3-4-1 MR. sponge's sporting tour. 



" You're what they call a (wheeze) fellow," growled Jog. 



He meant to say " saucy," bat the word wouldn't rise. He then 

 commenced re-loading his gun, and lecturing P-o-o-n-to, who still 

 continued his exertions, and inwardly anathematising Mr. Spougo. 

 He wished he had left him at home. Then recollecting Mrs. Jog, 

 he thought perhaps he was as well where he was. Still his 

 presence made him shoot worse than usual, and there was no occa- 

 sion for that. 



" Let me have a shot now," said Mr. Sponge. 



" Shot (puff) — shot (wheeze) ; well, take a shot if you choose," 

 replied he. 



Just as Mr. Sponge got the gun, up rose the eleventh bird, and 

 he knocked it over. 



" Thatfs the way to do it ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, as the bird 

 fell dead before Ponto. 



The excited dog, unused to such descents, snatched it up and ran 

 off. Just as he was getting out of shot, Mr. Sponge fired the other 

 barrel at him, causing him to drop the bird and run yelpiDg and 

 howling away. Jog was furious. He stamped, and gasped, and 

 fumed, and wheezed, and seemed like to burst with anger and indig- 

 nation. Though the dog ran away as hard as he could lick, Jog in- 

 sisted that he was mortally wounded, and would die. " He never 

 saw so (wheeze) a thing done. He wouldn't have taken twenty 

 pounds for the dog. No, he wouldn't have taken thirty. Forty 

 wouldn't have bought him. He was worth fifty of anybody's 

 money," and so he went on, fuming and advancing his value as he 

 spoke. 



Mr. Sponge stole away to where the dog had dropped the bird ; 

 and Mr. Jog, availing himself of his absence, retraced his steps 

 down the hill, and struck off home at a much faster pace than he 

 came. Arrived there, he found the dog in the kitchen, somewhat 

 sore from the visitation of the shot, but not sufficiently injured to 

 prevent his enjoying a most liberal plate of stick-jaw pudding, sup- 

 plied by a general contribution of the servants. Jog's wrath was 

 then turned in another direction, and he blew up for the waste and 

 extravagance of the act, hinting pretty freely that he knew who it 

 was that had set them against it. Altogether he was full of troubles, 

 vexations, and annoyances ; and after spending another most disa- 

 greeable evening with our friend Sponge, went to bed more deter- 

 mined than ever to get rid of him. 



