out his great thick lips, 'true. I'm a great
advocate for doing things handsomely. Many a row I have with my lord for
thanking fellows, and saying he'll _remember_ them instead of giving them
sixpence or a shilling; but really I should say, if you were to give him
forty or fifty pund--say a fifty--pund note, he'd be--'

The rest of the sentence was lost by the appearance of Mr. Sponge,
cantering up the avenue on the conspicuous piebald. Mr. Puffington and Mr.
Spraggon greeted him as he alighted at the door.

Sponge was quickly followed by Tom Washball; then came Charley Slapp and
Lumpleg, and Captain Guano came in a gig. Mutual bows and bobs and shakes
of the hand being exchanged, amid offers of 'anything before dinner' from
the host, the guests were at length shown to their respective apartments,
from which in due time they emerged, looking like so many bridegrooms.

First came the worthy master of the hounds himself, in his scarlet
dress-coat, lined with white satin; Tom Washball, and Charley Slapp also
sported Puff's uniform; while Captain Guano, who was proud of his leg,
sported the uniform of the Muffington Hunt--a pea-green coat lined with
yellow, and a yellow collar, white shorts with gold garters, and black silk
stockings.

Spraggon had been obliged to put up with Lord Scamperdale's second best
coat, his lordship having taken the best one himself; but it was passable
enough by candle light, and the seediness of the blue cloth was relieved by
a velvet collar and a new set of the Flat Hat Hunt buttons. Mr. Sponge wore
a plain scarlet with a crimson velvet collar, and a bright fox on the
frosted ground of a gilt button, with tights as before; and when Mr. Crane
arrived he was found to be attired in a dress composed partly of Mr.
Puffington's and partly of the Muggeridge Hunt uniform--the red coat of the
former surmounting the white shorts and black stockings of the other.
Altogether, however, they were uncommonly smart, and it is to be hoped that
they appreciated each other.

The dinner was sumptuous. Puff, of course, was in the chair; and Captain
Guano coming last into the room, and being very fond of office, was vice.
When men run to the 'noble science' of gastronomy, they generally outstrip
the ladies in the art of dinner-giving, for they admit of no makeweight, or
merely ornamental dishes, but concentrate the cook's energies on sterling
and approved dishes. Everything men set on is meant to be eaten. Above