204 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 



"Anything you please," said Trimbush. 

 " But as I was about saying," continued he, 

 '* if you should come out so powerfully strong, 

 perhaps you'd make room for a little slice of 

 an attempt at a song upon our worthy master 

 — God bless him ! ' ' 



** Of your composing? " inquired I. 



Trimbush coughed, licked his paws, 

 examined the tip of his stern, as if a flea was 

 taking a liberty in that quarter, but gave no 

 answer. 



I repeated the question. 



"As you will have it," he rejoined, 

 pettishly, " then it is my composition." 



" I feel assured that you need not be 

 ashamed of it," returned I. " Pray let me 

 hear the effusion." 



** You'll not laugh ? " said he, inquiringly. 



" Not if the intent be serious," I replied. 



" In that case," rejoined Trimbush, " here 

 goes ! " and in a subdued, melodious voice, he 

 commenced his original song of 



THE OLD HUNTING SQTJIEE. 



I'll sing you a sporting" song that was made by a 



sporting pate, 

 Of a fine old hunting Squire, who has a fine estate. 

 And who keeps his hounds and hunters at a liberal 



old rate. 



