MR. sponge's sporting tour. 405 



as often as they could raise hounds, and when they had a good run 

 and killed, he saluted her ; and when they didn't kill, why — he just 

 did the same. He headed and tailed the stringing pack, drafted the 

 skirters and babblers (which he sent to Lord Scamperdale, with his 

 compliments), and presently had the uneven kennel in something 

 like shape. 



Nor was this the only way in which he made himself useful, for 

 Nonsuch House being now supported almost entirely by voluntary 

 contributions, — that is to say, by the gullibility of tradesmen, — his 

 street and shop knowledge was valuable in determining who to " do." 

 "With the Post-office Directory and Mr. Sponge at his elbow, Mr. 

 Bottleends, the butler — " delirius tremendous," as Bottleends called 

 it, having quite incapacitated Sir Harry- — wrote off for champagne 

 from this man, sherry from that, turtle from a third, turbot from a 

 fourth, tea from a fifth, truffles from a sixth, wax-lights from one, 

 sperm from another ; and down came the things with such alacrity, 

 such thanks for the past and hopes for the future, as we poor devils 

 of the untitled world are quite unacquainted with. Nay, not content 

 with giving him the goods, many of the poor demented creatures 

 actually paraded their folly at their doors in new deal packing-cases, 

 flourishingly directed " To Sir Harry Scattercash, Bart., Non- 

 such House, &c. By Express Train." In some cases they even 

 paid the carriage. 



And here, in the midst of love, luxury, and fox-hunting, let us 

 for a time leave our enterprising friend, Mr. Sponge, while we take 

 a look at a species of cruelty that some people call " sport." For 

 this purpose we will begin a fresh chapter. 



CHAPTER LXVII. 



how they got up the grand aristocratic steeple-chase. 



There is no saying what advantages railway communication may 



confer upon a country. But for the Granddiddle Junction, shire, 



never would have had a steeple-chase — an " Aristocratic," at least — 

 for it is observable that the more snobbish a thing is, the more cer- 

 tain they are to call it aristocratic. When it is too bad for anything, 

 they call it " Grand." Well, as we said before, but for the Grand- 

 diddle Junction, shire would never have had a " Grand Aristo- 

 cratic Steeple-Chase." A few friends or farmers might have got up 

 a quiet thing among themselves, but it would never have seen a 

 regular trade transaction, with its swell-mob, sham captains, and all 



