asional
stroll about the grounds, the non-sporting inmates of Nonsuch House
beguiled the time, much to Mr. Sponge's disgust, whose soul was on fire and
eager for the fray. The reader's perhaps being the same, we will skip
Christmas and pass on to New Year's Day.

CHAPTER LXII

A FAMILY BREAKFAST

'Twere almost superfluous to say that NEW YEAR'S DAY is always a
great holiday. It is a day on which custom commands people to be happy and
idle, whether they have the means of being happy and idle or not. It is a
day for which happiness and idleness are 'booked,' and parties are planned
and arranged long beforehand. Some go to the town, some to the country;
some take rail; some take steam; some take greyhounds; some take gigs;
while others take guns and pop at all the little dicky-birds that come in
their way. The rural population generally incline to a hunt. They are not
very particular as to style, so long as there are a certain number of
hounds, and some men in scarlet, to blow their horns, halloo, and crack
their whips.

The population, especially the rising population about Nonsuch House, all
inclined that way. A New Year's Day's hunt with Sir Harry had long been
looked forward to by the little Raws, and the little Spooneys, and the big
and little Cheeks, and we don't know how many others. Nay, it had been
talked of by the elder boys at their respective schools--we beg pardon,
academies--Dr. Switchington's, Mr. Latherington's, Mrs. Skelper's, and a
liberal allowance of boasting indulged in, as to how they would show each
other the way over the hedges and ditches. The thing had long been talked
of. Old Johnny Raw had asked Sir Harry to arrange the day so long ago that
Sir Harry had forgotten all about it. Sir Harry was one of those
good-natured souls who can't say 'No' to any one. If anybody had asked if
they might set fire to his house, he would have said:

'Oh (hiccup) certainly, my dear (hiccup) fellow, if it will give you any
(hiccup) pleasure.'

Now, for the hiccup day.

It is generally a frost on New Year's Day. However wet and sloppy the
weather may be up to the end of the year, it generally turns over a new
leaf on that day. New Year's Day is generally a bright, bitter, sunshiny
day, with starry ice, and a most decided anti-hunting feeling about
it--light, airy, ringy, anything but cheery for hunting.

Thus it was in Sir Harry Scattercash's county. Having smoked and drunk the
old year out, the cap