.tx'^ ^up. 



'Though older I feel younger, as day by day glides by, 

 And summer's blue departeth for winter's leaden sky ; 

 Wrinkles will quit my forehead, care to bliss yield 



up its place, 

 When again the woods re-echo with the music of 



the chase. 



THE FARMER'S CUP. 



T was market-day at Ridengton, and the 

 bar-parlour at the " Golden Lion" was as 

 inconveniently crowded as is customary 

 upon that auspicious weekly occasion. Through the 

 hazy, smoky atmosphere, in which it was enveloped, 

 several largely-printed yellow-tinted programmes 

 might have been discerned suspended from the 

 walls, indicative of the coming 'chases ; and in one 

 corner of tlie room a little group of sportsmen 

 might have been seen — as they would most certainly 

 have been heard — discussing the said forthcoming 

 events generally, and the Farmer's Cup in particular. 

 An awkward, yet comely-looking " hobble dehoy " 

 announced "As he wouldn't run 'is 'oss, lest he 

 should lame him afore the Yeomanry training," 

 whilst a stalwart farmer, of rubicund visage, and 



