mr. sponge's spouting tour. 367 



and said that was where Sponge would have to curl himself up, our 

 friend shook his head, and declared he could not. 



" Oh, fiddle ! " replied Facey, Jack Weatherley slept in it for 

 months, and he's half a hand higher than you — sixteen hands, if he's 

 an inch." And Sponge jerked his head, and bit his lips, thinking he 

 was " done " for once. 



" W-h-o-y, ar thought you'd been a fox-hunter," observed Facey, 

 seeing his guest's disconcerted look. 



" Well, but bein' a fox-hunter won't enable one to sleep in a 

 band-box, or to shut one's-self up like a telescope," retorted the in- 

 dignant Sponge. 



" Ord hang it, man ! you're so nasty partickler," rejoined Facey; 

 "your're so nasty partickler. You'll never do to go out duck-shoot- 

 in' i' your shirt. Dash it, man ! Oncle Grilroy would disinherit me 

 if ar was such a chap. " However, look sharp," continued he," if 

 you are goin' to clean yourself; for dinner'll be ready in no time, 

 indeed, I hear Mrs. End dishin' it up." So saying, Facey rolled out 

 of the room, and Sponge presently heard him pulling off his clogs of 

 shoes in the adjoining one. Dinner spoke for itself, for the house 

 reeked with the smell of fried onions and roast pork. 



Now, Sponge didn't like pork ; and there was nothing but pork, 

 or pig in one shape or another. Spare-ribs, liver and bacon, sausages, 

 black puddings, &c, — all very good in their way, but which came 

 with a bad grace after the comforts of Jog's, the elegance of 

 Puffington's, and the early splendour of Jawleyford's. Our hero was 

 a good deal put out, and felt as if he was imposed upon. What 

 business had a man like this to ask him to stay with him — a man 

 who dined by daylight, and ladled his meat with a great two-pronged 

 fork? 



Facey, though he saw Mr. Sponge wasn't pleased, praised and 

 pressed everything in succession down to a very strong cheese ; 

 and as the slip-shod girl whisked away crumbs and all in the 

 coarse table-cloth, he exclaimed with a most open-hearted air, 

 " Well, now, what shall we have to drink," adding, " You smoke, 

 of course — shall it be gin, rum or Hollands — Hollands, rum, or 

 gin ? " \ 



Sponge was half inclined to propose wine, but recollecting -what 

 sloe-juice sort of stuff it was sure to be, and that Facey, in all pro- 

 bability, would make him finish it, he just replied, " Oh, I don't 

 care ; 'spose we say gin ? " 



" Gin be it," said Facey, rising from his seat, and making for a 

 little closet in the wall, he produced a bottle labelled " Fine London 

 Spirit; " and hallooing to the girl to get a few " Captins' " out of 

 the box under his bed, he scattered a lot of glasses about the 

 table, and placed a green dessert-dish for the biscuits against they 

 came. 



