I now quote my author: "The fair lady leant towards him, and as he adjusted it becomingly in her hat, looking at her bewitching eyes, her lovely face, and feeling the sweet fragrance of her breath, a something shot through Mr. Sponge's pull-devil pull-baker coat, his corduroy waistcoat, his Eureka shirt, angola vest, and penetrated to the very cockles of his heart. He gave her such a series of smacking kisses as startled her horse and astonished a poacher who happened to be hid in the adjoining hedge." On the return of the happy pair Lucy rushes to her sister with the good news. Lady Scattercash was delighted, because "Mr. Sponge was such a nice man, _and so rich_! She was sure he was rich--couldn't hunt if he wasn't. Would advise Lucy to have a good settlement, in case he broke his neck." On further inquiry, however, her ladyship had good reason to suspect that a red coat and two or three hunters were not satisfactory proofs of wealth; and in reply to one who knew, she retorted, "Well, never mind, if he has nothing, she has nothing, and nothing can be nicer." With the conviction that nothing could be nicer, "Lady Scattercash warmly espoused Mr. Sponge's cause," the consequence being his instalment in splendid quarters at Nonsuch House, where he made himself thoroughly at home. "It was very soon 'my hounds,' 'my horses,' and 'my whips,' etc., being untroubled by his total inability to keep the angel who had ridden herself into his affections, for he made no doubt that something would turn up." If it were not for the introduction of a delightful drawing by Leech, I should take no note of a "Steeplechase," in which Mr. Sponge comes before us for the last time. This function is not a favourite with Mr. Surtees, nor is it looked upon without much anxiety by Miss Lucy. "She has made Mr. Sponge a white silk jacket to ride in, and a cap of the same colour. Altogether, he is a great swell, and very like a bridegroom," says the author. [Illustration]