Full text of novels by Surtees and other great sporting writersA gallery of sporting illustrationsHunting miscellaneaMr Jorrocks' EmporiumSearch this site
Chapter : ... 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70

CHAPTER 66

MR. SPONGE AT HOME

Sponge was most warmly congratulated by Sir Harry and all the assembled captains, who inwardly hoped his marriage would have the effect of ‘snuffing him out’, as they said, and they had a most glorious jollification on the strength of it. They drank Lucy’s and his health nine times over, with nine times nine each time. The consequence was, that the footmen and shutter were in earlier requisition than usual to carry them to their respective apartments. Sponge’s head throbbed a good deal the next morning; nor was the pulsation abated by the recollection of his matrimonial engagement, and his total inability to keep the angel who had ridden herself into his affections. However, like all untried men, he was strong in the confidence of his own ability, and the sight of his smiling charmer chased away all prudential considerations as quickly as they arose. He made no doubt there would something turn up.

Meanwhile, he was in good quarters, and Lady Scattercash having warmly espoused his cause, he assumed a considerable standing in the establishment. Old Beardey having ventured to complain of his interference in the kennel, my lady curtly told him he might ‘make himself scarce if he liked’; a step that Beardey was quite ready to take, having heard of a desirable public-house at Newington Butts, provided Sir Harry paid him his wages. This not being quite convenient, Sir Harry gave him an order on ‘Cabbage and Co.’ for three suits of clothes, and acquiesced in his taking a massive silver soup-tureen, on which, beneath the many quartered Scattercash arms, Mr. Watchorn placed an inscription, stating that it was presented to him by Sir Harry Scattercash, Baronet, and the noblemen and gentlemen of his hunt, in admiration of his talents as a huntsman and his character as a man.

Mr. Sponge then became still more at home. It was very soon ‘my hounds’, and ‘my horses’, and ‘my whips’; and he wrote to Jawleyford, and Puffington, and Guano, and Lumpleg, and Washball, and Spraggon, offering to make meets to suit their convenience, and even to mount them if required. His ‘Mogg’ was quite neglected in favour of Lucy; and it says much for the influence of female charms that, before they had been engaged a fortnight, he, who had been a perfect oracle in cab fares, would have been puzzled to tell the most ordinary fare on the most frequented route. He had forgotten all about them. Nevertheless, Lucy and he went out hunting 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., Nonsuch 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 : ... 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70

Mr Sponge's Sporting Tour
by
RS Surtees

Our Hero

Mr. Benjamin Buckram

Peter Leather

Laverick Wells

Mr. Waffles

Laverick Wells

Our Hero Arrives at Laverick Wells

Old Tom Towler

The Meet—The Find, and the Finish

The Feeler

The Deal, and the Disaster

An Old Friend

A New Scheme

Jawleyford Court

The Jawleyford Establishment

The Dinner

The Tea

The Evening's Reflections

The Wet Day

The F.H.H.

A Country Dinner-Party

The F.H.H. Again

The Great Run

Lord Scamperdale at Home

Mr. Spraggon's Embassy to Jawleyford Court

Mr. and Mrs. Springwheat

The Finest Run that ever was seen

The Faithful Groom

The Cross-Roads at Dallington Burn

Bolting the Badger

Mr. Puffington; or the Young Man about Town

The Man of P-R-O-R-PERTY

A Swell Huntsman

The Beaufort Justice

Lord Scamperdale at Jawleyford Court

Mr. Bragg's Kennel Management

Mr. Puffington's Domestic Arrangements

A Day with Puffington's Hounds

Writing a Run

A Literary Bloomer

A Dinner and a Deal

The Morning's Reflections

Another Sick Host

Wanted—A Rich God-Papa

The Discomfited Diplomatist

Puddingpote Bower, the Seat of Jogglebury Crowdey, ESQ.

A Family Breakfast on a Hunting Morning

Hunting the Hounds

Country Quarters

Sir Harry Scattercash's Hounds

Farmer Peastraw's D&icaron;né-MatinéE

A Moonlight Ride

Puddingpote Bower

Family Jars

The Trigger

Nonsuch House Again

The Debate

Facey Romford

The Adjourned Debate

Facey Romford at Home

Nonsuch House Again

A Family Breakfast

The Rising Generation

The Kennel and the Stud

The Hunt

Mr. Sponge at Home

How they got up the Grand Aristocratic Steeple-Chase

How the Grand Aristocratic Came Off

How Other Things Came Off

How Lord Scamperdale and co. Came Off