APPF.NniX. 



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By limner's cunning art ' portrayed, 

 But, mustering at the merry meet, 

 Still may we sometimes hope to greet. 



Old Conyers long has gone to ground 

 Those lovers of the horse and hound. 

 Father and son, the Arkwrights sleep 

 A slumber so profound and deep, 

 They will not hear the blast of horn 

 Till roused on Resurrection morn. 



But you ! in manhood's golden prime, 



Not by the cruel liand of time. 



Nor duties of the State removed 



From all who loved you, all you loved ! 



Dear Charlie ! this our earnest prayer. 



Our sport with you once more to share ; 



While memory shall keep ever green, 



The thought of all we've lost, the glories that have been 



Lord Rookwood, Mr. Conyers, and Messrs. .'Xrkuri.sihl were former .Masters 

 of the Esse.\ Hounds. The first has had his portrait presented to him. 



