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Perhaps it was impertinent in Soapey we don't mean to say it wasn't but he had done it so long, and was of so sporting a gait and cut, that he felt himself somewhat privileged. Moreover, the majority of horsemen are so satisfied with the animals they bestride, that they cock up their jibs and ride along with a 'find any fault with either me or my horse, if you can' sort of air. Thus Mr.
Our friend Soapey was now in good feather; he had got a large price for his good-for-nothing horse, with a very handsome bonus for not getting him back, making him better off than he had been for some time. Gentlemen of his calibre are generally extremely affluent in everything except cash.
'No, I never, replied Captain Bouncey. 'He should be called Spooney Sponge, not Soapey Sponge, observed Captain Seedeybuck. 'Well, but to whom? asked Captain Bouncey. 'Ah, to whom indeed! That's the question, rejoined her ladyship archly. 'I know, observed Bob Spangles. 'No, you don't. 'Yes, I do. 'Who is it, then? demanded her ladyship.
Soapsuds! that's not his name, exclaimed her ladyship. 'Sponge, you fool! Soapey Sponge, exclaimed Cutitfat, who had ferreted out Sponge's nomme de Londres. 'He's not come, has he? asked Miss Glitters eagerly. 'Yes, my lady that's to say, miss, replied Peter. 'Come, has he! chorused three or four voices. 'The green the one above the billiard-room will do, added he.
A man can hardly get over either of them without knowing it. Well, Soapey having got into Oxford Street, would make his way at a squarey, in-kneed, duck-toed, sort of pace, regulated by the bonnets, the vehicles, and the equestrians he met to criticize; for of women, vehicles, and horses, he had voted himself a consummate judge.
It was a murky October day that the hero of our tale, Mr. Sponge, or Soapey Sponge, as his good-natured friends call him, was seen mizzling along Oxford Street, wending his way to the West.
Soapey vaulted into the saddle, and seizing him by the head, let in the Latchfords in a style that satisfied the hack he was not going to canter in a circle. Away he went, best pace; for like all Mr. Sponge's horses, he had the knack of going, the general difficulty being to get them to go the way they were wanted. Sponge presently overtook Mr.
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