FOX HUNTING. IO5 



in Washington, some years ago; George Hill, 

 Samuel Miller, William Bullock, George Darling- 

 ton, all well-known names of men who have 

 toasted each other from boyhood; Dr. Huidekoper, 

 of Philadelphia, the ex-postmaster's brother; Sher- 

 iff Rowland, of Media, and his nephew, the doctor. 

 It is 'Willie,' 'Harry,' 'Jack,' 'Tom.' You don't 

 hear a single surname. 



"After the good, pure, wholesome country 

 food has been done justice to, cigars are lighted, 

 and a brief hour is given to discussing arrange- 

 ments for the autumn meeting. Then merriment 

 holds undisputed sw^ay, and song — from a young 

 man with a sweet tenor voice — is making the 

 rafters ring to : — 



" 'My pretty little cruiskeen lawn-lawn lawn. 

 My pretty little cruiskeen lawn.' 



"And the /echo of the jolly old song floats 

 after us as we drive home in the moonlight at 

 break-neck speed to catch the last train." 



The members of the club recollect with 

 pleasure the delightful manner in which Charlton 

 Yarnall, who was a member in 1891, sang his old 

 hunting songs, "The Fox Jumped over the Garden 

 Wall," and "A-hunting We Will Go," with his 

 peculiarly rich, clear, and expressive voice; and 



