362 MR. sponge's sporttng tour. 



he took the roll in his arms and hoisted it on to Hercules, whom he 

 meant to make the led horse, observing aloud, as he adjusted it on 

 the saddle, and whacked it well with his hands to make it lie right, " I 

 ivish it was old Jog — ivoiddnH I sarve him out ! " He then turned 

 his horses round in their stalls, tucked his greasy jacket under 

 the flap of the saddle-hags, took his ash-stick from the crook, and led 

 them out of the capacious door. Jog looked at him with mingled 

 feelings of disgust and delight. Leather just gave his old hat flipe a 

 rap with his forefinger as he passed with the horses — a salute that Jog 

 did not condescend to return. 



Having eyed the receding horses with great satisfaction, Jog re- 

 entered the house by the kitchens, to have the pleasure of seeing Mr. 

 Sponge off. He found the portmanteau and carpet-bag standing in 

 the passage ; and just at the moment the sound of the phaeton wheels 

 fell on his ear, as Bartholomew drove round from the coach-house to 

 the door. Mr. Sponge was already in the parlour, making his adieus 

 to Mrs. Jog and the children, who were all assembled for the 

 purpose. 



" What, are you goin' ? " (puff) asked Jog, with an air of surprise. 



" Yes," replied Mr. Sponge ; adding, as he tendered his hand, 

 " the best friends must part, you know." 



" Well (puff), but you'd better have your (wheeze) horse round," 

 observed Jog, anxious to avoid any overture for a return. 



" Thankee," replied Mr. Sponge, making a parting bow ; " I'll get 

 him at the stable." 



" I'll go with you," said Jog, leading the way. 



Leather had saddled, and bridled, and turned him round in the 

 stall, with one of Mr. Jog's blanket-rugs on, which Mr. Sponge just 

 swept over his tail into the manger, and led the horse out. 



" Adieu ! " said he, offering his hand to his host. 



" G-ood-bye ! — good (puff) sport to you," said Jog, shaking it 

 heartily. 



Mr. Sponge then mounted his hack, and cocking out his toe, rode 

 off at a canter. 



At the same moment Bartholomew drove away from the front 

 door ; and Jog, having stood watching the phaeton over the rise of 

 Pennypound Hill, scraped his feet, re-entered his house, and rubbing 

 them heartily on the mat as lie closed the sash-door, observed alouc 

 to himself, with a jerk of his head — 



" Well, now, that's the most (puff) impittent feller I ever saw 

 my life ! Catch me (gasp) godpapa-hunting again." 



