THE FARMERS. 151 



been their object tii cultivate their s^ciodwill in e\i-ry way. ami they ha\c lieard 

 very general satisfaction expressed at tin^ conduct of ail the nuMubers. They 

 have to congratulate the Hunt on tlu' lari^e tract of country o\er which thev 

 have pennission to hunt, .and tlicy trust th.at it will continue to l)c the aim 

 of each member to do all in his power to retain the ,t;<)od opinion in which the 

 Hunt is now held. 



The R.R.I], have ever since studied to act with all due consideration 

 for the fanner and his interests. On 3rd February, 1S66, notice was sent to 

 the members, that — 



In consequence of the plague now raging among cattle in the Hundred of 

 Wirral, the R.R. Beagle Hunt have determined to discontinue hunting for the 

 remainder of the season. 



It is much to be regretted by all beaglers, that the farmers over whose 

 land we hunt do not oftener join us in our sport, and take a run with the 

 liounds. We should be quite delighted to see them take an interest in us, 

 but fear that, although, as a class, they are fond of hunting, they prefer 

 riding to hounds, and do not consider it a pleasure to trami) over soft fields 

 on their own shanks. They are more drawn to foxhounds than to beagles, 

 as the former give them an opportunity of schooling their young horses, 

 and. perhaps, finding customers for a likely hunter. 



Farmer Hodge to his dame, says. I'm sixty and lame, 



Times are hard, and my rent I can't pay ; 

 But I don't care a jot, if I raise it or not. 



For I must go out hunting to-day. 



Old Huiitini^ Song. 



Now golden .\utunm from her open lap 



Her fragrant bounties show'rs ; the fields are shorn : 



Inwardly smiling, the proud farmer views 



The rising pyramids that grace his yard. 



And counts his large increase : his barns are stor'd. 



And groaning staddles bend beneath their load. 



All now is free as air, and the gay pack 



In the rough bristly stubbles range unblam'd. 



No widow's tears o'erflow, no secret curse 



Swells in the farmer's breast, which his pale lips 



Trembling conceal, by his fierce landlord aw'd ; 



But courteous now he levels every fence, 



Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud, 



Charmed with the rattling thunder of the field. 



So)iien-ilc\ 



