DEAR SPONGE -- I’m afraid Bullfrog will have to make himself happy without his horse, for I hav’n’t the slightest idea where he is. I sold him to a cockneyfied, countryfied sort of a man, who said he had a small ‘hindependence of his own’ -- somewhere, I believe, about London. He didn’t give much for him, as you may suppose, when I tell you we paid for him chiefly in silver. If I were you, I wouldn’t trouble myself about him.

Yours very truly,

W. WAFFLES

To H. Sponge, Esq.

Our hero addressed Mr Waffles again, in the course of a few days, as follows:

DEAR WAFFLES -- I am sorry to say Bullfrog won’t be put off without the horse. He says I insisted on his taking him back, and now he insists on having him. I have had his lawyer, Mr Chousam, of the great firm of Chousam, Doem, and Co., of Throgmorton Street, at me, who says his lordship will play old gooseberry with us if we don’t return him by Saturday. Pray put on all stream, and look him up.

Yours in haste,

H. SPONGE

To W. Waffles, Esq.

Mr Waffles did put on all steam, and so successfully that he ran the horse to ground at our friend Mr Buckram’s. Though the horse was in the box adjoining the house, Mr Buckram declared he had sold him to go to ‘Hireland;’ to what county he really couldn’t say, nor to what hunt; all he knew was, the gentleman said he was a ‘captin,’ and lived in a castle.

Mr Waffles communicated the intelligence to Sponge, requesting him to do the best he could for him, who reported what his ‘best’ was in the following letter:

DEAR WAFFLES -- My lawyer has seen Chousam, and deuced stiff he says he was. It seems Bullfrog is indignant at being accused of a ‘do;’ and having got me in the wrong box, by not being able to return the horse as claimed, he meant to work me. At first Chousam would hear of nothing but ‘l--a--w.’ Bullfrog’s wounded honour could only be salved that way. Gradually, however, we diverged from l--a--w to £--s.-- d.; and the upshot of it is, that he will advise his lordship to take £250 and be done with it. It’s a bore; but I did it for the best, and shall be glad now to know your wishes on the subject. Meanwhile, I remain,

Yours, very truly,

H. SPONGE

To W. Waffles, Esq.

Formerly a remittance by post used to speak for itself. The tender-fingered clerks could detect an enclosure, however skilfully folded. Few people grudged double postage in those days. Now one letter is so much like another, that nothing short of opening them makes one any wiser. Mr Sponge received Mr Waffles’ answer from the hands of the waiter with the sort of feeling that it was only the continuation of their correspondence. Judge, then, of his delight, when a nice, clean, crisp promissory note, on a five-shilling stamp, fell quivering to the floor. A few lines, expressive of Mr Waffles’ gratitude for the trouble our hero had taken, and hopes that it would not be inconvenient to take a note at two months, accompanied it. At first Mr Sponge was overjoyed. It would set him up for the season. He thought how he’d spend it. He had half a mind to go to Melton. There were no heiresses there, or else he would. Leamington would do, only it was rather expensive. Then he thought he might as well have done Waffles a little more.