MR. sponge's sporting tour. 319 



" Ah ! dash ye, you may have that" said he, cutting at theni 

 with his whip, as they clustered upon it like a swarm of bees. They 

 had not had a wild fox for five weeks. 



" Who-hoop ! " cried Mr. Sponge, in the hopes of attracting some 

 of the field. " Who-hoop ! " repeated he as loud as he could halloo. 

 " Where can they all be, I wonder? " said he, looking around; and 

 echo answered — where ? 



The hounds had now crunched their fox, or as much of him as 

 they wanted. Old Marksman ran about with his head, and Warrior 

 with a haunch. 



" Drop it, you old beggar ! " cried Mr. Sponge, cutting at Marks- 

 man with his whip, and Mr. Sponge being too near to make a 

 trial of speed prudent, the old dog did as he was bid, and slunk 

 away. 



Our friend then appended this proud trophy to his saddle -Hap by 

 a piece of whipcord, and, mounting the now tractable Hercules, be- 

 gan to cast about in search of a landmark. Like most down coun- 

 tries, this one was somewhat deceptive; there were plenty of land- 

 marks, but they were all the same sort — clumps of trees on hill-tops, 

 and plantations on hill-sides, but nothing of a distinguishing charac- 

 ter, nothing that a stranger could say, " I remember seeing that as 

 I came ; " or, " I remember passing that in the run." The land- 

 scape seemed all alike : north, south, east, and west, equally indif- 

 ferent. 



" Curse the thing," said Mr. Sponge, adjusting himself in his 

 saddle, and looking about; u I haven't the slightest idea where I am. 

 I'll blow the horn, and see if that will bring any one." 



So saying, he applied the horn to his lips, and blew a keen, shrill 

 blast, that spread over the surrounding country, and was echoed back 

 by the distant hills. A few lost hounds cast up from various quar- 

 ters* in the unexpected way that hounds do come to a horn. Among 

 them were a few branded with S,* who did not at all set off the 

 beauty of the rest. 



" 'Ord rot you, you belong to that old ruffian, do you ? " said 

 Mr. Sponge, riding and cutting at one with his whip, exclaiming, 

 <( Get away to him, ye beggar, or I'll tuck you up short." 



He now, for the first time, saw them together in anything like 

 numbers, and was struck with the queerness and inequality of the 

 whole. They were of all sorts and sizes, from the solemn towering 

 calf-like fox-hound down to the little wriggling harrier. They 

 seemed, too, to be troubled with various complaints and infirm: 

 Some had the mange ; some had blear eyes ; some had but one ; 

 many were out at the elbows ; and not a few down at the toes. 

 However, they had killed a fox, and " Handsome is that handsome 



* "S," for Seamperdale, showing they were his lordship'?. 



