HUNTS WITH JOEROCKS 



The hounds strike forward, and getting upon 

 a grassy ride, carry the scent with a good head 

 for some quarter of a mile, to the ecstatic delight 

 of Mr. Jorrocks, who bumps along, listening to 

 their music, and hoping it might never cease. 



A check! They've overrun the scent. 'Hie 

 lack!' cries Mr. Jorrocks, turning his horse round; 

 'gone to the low crags I'll be bund that's the 

 way he always goes ; I '11 pop up 'ill, and stare 

 him out o' countenance, if he takes his old line ' ; 

 saying which, Mr. Jorrocks stuck spurs into 

 Arterxerxes, and, amid the grunts of the horse 

 and the rumbling of the loose stones, succeeded 

 in gaining the rising ground, while the hounds 

 worked along the brook below. 



The chorus grows louder ! The rocky dell 

 resounds the cry a hundredfold ! The tawny 

 owl, scared from his ivied crag, faces the sun 

 in a Bacchanalian sort of flight; wood-pigeons 

 wing their timid way, the magpie is on high, and 

 the jay's grating screech adds wildness to the 

 scene. What a crash ! Warm in the woody 



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