THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



witli Mr. Corbet's foxliounds four daj's a week, which is tlie 

 number of their liunting clays, witli a bye one occasionally, 

 but he absolutely keeps a pack of harriers, to hunt the other 

 two. The climax, however, is yet to come. On being in- 

 formed, one Sunday morning, that a fox which had been 

 brought to him over night, had escaped from the place in 

 which it was confined, he ordered horses to be saddled for 

 himself and his man, and letting out his hounds, laid them on 

 the scent of the fugitive, and killed him after a sharp burst ! 

 This very extraordinary man never misses a day in the season ; 

 he knows hunting well, and is rapturously fond of it, but, 

 being shy of fences, sees very little of a run ; nevertheless, by 

 an intimate knowledge of the country, like his friend Mr. Corbet, 

 he generally appears shortly after the chase is finished, be it 

 never so good. 



' One of the bright features in this hunt is a ball and supper, 

 given annually to the ladies and gentlemen of the neighbour- 

 hood, at the sole expense of the members of it. That for this 

 year took place last week, and certainly was one of the best I 

 ever witnessed out of London. However, a description of such 

 matters is not much in my line, neither do I suppose it would 

 be ver}^ interesting to you ; still, as I know you like a neat 

 efi"usion of the lyric muse, and especially when she sings of the 

 chase, I will transcribe a song that was made for the occasion 

 by the Rev. T. Willy, and sung by him after supper, with the 

 very best effect : — 



"The tiiuniplis of heroes let otliers declare, 

 Or in ecstasy sing of the charms of the fair ; 



Of love, or of war, may the verse freely Ho^\ ! 

 Let the glass aid the song, while those pleasures I trace, 

 Those enlivening joys which arise from the chase. 



Tallylio ! tallyho ! — see the well-chosen 



Pack, liow they gallantly go ! 



A southerly wind, and ligiit clouds in the sky. 

 The air mild and fresh, nerves and spirits all liigii, 



Tallyho ! tallyho ! to the cover we go : 

 Hark ! Reveller's speaking — By heavens ! 'tis good, 

 Get forward and cheer them well out of the wood. 



Tallylio ! tallyho ! — see the \vell-chosen 



Pack, iiow together they go I 



Erect in his stirrups, witli listening eye, 

 Tlie master is catching at Batciieior's cry ; 

 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — all seem eager to go. 

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