It shows a spirit superior to feelings of paltry economy, and we think a person would be much more excusable for being victimized by a man with a good velvet collar to his coat, than by one exhibiting that spurious sign of gentility--a horse and gig.
The reader will now have the kindness to consider Mr.Sponge arriving at Scampley.
'Ah, Mr.Sponge!' exclaimed Mr.Buckram, who, having seen our friend advancing up the little twisting approach from the road to his house through a little square window almost blinded with Irish ivy, out of which he was in the habit of contemplating the arrival of his occasional lodgers, Doe and Roe.

'Ah, Mr.Sponge!' exclaimed he, with well-assumed gaiety; 'you should have been here yesterday; sent away two sich osses--perfect 'unters--the werry best I do think I ever saw in my life; either would have bin the werry oss for your money.

But come in, Mr.Sponge, sir, come in,' continued he, backing himself through a little sentry-box of a green portico, to a narrow passage which branched off into little rooms on either side.
As Buckram made this retrograde movement, he gave a gentle pull to the wooden handle of an old-fashioned wire bell-pull in the midst of buggy, four-in-hand, and other whips, hanging in the entrance, a touch that was acknowledged by a single tinkle of the bell in the stable-yard.
They then entered the little room on the right, whose walls were decorated with various sporting prints chiefly illustrative of steeple-chases, with here and there a stunted fox-brush, tossing about as a duster.

The ill-ventilated room reeked with the effluvia of stale smoke, and the faded green baize of a little round table in the centre was covered with filbert-shells and empty ale-glasses.

The whole furniture of the room wasn't worth five pounds.
Mr.Sponge, being now on the dealing tack, commenced in the poverty-stricken strain adapted to the occasion.