Collard and Collard; music-stool
and Canterbury; chimney and pier-glasses; mirror; ormolu time-piece;
alabaster and wax figures and shades; china; Brussels carpets and rugs;
fenders and fire-irons; curtains and cornices; Venetian blinds; mahogany
four-post, French, and camp bedsteads; feather beds; hair mattresses;
mahogany chests of drawers; dressing-glasses; wash and dressing-tables;
patent shower-bath; bed and table-linen; dinner and tea-ware;
warming-pans, &c., would be exposed to immediate and unreserved sale.

How gratefully Sponge's inquiry if he knew Mr. Romford fell on his ear, as
they sat moodily together after dinner over some very low-priced port.

'Oh yes (puff)--oh yes (wheeze)--oh yes (gasp)! Know Charley
Romford--Facey, as they call him. He's (puff, wheeze, gasp) heir to old Mr.
Gilroy, of Queercove Hill.'

'Just so,' rejoined Sponge, 'just so; that's the man--stout, square-built
fellow, with backward-growing whiskers. I'm going to stay with him to shoot
at old Gil's. Where does Charley live?'

'Live!' exclaimed Jog, almost choked with delight at the information;
'live! live!' repeated he, for the third time; 'lives at (puff, wheeze,
gasp, cough) Washingforde--yes, at Washingforde; 'bout ten miles from
(puff, wheeze) here. When d'ye go?'

'To-morrow,' replied Sponge, with an air of offended dignity.

Jog was so rejoiced that he could hardly sit on his chair.

Mrs. Jog, when she heard it, felt that Gustavus James's chance of
independence was gone; for well she knew that Jog would never let Sponge
come back to the Bower.

We need scarcely say that Jog was up betimes in the morning, most anxious
to forward Mr. Sponge's departure. He offered to allow Bartholomew to
convey him and his 'traps' in the phaeton--an offer that Mr. Sponge availed
himself of as far as his 'traps' were concerned, though he preferred
cantering over on his piebald to trailing along in Jog's jingling chay. So
matters were arranged, and Mr. Sponge forthwith proceeded to put his brown
boots, his substantial cords, his superfine tights, his cuttey scarlet, his
dress blue saxony, his clean linen, his heavy spurs, and though last, not
least in importance, his now backless _Mogg_, into his solid leather
portmanteau, sweeping the surplus of his wardrobe into a capacious
carpet-bag. While the guest was thus busy upstairs, the host wandered about
restlessly, now stirring up this person, now hurrying that, in the full
enjoyment of the muc