enterprise, and encouraging our unrivalled breed of horses; both of which he looked opon as national objects, well worthy the attention of enlightened men like himself.

Jawleyford was a great patron of the chase; and his keeper, Watson, always had a bag-fox ready to turn down when my lord’s hounds met there. Jawleyford’s covers were never known to be drawn blank. Though they had been shot in the day before, they always held a fox the next -- if a fox was wanted.

Sponge being quite at home on the subject of horses and hunting, lauded all his papa-in-law’s observations up to the skies; occasionally considering whether it would be advisable to sell him a horse, and thinking, if he did, whether he should let him have one of the three he had down, or should get old Buckram to buy some quiet screw that would stand a little work and yield him (Sponge) a little profit, and yet not demolish the great patron of English sports. The more Jawleyford drank, the more energetic he became, and the greater pleasure he anticipated from the meet of the morrow. He docked the lord, and spoke of ‘Scamperdale’ as an excellent fellow -- a real, good, hearty, honest Englishman -- a man that ‘the more you knew the more you liked;’ all of which was very encouraging to Sponge. Spigot at length appeared to read the tea and coffee riot-act, when Jawleyford, determined not to be done out of another bottle, pointing to the nearly-emptied decanter, said to Robert Foozle, ‘I suppose you’ll not take any more wine?’ To which Robert replied, ‘No, I’ll not take any more wine.’ Whereupon, pushing out his chair and throwing away his napkin, Jawleyford arose and led the way to the drawing-room, followed by Sponge and this entertaining young gentleman.

A round game followed tea; which, in its turn, was succeeded by a massive silver tray, chiefly decorated with cold water and tumblers; and as the various independent clocks in the drawing-room began chiming and striking eleven, Mr Jawleyford thought he would try to get rid of Foozle by asking him if he hadn’t better stay all night.

‘Yes, I think I’d better stay all night,’ replied Foozle.

‘But won’t they be expecting you at home, Robert?’ asked Jawleyford, not feeling disposed to be caught in his own trap.

‘Yes, they’ll be expecting me at home,’ replied Foozle.

‘Then, perhaps, you had better not alarm them by staying,’ suggested Jawleyford.

‘No, perhaps I’d better not alarm them by staying,’ repeated Foozle. Whereupon they all rose, and wishing him a very good-night, Jawleyford handed him over to Spigot, who transferred him to one footman, who passed him to another, to button into his leather-headed shandridan.

After talking Robert over, and expatiating on the misfortune it would be to have such a boy, Jawleyford rang the bell for the banquet of water to be taken away; and ordering breakfast half an hour earlier than usual, our friends went to bed.