shake of the head. 'But stay,'
said he, 'there are some books over yonder,' pointing to the top of an
Indian cabinet, and squinting in a totally different direction. 'Let's see
what they are,' added he, rising, and stumping away to where they stood. _I
Promessi Sposi_, read he off the back of one. 'What can that mean! Ah, it's
Latin,' said he, opening the volume. _Contes a ma Fille_, read he off the
back of another. 'That sounds like racin',' observed he, opening the
volume, 'it's Latin too,' said he, returning it. 'However, never mind,
we'll "sugar Puff's milk," as Mr. Bragg would say, without po'try.' So
saying, Mr. Spraggon stumped back to his easy-chair. 'Well, now,' said he,
seating himself comfortably in it, 'let's see where did we go first? "He
broke at the lower end of the cover, and, crossing the brook, made straight
for Fleecyhaugh Water Meadows, over which," you may say, "there's always a
ravishing scent."' 'Have you got that?' asked Jack, after what he thought
a sufficient lapse of time for writing it.

'"Ravishing scent,"' repeated Sponge as he wrote the words.

'Very good,' said Jack, smoking and considering. '"From there,"' continued
he, '"he made a bit of a bend, as if inclining for the plantations at
Winstead, but, changing his mind, he faced the rising ground, and crossing
over nearly the highest part of Shillington Hill, made direct for the
little village of Berrington Roothings below."'

'Stop!' exclaimed Sponge, 'I haven't got half that; I've only got to "the
plantations at Winstead."' Sponge made play with his pen, and presently
held it up in token of being done.

'Well,' pondered Jack, 'there was a check there. Say,' continued he,
addressing himself to Sponge, '"Here the hounds came to a check."'

'Here the hounds came to a check,' wrote Sponge. 'Shall we say anything
about distance?' asked he.

'P'raps we may as well,' replied Jack. 'We shall have to stretch it though
a bit.'

'Let's see,' continued he; 'from the cover to Berrington Roothings over by
Shillington Hill and Fleecyhaugh Water Meadows will be--say, two miles and
a half or three miles at the most--call it four, well, four miles--say four
miles in twelve minutes, twenty miles an hour,--too quick--four miles in
fifteen minutes, sixteen miles an hour; no--I think p'raps it'll be safer
to lump the distance at the end, and put in a place or two that nobody
knows the name of, for the convenience of those who were not out.'

'But thos