made from flounders (des limandes), of which the river is full. Besides these are soles and turbot, and many more kinds, which to our astonishment are served up with sauces which with pleasure we would eat on the Boulevard des Italiens. This mystery is afterwards explained by learning that it is to a French cook these noble dishes are owing. To see that we can eat appears a great joy to Brassbridge, who himself sets a good example. At a fish dinner,' he exclaims, 'everybody should drink like a fish!' and quickly is poured out for us du Sherry et du vin de Rhin. Whenever I drink, cunningly I turn my eye and toast the charming miss, whom I still observe to smile.

"At length these dishes are cleared, but not half the fish are yet eaten. Upon the table are placed large plates of brown bread-and-butter (tartines de pain bis), and others holding lemons and cayennes-pepper (le poivre rose de Cayenne). We wonder at these preparations, but our wonder increases when all the space between is filled with some of the largest dishes ever seen, which are piled up with fishes so small that not one of them is equal in size to my little finger. We doubt our eyes, thinking what this may mean. We imagine them to be sardines, but Brassbridge, in his jovial way, soon undeceives us. Now then for the white-bait!' he cries, and with an enormous spoon he shovels a quantity innumerable into my plate. Petit poisson of the Thames,' he says, 'mangez, musseer, with brown bread-and-butter.' The waiters fly round with the dishes. We begin to eat, and never then shall we stop. The white-baits, hot and crisp from the fire, crackle and melt in our mouths, and are of a delicious flavour. Brassbridge calls for Vin du Champagne. It comes foaming into the broad-headed glasses; down go the white-baits, rendered piquantwith lemon-juice; down go the brown tartines; and at every instant down goes the champagne. Glass after glass disappears, but while the white-baits take one direction the wine takes another; it mounts to our heads our gaiety of Paris, absent for many days, comes back to us, and loudly we laugh and talk, attracting to us the regard of many. More boldly now I look at the beautiful miss, nor yet has she forgotten to smile. Sweet gal,' to myself I say, I shall marry you quickly.'

"At last impossible is it for us to eat more white-baits, and vainly the waiters present them. Where they come from, so many of them, is to us a miracle; where they go to, Malingre and Peloton can best explain, for their unbuttoned waistcoats proclaim them bursting. It is well that we pause, or perhaps never should we eat again; and yet such is the kindness of Nature, that in offering to man variety she doubles his powers. Science and experience have disclosed the fact, that long to pursue the same thing is to create disgust. For this reason a Frenchman runs from his wife, and an Englishman puts a rope round her neck and takes her to Smitfield Market to sell her. Owing to the same cause we regain our lost appetites at dinner. Vive la variété !

"The next entrée is of meats and fowls; des côtelettes, des patés d'huitres et d'homard, boiled hens, bacons, and again lamb's-ribs, with sauce aigre-doux. There is but one rule for a Frenchman to follow in dining in this country-to take every meat he is offered, and sternly to reject every native sauce. It is on that rock the reputation of English cookery is split open. Again we eat till hardly can we move our machoires, and Pigeonneau and Tiby are grey (gris) with drinking. This I observe to Brassbridge, who, laughing loudly, replies, 'Done brown, hey?' and pledges me in more champagne, over which I wink at the beautiful

miss. Sweet dishes and pastry follow; one of the last-a tart made of rhubarb-being always taken medicinally in England. Some people, I am told, prefer dinner pills,' which they carry in their pockets. Have we done yet? Not so; still more is there to come-fromage de Chester, vast and heavy as a rock of red granite; and, strangely ending so great a repast, is a salad. Brassbridge invites us to drink ale with this mountain cheese. There is a new kind-Stogumber' (quel drôle de nom!) which he loudly praises; but to drink any now we are not capable. Finally the table-clothes are removed, the dessert and wine are placed, the Bordeaux is sent round; to which all do honour but Brassbridge alone, who says to me when I ask him if he shall take some, 'No, musseer; I stick to port.'

6

"We now carry some toasts. Brassbridge gives the first to 'The Queen, God bless her;' then, To the happy union between France and England' (which, as I look towards the door, where the beautiful miss is now disappearing on the arm of an aged 'gent,' I know how to interpret); and then to The party assembled on this occasion' (when Brassbridge makes a speech, and says on this occasion' many times over). In return, we drink the health of Brassbridge, and after that we prepare to depart.

