‘I really think (puff) this will make a four-in-hander (wheeze),’ exclaimed he, as he advanced towards the carriage, holding a holly so as to show its full length -- ‘not that I (puff, wheeze, gasp) do much in that (puff, wheeze) line, but really it is such a (puff, wheeze) beauty that I couldn’t (puff, wheeze, gasp) resist it.’

‘Well, but I thought we were going to hunt,’ observed Mr Sponge, drily.

‘Hunt (puff)! so we are (wheeze); but there are no hounds (gasp). My good (puff) man,’ continued he, addressing a smock-frocked countryman, who now came up, ‘have you seen anything of the (wheeze) hounds?’

‘E--e--s,’ replied the man. ‘They be gone to Brookdale Plantin’.’

‘Then we’d better (puff) after them,’ said Jog, running the stick through the apron-straps, and bundling into the phaeton with the long one in his hand.

Away they rattled and jingled as before.

‘How far is it?’ asked Mr Sponge, vexed at the detention.

‘Oh (puff) close by (wheeze),’ replied Jog.

‘Close by,’ as most of our sporting readers well know to their cost, is generally anything but close by. Nor was Jog’s close by, close by on this occasion.

‘There,’ said Jog, after they had got crawled up Trampington Hill; ‘that’s it (puff) to the right, by the (wheeze) water there,’ pointing to a plantation about a mile off, with a pond shining at the end.

Just as Mr Sponge caught view of the water, the twang of a horn was heard, and the hounds came pouring, full cry, out of cover, followed by about twenty variously-clad horsemen, and our friend had the satisfaction of seeing them run clean out of sight, over as fine a country as ever was crossed. Worst of all, he thought he saw Leather pounding away on the chestnut.


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