claret." 



" You'll find that very good, I expect," said Mr. Jawleyford, pass- 

 ing the bottle to him ; " it's '20 wine — very rare wine to get now — 

 was a very rich fruity wine, and was a long time before it came into 

 drinking. Connoisseurs would give any money for it." 



" It has still a good deal of body," observed Sponge, turning off 

 a glass and smacking his lips, at the same time holding the glass up 

 to the candle to see the oily mark it made on the side. 



" Good sound wine — good sound wine," said Mr. Jawleyford. 

 " Have plenty lighter, if you like." The light wine was made by 

 watering the strong. 



" Oh no, thank you," replied Mr. Sponge, " oh no, thank you. I 

 like good strong military port." 



" So do I," said Mr. Jawleyford, " so do I ; only unfortunately it 

 doesn't like me — am obliged to drink claret. When I was in the 

 Bumperkin yeomanry we drank nothing but port." And then Jaw- 

 leyford diverged into a long rambling dissertation on messes and 

 cavalry tactics, which nearly sent Mr. Sponge asleep. 



" Where did you say the hounds are to-morrow ? " at length 

 asked he, after Mr. Jawleyford had talked himself out. 



" To-morrow," repeated Mr. Jawleyford, thoughtfully, to-morrow 

 — they don't hunt to-morrow — not one of their days — next day. 

 Scrambleford-green — Scrambleford-green — no, no, I'm wrong — Dun- 

 dleton Tower — Dundleton Tower." 



" How far is that from here ? " asked Mr. Sponge. 



u Oh, ten miles — say ten miles," replied Mr. Jawleyford. It was 

 sometimes ten, and sometimes fifteen, depending upon whether Mr. 

 Jawleyford wanted the party to go or not. These elastic places, 