6

"To stand steady after such fast drinking is not easily accomplished, but we can very well see some of us even see double. On the terrace in front of the stations-house many ladies and gentlemen are walking; amongst them is the handsome miss. In passing I salute, by raising my hat, and the rest do the same. The handsome miss and her рара, with others of their company, enter the stations-house: we also shall return to London. Again does Brassbridge take the tickets, and my friends enter with him the carriages. But I desire to have another look at the lovely miss, and I pass by the carriage into which she has gone. She is seated by the window. A bold and happy thought inspires me. Sudden I recollect the portrait which was painted for me in Tunnel; I take it from my pocket, and while I gaze upon it for a moment the conductor of the train calls out to me to take my seat. With the quickness of a lightning flash I throw the picture on the lap of the lovely miss; I kiss my hand, and dart away. I am called to by Brassbridge as I go by, but observing a carriage-door open at the end of the train, I jump in, there to feed upon myself with pleasant recollections. In another instant the train is off, and soon I think shall I be in London once more, to see and follow to her home that beautiful creature. Presently the carriage stops-much sooner than I had expected. The door is opened, and with a light step I jump out; but what do I see? I am alone in a desolate place, with high walls round me, above which are the masts of ships, and lofty buildings full of blank windows; and far in front, along the line of rail, I perceive the train from which the carriage in which I sat has been cast off. I dash my hands into my face and utter loud cries, impossible for me to be heard but by a policemans, who comes to ask for my ticket. None have I to give him; it is Brassbridge who has them. He says I must go to the stationshouse. 'Where am I?' I ask; 'Is this London ?" A broad grin is on his face as he replies, with the calmness of the imperturbable English, 'No; this is Poplar!"

"In madness I shake my fist at the train, and gloomily follow the policemans."

SOAPEY SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A COUNTRY DINNER-PARTY.

"WELL, what sport ?" asked Jawleyford, as he encountered our exceedingly dirty friend crossing the entrance hall to his bed-room on his return from his day, or rather his non-day, with the "Flat Hat Hunt."

“Why, not much-that's to say, nothing particular—I mean, I've not had any," blurted Soapey.

"But you've had a run?" observed Jawleyford, pointing to Soapey's boots and breeches, stained with the variation of each soil.

"Ah, I got most of that going to cover," replied Soapey; "country's awfully deep, roads abominably dirty:" adding, "I wish I'd taken your advice, and stayed at home."

"I wish you had," replied Jawleyford, "you'd have had a most excellent rabbit-pie for luncheon. However, get changed, and we will hear all about it after." So saying, Jawleyford waved an adieu, and Soapey stumped away in his dirty water-logged boots.

"I'm afraid you are very wet, Mr. Soapey Sponge," observed Amelia in the sweetest tone, with the most loving smile possible, as our friend, with three steps at a time, bounded up-stairs, and nearly butted her on the landing, as she was on the point of coming down.

"I am that," exclaimed Soapey, delighted at the greeting; "I am that," repeated he, slapping his much stained cords; "dirty, too," added he, looking down at his nether man.

"Hadn't you better get changed as quick as possible?" asked Amelia, still keeping her position before him.

"Oh! all in good time," replied Soapey, "all in good time. The sight of you warms me more than a fire would do;" adding, "I declare you look quite bewitching, after all the roughings and tumblings about out of doors."

"Oh! you've not had a fall, have you?" exclaimed Amelia, looking the picture of despair; "you've not had a fall, have you? Do let me send for a doctor, and be bled.”

Just then a door along the passage to the left opened; and Amelia, knowing pretty well who it was, smiled and tripped away, leaving Soapey to be bled or not as he thought proper.

Our hero then made for his bed-room, where, having sucked off his adhesive boots, and divested himself of the rest of his hunting attire, he wrapped himself up in his grey flannel dressing-gown, and commenced parboiling his legs and feet, amid agreeable anticipations arising out of the recent interview, and occasional references to his old friend "Mogg,' whenever he did not see his way on the matrimonial road as clearly as he could wish. "She'll have me, that's certain," observed he.

"Curse the water! how hot it is!" exclaimed he, catching his foot up out of the bath, into which he had incautiously plunged it without ascertaining the temperature of the water. He then sluiced it with cold,

and next had to add a little more hot; at last he got it to his mind, and lighting a cigar, prepared for uninterrupted enjoyment.

"Gad!" said he, "she's by no means a bad-looking girl" (whiff). "Devilish good-looking girl" (puff); "good head and neck, and carries it well too" (puff)—" capital eye" (whiff), "bright and clear" (puff); "no cataracts there. D-n her, she's all good together" (whiff, puff, whiff.) “Nice size too,” continued he, "and well set up" (whiff, puff, whiff); "straight as a dairy-maid" (puff); "plenty of substance-grand thing substance" (puff). "D-n me, I hate a weedy woman-fifteen two and a half—that's to say, five feet four, 's plenty of height for a woman" (puff). "Height of a woman has nothing to do with her size" (whiff). "Wish she hadn't run off" (puff); "would like to have had a little more conversation with her" (whiff, puff ). "Women never look so well as when one comes in wet and dirty from hunting" (puff). He then sank silently back in the easy chair, and whiffed and puffed all sorts of fantastic clouds and columns and corkscrews at his leisure. The cigar being finished, and the water in the foot-bath beginning to cool, he emptied the remainder of the hot into it, and lighting a fresh cigar, began speculating on how the match was to be accomplished.

