MR. sponge's sporting tour. 305 



not -have suited himself better. Lady Scattercash could ride — in- 

 deed, she used to do scenes in the circle (two horses and a flag)— and 

 she could drive, and smoke, and sing, and was possessed of many other 

 accomplishments. Sir Harry would sometines drink straight an end 

 for a week, and then not taste wine again for a month ; sometimes 

 the hounds hunted, and sometimes they did not; sometimes they 

 were advertised, and sometimes they were not ; sometimes they went 

 out on one day, and sometimes on another ; sometimes they were fixed 

 to be at such a place, and went to quite a different one. When Sir 

 Harry was on a drinking-bout, they were shut up altogether ; and 

 the huntsman, Tom Watchorn, late of the " Camberwell and Balham 

 Hill Union Harriers," an early acquaintance of Miss Spangles — in- 

 deed, some said he was her uncle — used to go away on a drinking 

 excursion too. Altogether, they were what the country people called 

 a very "promiscuous set." The hounds were of all sorts and sizes; 

 the horses of no particular stamp ; and the men scamps and vaga- 

 bonds of the first class. 



With such a master and such an establishment, we need hardly 

 say that no stranger ever came into the country for the purpose of 

 hunting. Sir Harry's fields were entirely composed of his own choice 

 " set," and a few farmers, and people whom he could abuse and do 

 what he liked with. Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, to be sure, had men- 

 tioned Sir Harry approvingly, when he went to Mr. Puffington's, 

 to inveigle Mr. Sponge over to Puddingpote Bower ; but what might 

 suit Mr. Jogglebury, who went out to seek gibbey-sticks, might not 

 suit a-person who went out for the purpose of hunting a fox in order 

 to show off and sell his horses. In fact, Puddingpote Bower was an 

 exceedingly bad hunting quarter, as things turned out. Sir Harry 

 Scattercash, having had the run described in our two preceding 

 chapters, and having just imported a few of the " sock-and-buskin " 

 sort from town, was not likely to be going out again for a time ; 

 while Mr. Puffing-ton, finding where Mr. Sponge had taken refuge, 

 determined not to meet within reach of Puddingpote Bower, if he 

 could possibly help it ; and Lord Scamperdale was almost always be- 

 yond distance, unless horse and rider lay out over-night — a proceed- 

 ing always deprceated by prudent sportsmen. Mr. Sponge, therefore, 

 got more of Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey's company than he wanted, and 

 Sir. Crowdey got more of Mr. Sponge's than he desired. In vain Jog 

 took him up into his attics and his closets, and his various holes and 

 corners, and showed him his enormous crop of sticks — some tied in 

 sheaves, like corn; some put up more sparingly; and others, a ga m, 

 wrapped in silver paper, with their valuable heads enveloped in old 

 gloves. Jog would untie the strings of these, and placing the heads 

 in the most favourable position before our friend, just as an artist 

 would a portrait, question him as to whom he thought they were. 



