mr. sponge's SPORTING TOUR. 233 



the smooth slope from the field. As he reined in his horse, he £ave 

 his cap an aerial sweep, taking off perpendicularly, and finishing at his 

 horse's ears — an example that was immediately followed by the whips, 

 and also by Mr. Bragg's second horseman, Tom Stot. 



" Good morning, Mister Bragg ! — Good morning, Mister Bragg ! 

 — Good morning, Mister Bragg ! " burst from the assembled specta- 

 tors ; for Mr. Bragg was one of those people that one occasionally 

 meets whom every body " Misters." Mr. Bragg, rising in his 

 stirrups with a gracious smile, passed a very polite bow along the 

 line. 



" Here's a .fine morning, Mr. Bragg," observed Tom Washball, 

 who thought it knowing to talk to servants. 



" Yas, sir," replied Bragg, " yas," with a slight inclination to 

 cap ; " r-a-y-ther more san, p'raps, than desirable," continued he, 

 raising his face towards the heavens; " but still by no means a bad 

 day, sir — no, sir — by no means a bad day, sir." 



"Hounds looking well," observed Charley Slapp between the 

 whiffs of a cigar. 



" Yas, sir," said Bragg — " yas," looking around them with a self- 

 satisfied smile ; adding, " so they ought, sir — so they ought ; if / 

 can't bring a pack out as they should be, don't know who can." 



" Why, here's our old Bummager, I declare ! " exclaimed Sprag- 

 gon, who, having vaulted the iron hurdles, was now among the pack. 

 " Why, here's our old Rummager, I declare ! " repeated he, laying 

 his whip on the head of a solemn-looking black and white hound, 

 somewhat down in the toes, and looking as if he was about done. 



" Sc-e-e-use me, sir," replied Bragg, leaning over his horse's 

 shoulder, and whispering into Jack's ear ; " sc-e-e-use me, sir, but 

 drop that, sir, if you please, sir." 



" Drop what ? " asked Jack, squinting through his great tortoise- 

 shell-rimmed spectacles up into Bragg's face. 



" 'Bout knowing of that 'ound, sir," whispered Bragg ; " the fact 

 is, sir — we call him Merryman, sir ; master don't know I got him 

 from you, sir." 



" O-o-o," replied Jack, squinting, if possible, more frightfully than 

 before. 



" Ab, that's the hound I offered to Scamperdale," observed Puff- 

 ington, seeing the movement, and coming up to where Jack stood ; 

 " that's the hound I offered to Scamperdale," repeated he, taking the 

 old dog's head between his hands. u . There's no better hound in the 

 world than this," continued he, patting and smoothing him; " and no 

 better bred hound either," added he, rubbing the dog's sides with his 

 whip. 



" How is he bred ? " asked Jack, who knew the hound's pedigree 

 better than he did his own. 



" Why, I got him from Reynard — no, I mean from Downeybird 



