ooking gentleman, with
marvellously smart leathers and boots--a great contrast to the large,
roomy, bargemanlike costume of the members of the Flat Hat Hunt.

'You're not hurt, I hope?' exclaimed Mr. Puffington, with well-feigned
anxiety, as he looked at Mr. Sponge's black-daubed clothes.

'Oh no!' replied Sponge. 'Oh no!--fell soft--fell soft. More dirt, less
hurt--more dirt, less hurt.'

'Why, you've been in a bog!' exclaimed Mr. Puffington, eyeing the
much-stained Hercules.

'Almost over head,' replied Sponge. 'Scamperdale saw me going, and hadn't
the grace to halloa.'

'Ah, that's like him,' replied Mr. Puffington, 'that's like him: there's
nothing pleases him so much as getting fellows into grief.'

'Not very polite to a stranger,' observed Mr. Sponge.

'No, it isn't,' replied Mr. Puffington, 'no, it isn't; far from it
indeed--far from it; but, low be it spoken,' added he, 'his lordship is
only a roughish sort of customer.'

'So he is,' replied Mr. Sponge, who thought it fine to abuse a nobleman.

'The fact is,' said Mr. Puffington, 'these Flat Hat chaps are all snobs.
They think there are no such fine fellows as themselves under the sun; and
if ever a stranger looks near them, they make a point of being as rude and
disagreeable to him as they possibly can. This is what they call keeping
the hunt select.' 'Indeed,' observed Mr. Sponge, recollecting how they had
complimented him, adding, 'they seem a queer set.'

'There's a fellow they call "Jack,"' observed Mr. Puffington, 'who acts as
a sort of bulldog to his lordship, and worries whoever his lordship sets
him upon. He got into a clay-hole a little farther back, and a precious
splashing he was making, along with the chaplain, old Blossomnose.'

'Ah, I saw him,' observed Mr. Sponge.

'You should come and see _my_ hounds,' observed Mr. Puffington.

'What are they?' asked Sponge.

'The Hanby,' replied Mr. Puffington.

'Oh! then you are Mr. Puffington,' observed Sponge, who had a sort of
general acquaintance with all the hounds and masters--indeed, with all the
meets of all the hounds in the kingdom--which he read in the weekly lists
in _Bell's Life_, just as he read _Mogg's Cab Fares_. 'Then you are Mr.
Puffington?' observed Sponge.

'The same,' replied the stranger.

'I'll have a look at you,' observed Sponge, adding, 'do you take in
horses?'

'Yours, of course,' replied Mr. Puffington, bowing; adding something about
great public characters, wh