112 mr. sponge's sporting tour. 



" Tom Washball ! " exclaimed a third. 



" Heads more foxes than any man in the country," puffed a 

 fourth. 



" Always nicking and skirting," exclaimed a fifth 



" Never comes to the meet," added a sixth. 



" Come on a cow to-day," observed another. 



" Always chopping and changing," added another ; " he'll come 

 on a giraffe next." 



Having commenced his career with the " F. H. H." so inauspi- 

 ciously and yet escaped detection, Mr. Sponge thought of letting Tom 

 Washball enjoy the honours of his faux-pas, and of sneaking quietly 

 home as soon as the hounds hit off the scent ; but unluckily just as they 

 were crossing the lane, what should heave in sight, cantering along at 

 his leisure, but the redoubtable Multum in Parvo, who, having got rid 

 of old Leather by bumping and thumping his leg against a gate-post, 

 was enjoying a line of his own. 



" Whoay ! " cried Sponge, as he saw the horse quickening his pace 

 to have a shy at the hounds as they crossed. " Who — o — a — y ! " roared 

 he, brandishing his whip, and trying to turn the piebald round ; but 

 no, the brute wouldn't answer the bit, and dreading lest, in addition 

 to heading the fox, he should kill " the best hound in the pack," Mr. 

 Sponge threw himself off, regardless of the mud-path in which he lit, 

 and caught the runaway as he tried to dart past. 



« For-rard f—for-rard f—for-rard ! " was again the cry, as the 

 hounds hit off the scent ; while the late pausing, panting sportsmen 

 tackled vigorously with their steeds, and swept onward like the ca- 

 reering wind. 



Mr. Sponge, albeit somewhat perplexed, had still sufficient pres- 

 ence of mind too see the necessity of immediate action ; and though 

 he had so lately contemplated beating a retreat, the unexpected ap- 

 pearance of Parvo altered the state of affairs. 



" Now or never," said he, looking first at the disappearing field, 

 and then for the non-appearing Leather. " Hang it ! I may as well 

 see the run," added he ; so hooking the piebald on to an old stone 

 gate-post that stood in the ragged fence, and lengthening a stirrup- 

 leather, he vaulted into the saddle, and began lengthening the other 

 as he went. 



It was one of Parvo's going days ; indeed, it was that that old 

 Leather and he had quarrelled about — Parvo wanting to follow the 

 hounds, while Leather wanted to wait for his master. And Parvo 

 had the knack of going, as well as the occasional inclination. Although 

 such a drayhorse-looking animal, he could throw the ground behind 

 him amazingly ; and the deep-holding clay in which he now found 

 himself was admirably suited to his short powerful legs and enormous 

 stride. The consequence was, that he was very soon up with the hind- 

 most horsemen. These he soon passed, and was presently among 



