I02 Frank Beers ^ Huntsman. 



And some little boys on ponies, 'tis but just I should explain^ 

 There are not many out this day who actually crane. 



XXXI. 



So stiff the line had been in short the field was soon well 



weeded ; 

 From funkers and from skirters both the chase had long 



receded ; 

 Far back along the roads they come like bands of border 



raiders 

 Who fly the justly angered foe and ply their cruel persuaders. 



XXXII. 



The Squire on wheels, his pair of roans with smoking sides 



appear, 

 Has made his point right skilfully and now the hunt draws 



near ; 

 He waits where we must cross the road, his chuckles are 



immense 

 To see the ditch is deep that guards a stiff upstanding fence. 



XXXIII. 



Our horses blown, we looked about to choose the softest place 

 Where if we fell we might repose with ease if not with grace. 

 " There's nothing here to stop you," the observant squire said, 

 Two nasty falls ensued, laughed he, " from going on your head." 



XXXIV. 



The hounds had now been doing all that lay within their power 

 Across a splendid country, mostly grass, for full an hour. 

 Yet captious critics, spite of that, would signally have failed 

 To find a fault to cavil at, for not a hound had tailed. 



XXXV. 



They ran so well together and they carried such a head 

 That almost ever}' hound in turn appeared to take the lead. 



