he old
horse just as if he was laying it into Miss Wrinkleton, so that by the time
he got home he had established a considerable lather on the old nag, which
his master resenting a row ensued, the sequel of which may readily be
imagined. After assisting Mrs. Clearstarch, the Kilburn laundress, in
getting in and taking out her washing, for a few weeks, chance at last
landed him at Mr. Benjamin Buckram's, from whence he is now about to be
removed to become our hero Mr. Sponge's Sancho Panza, in his fox-hunting,
fortune-hunting career, and disseminate in remote parts his doctrines of
the real honour and dignity of servitude. Now to the inspection.

Peter Leather, having a peep-hole as well as his master, on seeing Mr.
Sponge arrive, had given himself an extra rub over, and covered his dirty
shirt with a clean, well-tied, white kerchief, and a whole coloured scarlet
waistcoat, late the property of one of his noble employers, in hopes that
Sponge's visit might lead to something. Peter was about sick of the
suburbs, and thought, of course, that he couldn't be worse off than where
he was.

'Here's Mr. Sponge wants some osses,' observed Mr. Buckram, as Leather met
them in the middle of the little yard, and brought his right arm round with
a sort of military swing to his forehead; 'what 'ave we in?' continued
Buckram, with the air of a man with so many horses that he didn't know what
were in and what were out.

'Vy we 'ave Rumbleton in,' replied Leather, thoughtfully, stroking down his
hair as he spoke, 'and we 'ave Jack o'Lanthorn in, and we 'ave the Camel
in, and there's the little Hirish oss with the sprig tail--Jack-a-Dandy, as
I calls him, and the Flyer will be in to-night, he's just out a hairing, as
it were, with old Mr. Callipash.'

'Ah, Rumbleton won't do for Mr. Sponge,' observed Buckram, thoughtfully, at
the same time letting go a tremendous avalanche of silver down his trouser
pocket, 'Rumbleton won't do,' repeated he, 'nor Jack-a-Dandy nouther.'

'Why, I wouldn't commend neither on 'em,' replied Peter, taking his cue
from his master, 'only ven you axes me vot there's in, you knows vy I must
give you a _cor_-rect answer, in course.'

'In course,' nodded Buckram.

Leather and Buckram had a good understanding in the lying line, and had
fallen into a sort of tacit arrangement that if the former was staunch
about the horses he was at liberty to make the best terms he could for
himself. Whatever Buckram said, Leath