One day as he was staring vacantly out of the Bantam coffee-room window, between the gilt labels, ‘Hot Soups’ and ‘Dinners,’ he was suddenly seized with a fit of virtuous indignation at the disreputable frauds practised by unprincipled adventurers on the unwary public, in the way of betting offices, and resolved that he would be the St. George to slay this great dragon of abuse.  Accordingly, after due consultation with Lucy, he invested his all in fitting up and decorating the splendid establishment in Jermyn Street, St. James’s, now known as the SPONGE AND CIGAR BETTING ROOMS, whose richness neither pen nor pencil can do justice to.

We must, therefore, entreat our readers to visit this emporium of honesty, where, in addition to finding lists posted on all the great events of the day, they can have the use of a Mogg while they indulge in one of Lucy’s unrivalled cigars; and noblemen, gentlemen, and officers in the household troops may be accommodated with loans on their personal security to any amount.  We see by Mr. Sponge’s last advertisements that he has L116,300 to lend at three and a half per cent.!

‘What a farce,’ we fancy we hear some enterprising youngster exclaim—­’what a farce, to suppose that such a needy scamp as Mr. Sponge, who has been cheating everybody, has any money to lend, or to pay bets with if he loses!’ Right, young gentleman, right; but not a bit greater farce than to suppose that any of the plausible money-lenders, or infallible ‘tips’ with whom you, perhaps, have had connection have any either, in case it’s called for.  Nay, bad as he is, we’ll back old Soapey to be better than any of them,—­with which encomium we most heartily bid him ADIEU.

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES: 

[1] Query, ’snob’?—­Printer’s Devil.

[2] The Poetical Recorder of the Doings of the Dublin Garrison dogs, in Bell’s Life.

[3] Vide ‘Barnwell and Alderson’s Reports.’

[4] ‘S,’ for Scamperdale, showing they were his lordship’s.