MR. sponge's sporting tour. 139 



that he might have plodded on on the line, and perhaps seen or heard 

 what became of the fox, but Sponge didn't hunt on those terms. 

 Like a good many other gentlemen, he would be first, or nowhere. 



If it was any consolation to him, he had plenty of companions in 

 misfortune. The line was dotted with horsemen, back to the brick- 

 fields. The first person he overtook wending his way home in the 

 discontented, moody humour of a thrown-out man, was Mr. Puffing- 

 ton, master of the Hanby hounds ; at whose appearance at the meet 

 we expressed our surprise. 



Neighbouring masters of hounds are often more or less jealous of 

 each other. No man in the master-of-hound world is too insignificant 

 for censure. Lord Scamperdale ivas an undoubted sportsman ; while 

 poor Mr. Puffington thought of nothing but how to be thought one. 

 Hearing the mistaken rumour that a great writer was down, he 

 thought that his chance of immortality was arrived ; and ordering 

 his best horse, and putting on his best apparel, had braved the jibes 

 and sneers of Jack and his lordship for the purpose of scraping ac- 

 quaintance with the stranger. In that he had been foiled : there was 

 no time at the meet to get introduced, neither could he get jostled 

 beside Sponge in going down to the cover ; while the quick find, the 

 quick get away, followed by the quick thing we have described, were 

 equally unfavourable to the undertaking. Nevertheless, Mr. Puffing- 

 ton had held on beyond the brick-fields ; and had he but persevered a 

 little further, he would have had the satisfaction of helping Mr. 

 Sponge out of the bog. 



Sponge now, seeing a red coat a little before, trotted on, and 

 quickly overtook a fine nippy, satin-stocked, dandified looking gentle- 

 man, with marvellously smart leathers and boots — a great contrast to 

 the large, roomy, bargeman-like costume of the members of the Flat 

 Hat Hunt, 



" You're not hurt, I hope ? " exclaimed Mr. Puffington, with 

 well-feigned anxiety, as he looked at Mr. Sponge's black-daubed 

 clothes. 



" Oh no ! " replied Sponge. " Oh no ! — fell soft — fell soft. More 

 dirt, less hurt — more dirt, less hurt." 



" Why, you've been in a bog ! " exclaimed Mr. Puffington, eyeing 

 the much-stained Hercules. 



" Almost over head," replied Sponge. " Scamperdale saw me 

 going, and hadn't the grace to holloa." 



" Ah, that's like him," replied Mr. Puffington,—" that's like him : 

 there's nothing pleases him so much as getting fellows into grief." 



" Not very polite to a stranger," observed Mr. Sponge. 



" No, it isn't," replied Mr. Puffington, — " no, it isn't; far from it, 

 indeed — far from it ; but, low be it spoken," added he, " his lordship 

 is only a roughish sort of customer." 



