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THE HARKAWAY HUNT STEEPLECHASES. 



T is a lovely spring morning in April. The sun 

 is shining brightly ; the sky is at its very 

 bluest. The air is redolent of primroses and 

 ''them stinking violets," as John Leech's huntsman 

 called those most charming of wild flowers. Wood 

 pigeons are cooing amorously to one another in the woods, 

 whilst the song-birds — more especially the thrush, the 

 blackbird, and the lark — are carolling, one and all, as if 

 their little throats would burst, as much as to say, 

 " Hurrah ! my boys and girls ! the horrid cold weather 

 has gone, and now we can enjoy ourselves to our hearts 

 content " — in short, it's the very day of all others that 

 the cheery-minded person would choose for a merry- 

 making of some sort or another. 



So, apparently, seem to think the good Buttercupshire 

 folk residing within the limits of Lord Daisyfield's renowned 

 hunt, for they one and all seem out and about in their best 

 clothes this fine spring morning. " And why all this un- 

 wonted gaiety on the part of the natives ? " Ask the first 

 person you meet, when he will tell you that '' To-day 

 take place the Harkaway Hunt Steeplechases, to be sure, 

 one of the most popular institutions in the year, and a 

 day always set apart for keeping high holiday, by 

 everyone in the County, both of high and low degree." 

 The roads are positively crowded with foot-people 

 and vehicles of every sort, and as there is plenty of 



