292 THE WARWICKSHIRE HUNT. ^1895 



There only remains the stoiy, 



Of monrnfnl and sad lament, 

 The funeral march of thy glory, t 



The rift in the bright kite rent. 



What do thy sad notes tell us ? 



What is it memory brings ? 

 Of joys and griefs that befel us 



When joining " the Sport of Kings ! "' 



Is it Kitty's habit that flutters 



To thy merry music in tune ; 

 Or darksome care that still mutters 



For pleasure that's fled too soon ? 



Good-bye ! to that ringing double, 



Which told of Reynard away, 

 When pain and sorrow and trouble 



Have flown like spectres at day. 



Good-bye ! to that blast so thrilling, 



Which, wakening our mimic strife. 

 The moments with centuries filling, 



Set us to ride for our life ! 



Good-bye ! far, far o'er the billow 



Of grass we rode the right sort. 

 But scarce a score heard Lord WiUough — 



— By blowing the distant morte. 



Good-bye to thy long drawn wailing ! 



When dusk of evening's nigh. 

 The darkness around thee veiling, 

 Now louder, now gently failing, 



Good-bye, sweet horn, good-by — e ! 



Reg. Wyverne. 



The North Warwickshire Hounds, under the master- 

 ship of Lord Algernon Percy and Mr. J, P. Arkwi'ight, 

 had a most successful season. 



I remember beuig told by my second horseman of some 

 remarkable instances of the attachment of horses to one 

 another. Usually two horses that were in the habit of being 

 sent on together to covert became fond of each other. At 



