‘We’ve had a rare run,’ said he, addressing himself to Sir Harry.

’Have you (hiccup)?  I’m glad of it (hiccup).  Pray have something to (hiccup) after it; you must be (hiccup).’

‘Let me help you to some of this cold round of beef?’ exclaimed Captain Bouncey, brandishing the great broad-bladed carving knife.

’Have a slice of ’ot ‘am,’ suggested Captain Quod.

‘The finest run I ever rode!’ observed Mr. Sponge, still endeavouring to get a hearing.

‘Dare say it would,’ replied Sir Harry;’ those (hiccup) hounds of mine are uncommon (hiccup).’  He didn’t know what they were, and the hiccup came very opportunely.

‘The pace was terrific!’ exclaimed Sponge.

‘Dare say it would,’ replied Sir Harry; ’and that’s what makes me (hiccup) you’re so (hiccup).  Pea, here, has some rare old October—­(hiccup) bushels to the (hiccup) hogshead.’  ‘It’s capital!’ exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck, frothing himself a tumblerful out of the tall brown jug.

‘So is this,’ rejoined Captain Quod, pouring himself out a liberal allowance of gin.

‘That horse of mine carried me MAG_nificently_!’ observed Mr. Sponge, with a commanding emphasis on the MAG.

‘Dare say he would,’ replied Sir Harry; ’he looked like a (hiccup)er—­a white ‘un, wasn’t he?’

‘No; a brown,’ replied Mr. Sponge, disgusted at the mistake.

‘Ah, well; but there was somebody on a white,’ replied Sir Harry.  ’Oh—­ah—­yes—­it was old Bugles on my lady’s horse.  By the (hiccup) way (hiccup), gentlemen, what’s got Mr. Orlando (hiccup) Bugles?’ asked Sir Harry, staring wildly round.

’Oh! old Bugles! old Pad-the-Hoof! old Mr. Funker! the horse frightened him so, that he went home crying,’ replied Bob Spangles.

‘Hope he didn’t lose him?’ asked Sir Harry.

‘Oh no,’ replied Bob; ’he gave a lad a shilling to lead him, and they trudged away very quietly together.’

‘The old (hiccup)!’ exclaimed Sir Harry; ’he told me he was a member of the Surrey something.’

‘The Sorry Union,’ replied Captain Quod.  ’He was out with them once, and fell off on his head and knocked his hat-crown out.’

‘Well, but I was telling you about the run,’ interposed Mr. Sponge, again endeavouring to enlist an audience.  ‘I was telling you about the run,’ repeated he.

‘Don’t trouble yourself, my dear sir,’ interrupted Captain Bouncey; ’we know all about it—­found—­checked—­killed, killed—­found—­checked.’

‘You can’t know all about it!’ snapped Mr. Sponge; ’for there wasn’t a soul there but myself, much to my horror, for I had a reg’lar row with old Scamperdale, and never a soul to back me.’

’What! you fell in with that mealy-mouthed gentleman, who can’t (hiccup) swear because he’s a (hiccup) lord, did you?’ asked Sir Harry, his attention being now drawn to our friend.

‘I did,’ replied Mr. Sponge; ’and a pretty passage of politeness we had of it.’