To the frequenters of the 'corner,' it were almost superfluous to mention
that he is a constant attendant. He has several volumes of 'catalogues,'
with the prices the horses have brought set down in the margins, and has a
rare knack at recognizing old friends, altered, disguised, or disfigured as
they may be--'I've seen that rip before,' he will say, with a knowing shake
of the head, as some woe-begone devil goes, best leg foremost, up to the
hammer, or, 'What! is that old beast back? why he's here every day.' No man
can impose upon Soapy with a horse. He can detect the rough-coated
plausibilities of the straw-yard, equally with the metamorphosis of the
clipper or singer. His practised eye is not to be imposed upon either by
the blandishments of the bang-tail, or the bereavements of the dock.
Tattersall will hail him from his rostrum with--'Here's a horse will suit
you, Mr. Sponge! cheap, good, and handsome! come and buy him.' But it is
needless describing him here, for every out-of-place groom and
dog-stealer's man knows him by sight.




CHAPTER II

MR. BENJAMIN BUCKRAM


Having dressed and sufficiently described our hero to enable our readers to
form a general idea of the man, we have now to request them to return to
the day of our introduction. Mr. Sponge had gone along Oxford Street at a
somewhat improved pace to his usual wont--had paused for a shorter period
in the ''bus' perplexed 'Circus,' and pulled up seldomer than usual between
the Circus and the limits of his stroll. Behold him now at the Edgeware