400 mr. sponge's sporting tour. 



to be called ' slow.' Horrible thing to set up for a horseman, and 

 then have to ride to maintain one's reputation. Will be thankful to 

 give it up altogether. The bays will make capital carriage-horses, 

 and one can often pick up a second-hand carriage as good as new. 

 Shall save no end of money by not having to put ' B ' to my name in 

 the assessed tax-paper. One club's as good as a dozen — will give up 

 the Polyanthus and the Sunflower, and the Refuse and the Rag. 

 Ladies' dresses are cheap enough. Saw a beautiful gown t'other 

 day for a guinea. Will start Master Bergamotte. Does nothing for 

 his wages ; will scarce clean my boots. Can get a chap for half what 

 I give him, who'll do double the work. Will make Beans into 

 coachman. What a convenience to have one's wife's maid to sew on 

 one's buttons, and keep one's toes in one's stocking-feet ! Declare 

 I lose half my things at the washing for want of marking. Hanged 

 if I won't marry and be respectable — marriage is an honourable 

 state ! " And thereupon Tom grows a couple of inches taller in his 

 own conceit. 



Though Mr. Sponge's thoughts did not travel in quite such a 

 luxurious first-class train as the foregoing, he, Mr. Sponge, being 

 more of a two-shirts-and-a-dickey sort of man, yet still the future 

 ways and means weighed upon his mind, and calmed the transports 

 of his present joy. Lucy was an angel ! about that there was no 

 dispute. He would make her Mrs. Sponge at all events. Touring 

 about was very expensive. He could only counterbalance the ex- 

 travagance of inns by the rigid rule of giving nothing to servants at 

 private houses. He thought a nice airy lodging in the suburbs of 

 London would answer every purpose, while his accurate knowledge 

 of cab-fares would enable Lucy to continue her engagement at the 

 Royal Amphitheatre without incurring the serious overcharges the 

 inexperienced are exposed to. " Where one can dine, two can dine," 

 mused Mr. Sponge ; " and I make no doubt we'll manage matters 

 somehow." 



" Twopence for your thoughts ! " cried Lucy, trotting up, and 

 touching him gently on the back with her light silver-mounted riding- 

 whip. "Twopence for your thoughts!" repeated she, as Mr. Sponge 

 sauntered leisurely along, regardless of the bitter cold, followed by 

 such of the hounds as chose to accompany him. 



"Ah!" replied he, brightening up; "I was just thinking what 

 a deuced good run we'd had." 



"Indeed! " pouted the fair lady. 



" No, my darling; I was thinking what a very pretty girl you 

 are," rejoined he, sidling his horse up, and encircling her neat waist 

 with his arm. 



A sweet smile dimpled her plump cheeks, and chased the recol- 

 lection of the former answer away. 



It would not be pretty — indeed, we could not pretend to give 



