Jawleyford has not stood the honour of the Scamperdale alliance quite so well as his daughter; and when our ‘amaazin’ instance of a pop’lar man,’ instigated perhaps by the desire to have old Scamp for a brother-in-law, offered to Amelia, Jaw got throaty and consequential, hemmed and hawed, and pretended to be stiff about it.  Puff, however, produced such weighty testimonials, as soon exercised their wonted influence.  In due time Puff very magnanimously proposed uniting his pack with Lord Scamperdale’s, dividing the expense of one establishment between them, to which his lordship readily assented, advising Puff to get rid of Bragg by giving him the hounds, which he did; and that great sporting luminary may be seen ’s-c-e-u-s-e’-ing himself, and offering his service to masters of hounds any Monday at Tattersall’s—­though he still prefers a ‘quality place.’

Benjamin Buckram, the gentleman with the small independence of his own, we are sorry to say has gone to the ‘bad.’  Aggravated by the loss he sustained by his horse winning the steeple-chase, he made an ill-advised onslaught on the cash-box of the London and Westminster Bank; and at three score years and ten this distinguished ‘turfite,’ who had participated with impunity in nearly all the great robberies of the last forty years, was doomed to transportation.  And yet we have seen this cracksman captain—­for he, too, was a captain at times—­jostling and bellowing for odds among some of the highest and noblest of the land!

Leather has descended to the cab-stand, of which he promises to be a distinguished ornament.  He haunts the Piccadilly stands, and has what he calls ‘’stablish’d a raw’ on Mr. Sponge to the extent of three-and-six-pence a week, under threats of exposing the robbery Sponge committed on our friend Mr. Waffles.  That volatile genius, we are happy to add, is quite well, and open to the attentions of any young lady who thinks she can tame a wild young man.  His financial affairs are not irretrievable.

And now for the hero and heroine of our tale.  The Sponges—­for our friend married Lucy shortly after the steeple-chase—­stayed at Nonsuch House until the bailiffs walked in.  Sir Harry then bolted to Boulogne, where he shortly afterwards died, and Bugles very properly married my lady.  They are now living at Wandsworth; Mr. Bugles and Lady Scattercash, very ’much thought of’—­as Bugles says.

Although Mr. Sponge did not gain as much by winning the steeple-chase as he would have done had Hercules allowed him to lose it, he still did pretty well; and being at length starved out of Nonsuch House, he arrived at his old quarters, the Bantam, in Bond Street, where he turned his attention very seriously to providing for Lucy and the little Sponge, who had now issued its prospectus.  He thought over all the ways and means of making money without capital, rejecting Australia and California as unfit for sportsmen and men fond of their Moggs.  Professional steeple-chasing Lucy decried, declaring she would rather return to her flag-exercises at Astley’s, as soon as she was able, than have her dear Sponge risking his neck that way.  Our friend at length began to fear fortune-making was not so easy as he thought—­indeed, he was soon sure of it.