WILLIAM MORRIS 



\oy 



on your head "). Another mile, and we took the deer at the homestead of 

 as good a sportsman as ever got into the pigskin — Mr. George Brown ; 

 and a dozen miles, as bounds ran, in sixty-five minutes, is what we made it, 

 our only regret being that none of the fair sex — and many started — were there 

 to see the Queen of the Valley taken. 



William Morris on his favourite grey 



This good horse, formerly the property of Mr. C. E. Green, 

 is fairly typical of the class of animal that gentleman used to 

 buy to carry his weight over the Essex ploughs. Mr. Morris 

 declares that he never had and never wishes for a better one. 

 We can quite believe this when Mr. Morris, who always rides 

 as straight as a gun barrel, tells us that in the five seasons he 

 has ridden him, the grey, who loves timber and iron sheep 

 hurdles as much as he does his own manger — for he is a rare 

 doer — has never once put him down. The horse loves hounds, 



