Indeed, he had another difficulty besides the spelling, for the hounds having as usual had a great run after Mr.Sponge had floored him--knocked his right eye into the heel of his left boot, as he said--in the course of which run his lordship's horse had rolled over him on a road, he was like the railway people--unable to distinguish between capital and income--unable to say which were Sponge's bangs and which his own; so, like a hard cricket-ball sort of a man as he was, he just pocketed all, and wrote as we have described.
His lordship's and Mr.Puffington's letters diffused joy into a house that seemed likely to be distracted with trouble.
So then endeth our thirtieth chapter, and a very pleasant ending it is, for we leave everyone in perfect good humour and spirits, Sponge pleased at having got a fresh billet, Jawleyford delighted at the coming of the lord, and each fair lady practising in private how to sign her Christian name in conjunction with 'Scamperdale.'.