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Old Puffington was, however, what a wise heir esteems a great deal more an excellent man of business, and amassed mountains of money. To see his establishment at Stepney, one would think the whole world was going to be starched.
'I'm at Jawleyford's, replied our friend. 'Indeed! Jawleyford's, are you? repeated Mr. Puffington. 'Good fellow, Jawleyford gentleman, Jawleyford. How long do you stay? 'Why, I haven't made up my mind, replied Sponge. 'Have no thoughts of budging at present. 'Ah, well good quarters, said Mr. Puffington, who now smelt a rat; 'good quarters nice girls fine fortune fine place, Jawleyford Court.
Puffington took to them in earnest; bought a 'Beckford, and shortened his military stirrups to a hunting seat. One evening the rattle of Puff's pole-chains brought, in addition to the usual rush of shirt-sleeved helpers, an extremely smart, dapper little man, who might be either a jockey or a gentleman, or both, or neither.
And Sponge shortly after sent Spraggon a five pound note as his share of the transaction. When Mr. Puffington read Messrs. Sponge and Spraggon's account of the run with his hounds, in the Swillingford paper, he was perfectly horrified; words cannot describe the disgust that he felt.
Sponge's black-daubed clothes. 'Oh no! replied Sponge. 'Oh no! fell soft fell soft. More dirt, less hurt more dirt, less hurt. 'Why, you've been in a bog! exclaimed Mr. Puffington, eyeing the much-stained Hercules. 'Almost over head, replied Sponge. 'Scamperdale saw me going, and hadn't the grace to halloa. 'Ah, that's like him, replied Mr.
One evening, after he had indulged us with a more than usual dose, and was leaving the room to dress for an eight o'clock dinner at Long's, 'Buzzer! exclaimed the old man, clutching our arm, as the tears started to his eyes, 'Buzzer! that's an amaazin' instance of a pop'lar man! And certainly, if a large acquaintance is a criterion of popularity, young Puffington, as he was then called, had his fair share.
Ruddle, the painter, sir yes, sir very talented young man, sir asked me to sit for my portrait, sir is going to publish a series of portraits of all the best huntsmen in England, sir. 'And masters of hounds, interposed Mr. Ruddle, casting a sheep's eye at Mr. Puffington. 'And masters of hounds, sir, repeated Mr. Bragg; 'yes, sir, and masters of hounds, sir'; Mr.
Puffington was sensible that he killed very few foxes that, having put up with him so long, he thought it would never do to risk a quarrel, which might lose him the chance of getting rid of him and hounds altogether; therefore, Mr.
Altogether, Bragg overdid the thing; and when Mr. Puffington, in the solitude of a winter's day, took pen, ink, and paper, and drew out a 'balance sheet, he found that on the average of six brace of foxes to the season, they had cost him about three hundred pounds a head killing.
Before him, sir, I held office, sir, under the Duke of Downeybird, sir, of Downeybird Castle, sir, in Downeybirdshire, sir. 'Indeed! replied Mr. Puffington, with a half-bow and a smile of politeness.
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