he might have made better use of his time, which may be shortly described as having been spent in hunting all the winter, and in talking about it all the summer.  With this popular sport he combined the diversion of fortune-hunting, though we are concerned to say that his success, up to the period of our introduction, had not been commensurate with his deserts.  Let us, however, hope that brighter days are about to dawn upon him.

Having now introduced our hero to our male and female friends, under his interesting pursuits of fox and fortune-hunter, it becomes us to say a few words as to his qualifications for carrying them on.

Mr. Sponge was a good-looking, rather vulgar-looking man.  At a distance—­say ten yards—­his height, figure, and carriage gave him somewhat of a commanding appearance, but this was rather marred by a jerky, twitchy, uneasy sort of air, that too plainly showed he was not the natural, or what the lower orders call the real gentleman.  Not that Sponge was shy.  Far from it.  He never hesitated about offering to a lady after a three days’ acquaintance, or in asking a gentleman to take him a horse in over-night, with whom he might chance to come in contact in the hunting-field.  And he did it all in such a cool, off-hand, matter-of-course sort of way, that people who would have stared with astonishment if anybody else had hinted at such a proposal, really seemed to come into the humour and spirit of the thing, and to look upon it rather as a matter of course than otherwise.  Then his dexterity in getting into people’s houses was only equalled by the difficulty of getting him out again, but this we must waive for the present in favour of his portraiture.

In height, Mr. Sponge was above the middle size—­five feet eleven or so—­with a well borne up, not badly shaped, closely cropped oval head, a tolerably good, but somewhat receding forehead, bright hazel eyes, Roman nose, with carefully tended whiskers, reaching the corners of a well-formed mouth, and thence descending in semicircles into a vast expanse of hair beneath the chin.

Having mentioned Mr. Sponge’s groomy gait and horsey propensities, it were almost needless to say that his dress was in the sporting style—­you saw what he was by his clothes.  Every article seemed to be made to defy the utmost rigour of the elements.  His hat (Lincoln and Bennett) was hard and heavy.  It sounded upon an entrance-hall table like a drum.  A little magical loop in the lining explained the cause of its weight.  Somehow, his hats were never either old or new—­not that he bought them second-hand, but when he got a new one he took its ‘long-coat’ off, as he called it, with a singeing lamp, and made it look as if it had undergone a few probationary showers.