HUNTING RECOLLECTIONS. 49 



There's Cream Gorse in the distance 

 Which offers no resistance; 

 Full of foxes that will fly 



At the sounding of the horn. 

 With a pack that truly race 

 Each man now takes his place, 

 For his heart is in the chase 



On a bye-day with the Quorn. 



Say, can anything surpass 



A gallop o'er the grass. 



Hounds straining, horses racing, 



The coldest blood grows warm. 

 We charge each rasping double, 

 No fear, nor thought of trouble. 

 Ah, give me sixteen couple 



And a bye-day with the Quom. 



Then my day's sport being over, 

 And my spirits all in clover, 

 Feeling young, fresh and happy 



As the day that I was born, 

 I order up a jumper, 

 And fill myself a thumper, 

 Drinking hunting in a bumper, 



And a bye-day with the Quorn. 



1877. 

 (Taken from The Field.) 



Our Quorn bye-day was at Gaddesby, the 

 " saddle and sirloin " of the hunt : for Mr. 

 Cheney's deeds in the one are only surpassed 

 by his wonderful success in producing the other,, 

 atid as we journey from the Hall I see the 

 rostrum where the auctioneer more than once 

 dispersed the herd of shorthorns to all quarters 

 of the globe. But before leaving the Hall I 



