mr. sponge's SPOUTING TOUR. 325 



" "What ! you fell in with that mealy-mouthed gentleman, who 

 can't (hiccup) swear because he's a (hiccup) lord, did you ? " asked 

 Sir Harry, his attention being now drawn to our friend. 



" / did" replied Mr. Sponge ; " and a pretty passage of politeness 

 we had of it." 



" Indeed ! (hiccup)," exclaimed Sir Harry. " Tell us (hiccup) 

 all about it." 



" "Well," said Mr. Sponge, laying the brush lengthways before 

 him on the table, as if he was going to demonstrate upon it. u Well, 

 you see we had a devil of a run — I don't know how many miles, as 

 hard as ever we could lay legs to the ground ; one by one the field 

 all dropped astern, except the huntsman and myself. At last he gave 

 in, or rather his horse did, and I was left alone in my glory. "Well, 

 we went over the downs at a pace that nothing but blood could live 

 with, and, though my horse has never been beat, and is as thorough- 

 bred as Eclipse — a horse that I have refused three hundred guineas 

 for over and over again, I really did begin to think I might get to 

 the bottom of him, when all of a sudden we came to a dean." 



" Ah ! Cockthropple that would be," observed Sir Harry. 



" Dare say," replied Mr. Sponge ; " Cock-anything-you-like-to- 

 call-it for me. Well, when we got there, I thought we should have 

 some breathing time, for the fox would be sure to hug it. But no ; 

 no sooner had I got there than a countryman hallooed him away on 

 the far side. I got to the halloo as quick as I could, and just as 

 I was blowing the horn," producing "Watchorn's from his pocket as 

 he spoke ; u for I must tell you," said he, " that when I saw the 

 huntsman's horse was beat, I took tim from him — a horn to a foot 

 huntsman being of no more use, you know, than a side- pocket to a 

 cow, or a frilled shirt to a pig. Well, as I was tootleing the horn 

 for hard life, who should turn out of the wood but old mealy-mouth 

 himself, as you call him, and a pretty volley of abuse he let drive 

 at me." 



" Xo doubt," hiccupned Sir Harry; "but what was he doing 

 there ? " 



" Oh ! I should tell you," replied Mr. Sponge, " his hounds had 

 run a fox into it, and were on him full cry when I got there.' 



" I'll be bund," cried Sir Harry, "it was all sham — that he just 

 (hiccup) and excuse for getting into that cover. The old (hiccup) 

 beggar is always at some trick, (hiccup)ing my foxes or disturbing 

 my covers or something." Sir Harry being just enough of a master 

 of hounds to be jealous of the neighbouring ones. 



'• Well, however, there he was," continued Mr. Sponge ; " and 

 the first intimation I had of the fact was a great, gruff voice, exclaim- 

 ing, ' Who the Dickens are you ? ' 



Who the Dickens are you ? ' replied I." 

 Bravo ! " shouted Sir Harry. 



u l 