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The lady was safe, that was clear; he had nothing to do but "pop." That he would do in the evening, or in the morning, or any time—a man living in the house with a girl need never be in want of an opportunity. That preliminary over, and the usual answer Ask papa" obtained, then came the question, how was the old boy to be managed? -for men with marriageable daughters are to all intents and purposes "old boys," be their ages what they may. Question proposed-"How was the old boy to be managed?" Was Soapey to take him as he had taken Mr. Depecarde-ask what he would come down with; or angle him, as he had done Major Spencer-play one piece of confidence off against another; or take the high horse, as he had often done, and decline being questioned himself.

Soapey became lost in reflection. He sat with his eyes fixed on the Jawleyford portrait above the mantelpiece, wondering whether he was the amiable, liberal, hearty, disinterested sort of man he appeared to be, indifferent about money, and only wanting unexceptionable young men like himself for his daughters; or if he was a worldly-minded man, like old Mr. Moneybags of Worthing, who, after giving him every possible encouragement, sent him to the right about as he would a servant. So Soapey smoked and thought, and thought and smoked, till, the water in the foot-bath again getting cold, and the shades of night drawing on, leaving the little fire the labour of illuminating the whole of the great gloomy apartment, he at last started up like a man determined to awake himself, and poking a match into the fire, lighted the candles on the toilette-table, and proceeded to adorn himself. Having again got himself into the killing tights and buckled pumps, with a fine flower-fronted shirt, ere he embarked on the delicacies and difficulties of the starcher he stirred the little pittance of a fire, and again folding himself in his dressing-gown, endeavoured to prepare his mind for the calm consideration of all the minute bearings of the question by a little light reading. He first tried "Ruff's Guide to the Turf," Leger horses, Derby horses, Oaks' fillies; but that did not suit him, and he soon changed for his old friend "Mogg." Then in idea he transferred himself to London, now

fancying himself standing at the end of Burlington Arcade, hailing a Fulham or Turnham Green 'bus; now wrangling with a conductor for charging him sixpence when there was a pennant flapping at his nose with the words "ALL THE WAY 3D." upon it; now folding the wooden doors of a Hansom cab in Oxford-street, calculating the extreme distance he could go for an eightpenny fare; until at last he fell into a downright vacant sort of reading, without rhyme or reason, just as one sometimes takes a read of a directory or a dictionary-"Conduit-street, Georgestreet, to or from the Adelphi-terrace, Astley's Amphitheatre, Bakerstreet, King-street, Bryanstone-square any part, Covent Garden Theatre, Foundling Hospital, Hatton Garden, and so on, till the b-a-n-g, b-a-n-g, b-a-n-g of the gong aroused him to a recollection of his duties. He then up and at his neckcloth.

"Ah well," said Soapey, reverting to his lady love, as he eyed himself intently in the glass while performing the critical operation, "I'll just sound the old gentleman after dinner-one can do that sort of thing better over one's wine, perhaps, than at any other time: looks less formal too," added he, giving the cravat a knowing crease at the side; and if it doesn't seem to take, one can just pass it off as if it was done for somebody else-some young gentleman at Laverick Wells, for instance."

So saying, he on with his white waistcoat, and crowned the whole with a blue coat and metal buttons. Returning his "Mogg" to his dressing-gown pocket, he blew out the candles, and groped his way downstairs in the dark.

In passing the dining-room he looked in (to see if there were any champagne-glasses set, we believe), when he saw that he should not have an opportunity of sounding his intended papa-in-law after dinner, for he found the table laid for twelve, and a great display of plate, linen, and china, greater than any they had yet had.

Soapey then swaggered on to the drawing-room, which was in a blaze of light. The lively, pretty Emily had stolen a march on her sister, and had just entered, attired in a fine new pale yellow silk dress with a pointlace berthe and other hangings.

High words had ensued between the sisters as to the meanness of Amelia in trying to take her beau from her, especially after the airs Amelia had given herself respecting Soapey; and a minute observer might have seen the slight tinge of red on Emily's eyelids, denoting the usual issue of such scenes. The result was, that each determined to do the best she could for herself; and acting upon that principle, Emily proceeded to dress with all expedition, calculating that as Mr. Sponge had come in wet, he would very likely dress at once and appear in the drawing-room in good time. Nor was she out in her reckoning, for she had hardly enjoyed an approving glance in the mirror ere our hero came swaggering in, twitching his arms as if he hadn't got his wristbands adjusted, and working his legs as if they didn't belong to him.

"Ah, my dear Miss Emley !" exclaimed he, advancing gaily towards her with extended hand, which she took with all the pleasure in the world; adding, "And how have you been?"

"Oh, pretty well, thank you," replied she, looking as though she would have said, "As well as I can be without you."

Soapey, though a consummate judge of a horse, and all the minutia