CHAPTER XLIV.
WANTED--A RICH GOD-PAPA! 'When one door shuts another opens,' say the saucy servants; and fortune was equally favourable to our friend Mr.Sponge.Though he could not think of any one to whom he could volunteer a visit.

Dame Fortune provided him with an overture from a party who wanted him! But we will introduce his new host, or rather victim.
People hunt from various motives--some for the love of the thing--some for show--some for fashion--some for health--some for appetites--some for coffee-housing--some to say they have hunted--some because others hunt.
Mr.Jogglebury Crowdey did not hunt from any of these motives, and it would puzzle a conjurer to make out why he hunted; indeed, the members of the different hunts he patronized--for he was one of the run-about, non-subscribing sort--were long in finding out.

It was observed that he generally affected countries abounding in large woods, such as Stretchaway Forest, Hazelbury Chase, and Oakington Banks, into which he would dive with the greatest avidity.

At first people thought he was a very keen hand, anxious to see a fox handsomely found, if he could not see him handsomely finished, against which latter luxury his figure and activity, or want of activity, were somewhat opposed.

Indeed, when we say that he went by the name of the Woolpack, our readers will be able to imagine the style of man he was: long-headed, short-necked, large-girthed, dumpling-legged little fellow, who, like most fat men, made himself dangerous by compressing a most unreasonable stomach into a circumscribed coat, each particular button of which looked as if it was ready to burst off, and knock out the eye of any one who might have the temerity to ride alongside of him.