MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 311 



Leather, followed Sir Harry through a foil and four-in-hand whip-hung 

 hall to the deserted breakfast-room, where chairs stood in all direc- 

 tions, and crumpled napkins strewed the floor. The litter of eggs and 

 remnants of muffins, and diminished piles of toast, and broken bread 

 and empty toast-racks, and cups and saucers, and half-emptied glasses, 

 and wholly emptied champagne bottles, were scattered up and down 

 a disorderly table, further littered with newspapers, letter backs, 

 County Court summonses, mustard-pots, anchovies, pickles — all the 

 odds and ends of a most miscellaneous meal. The side-table exhibited 

 cold joints, game, poultry, lukewarm hashed vension, and sundry lamp- 

 lit dishes of savory grills. 



" Here you are ! " exclaimed Sir Harry, taking his hunting-whip 

 and sweeping the contents of one end of the table on to the floor 

 with a crash that brought in the butler and some theatrical-looking 

 servants. 



" Take those filthy things away!" (hiccup), exclaimed Sir Harry, 

 crushing the broken china smaller under his heels ; and (hiccup) 

 bring some red-herrings and soda-water. What the deuce does the 

 (hiccup) cook mean by not (hiccuping) things as he ought ? " Now," 

 said he, addressing Mr. Sponge, and raking the plates and dishes up 

 to him with the handle of his whip, just as a gaming-table keeper 

 rakes up the stakes, " now," said he, " make your (hiccup) game. 

 There'll be some hot (hiccup) in directly." He meant to say " tea," 

 but the word failed him. 



Mr. Sponge fell to with avidity. He was always ready to eat, 

 and attacked first one thing and then another, as though he had not 

 had any breakfast at Puddingpote Bower. 



Sir Harry remained mute for some minutes, sitting cross-legged 

 and backwards in his chair, with his throbbing temples resting upon 

 the back, wondering where it was that he had met Mr. Sponge. He 

 lookefl. different without his hat ; and though he saw it was no one he 

 knew particularly, he could not help thinking he had seen him before. 



Indeed, he thought it was clear, from Mr. Sponge's manner, that 

 they had met, and he was just going to ask him whether it was at 

 Offley's or the Coal Hole, when a sudden move outside attracted his 

 attention. It was the hounds. 



The huntsman's horse having at length returned from the fiddler 

 hunt, and being whisped over, and made tolerably decent, Mr. 

 Watchorn, having exchanged the postilion saddle in which it had been 

 ridden, for a horn-cased hunting one, had mounted, and opening the 

 kennel-door, had liberated the pent-up pack, who came tearing out 

 full cry, and spread themselves over the country, regardless alike of 

 •the twang, twang, twang of the horn and the furious onslaught of a 

 couple of stable lads in scarlet and caps, who, true to the title of 

 " whippers-in," let drive at all they could get within reach of. The 

 hounds had' not been out, even to exercise, since the Snobston-Green 



