on. And yet we have seen this cracksman captain--for he, too,
was a captain at times--jostling and bellowing for odds among some of the
highest and noblest of the land!

Leather has descended to the cab-stand, of which he promises to be a
distinguished ornament. He haunts the Piccadilly stands, and has what he
calls ''stablish'd a raw' on Mr. Sponge to the extent of
three-and-six-pence a week, under threats of exposing the robbery Sponge
committed on our friend Mr. Waffles. That volatile genius, we are happy to
add, is quite well, and open to the attentions of any young lady who thinks
she can tame a wild young man. His financial affairs are not irretrievable.

And now for the hero and heroine of our tale. The Sponges--for our friend
married Lucy shortly after the steeple-chase--stayed at Nonsuch House until
the bailiffs walked in. Sir Harry then bolted to Boulogne, where he shortly
afterwards died, and Bugles very properly married my lady. They are now
living at Wandsworth; Mr. Bugles and Lady Scattercash, very 'much thought
of'--as Bugles says.

Although Mr. Sponge did not gain as much by winning the steeple-chase as he
would have done had Hercules allowed him to lose it, he still did pretty
well; and being at length starved out of Nonsuch House, he arrived at his
old quarters, the Bantam, in Bond Street, where he turned his attention
very seriously to providing for Lucy and the little Sponge, who had now
issued its prospectus. He thought over all the ways and means of making
money without capital, rejecting Australia and California as unfit for
sportsmen and men fond of their _Moggs_. Professional steeple-chasing Lucy
decried, declaring she would rather return to her flag-exercises at
Astley's, as soon as she was able, than have her dear Sponge risking his
neck that way. Our friend at length began to fear fortune-making was not so
easy as he thought--indeed, he was soon sure of it.

One day as he was staring vacantly out of the Bantam coffee-room window,
between the gilt labels, 'Hot Soups' and 'Dinners,' he was suddenly seized
with a fit of virtuous indignation at the disreputable frauds practised by
unprincipled adventurers on the unwary public, in the way of betting
offices, and resolved that he would be the St. George to slay this great
dragon of abuse. Accordingly, after due consultation with Lucy, he invested
his all in fitting up and decorating the splendid establishment in Jermyn
Street, St. James's, now kn