led. Mr. Sponge tried hard to get
them on the right tack, were it only for the sake of singing the praises of
the horse for which he had so often refused three hundred guineas, but he
never succeeded in retaining an hearing. Talkers were far more plentiful
than listeners.

At last they got to singing, and when men begin to sing, it is a sign that
they are either drunk, or have had enough of each other's company. Sir
Harry's hiccup, from which he was never wholly free, increased tenfold, and
he hiccuped and spluttered at almost every word. His hand, which shook so
at starting that it was odds whether he got his glass to his mouth or his
ear, was now steadied, but his glazed eye and green haggard countenance
showed at what a fearful sacrifice the temporary steadiness had been
obtained. At last his jaw dropped on his chest, his left arm hung
listlessly over the back of the chair, and he fell asleep. Captain Quod,
too, was overcome, and threw himself full-length on the sofa. Captain
Seedeybuck began to talk thick.

Just as they were all about brought to a standstill, the trampling of
horses, the rumbling of wheels, and the shrill twang, twang, twang of the
now almost forgotten mail horn, roused them from their reveries. It was
Sir Harry's drag scouring the country in search of our party. It had been
to all the public-houses and beer-shops within a radius of some miles of
Nonsuch House, and was now taking a speculative blow through the centre of
the circle.

It was a clear frosty night, and the horses' hoofs rang, and the wheels
rolled soundly over the hard road, cracking the thin ice, yet hardly
sufficiently frozen to prevent a slight upshot from the wheels.

[Illustration: MR. BUGLES PREFERS DANCING TO HUNTING]

Twang, twang, twang, went the horn full upon Farmer Peastraw's house,
causing the sleepers to start, and the waking ones to make for the window.

'COACH-A-HOY!' cried Bob Spangles, smashing a pane in a vain
attempt to get the window up. The coachman pulled up at the sound.

'Here we are. Sir Harry!' cried Bob Spangles, into his brother-in-law's
ear, but Sir Harry was too far gone; he could not 'come to time.' Presently
a footman entered with furred coats, and shawls, and checkered rugs, in
which those who were sufficiently sober enveloped themselves, and those who
were too far gone were huddled by Peastraw and the man; and amid much hurry
and confusion, and jostling for inside seats, the party freighted the