COL. ANSTRUTHER THOMSON 67 



That time in December the best of our fun 

 Not a mile from the gorse, ere we'd hardly begun, 

 Heading straight to the river I thought we were done 

 But 'twas Bachelor's courage that made it a run. 



Yooi ! over, Bachelor ! 



Yooi ! over, old man ! 



As fierce as a torrent, as full as a tank, 

 That a hound ever crossed it his stars he may thank ! 

 While I watched how poor Benedict struggled and sank, 

 There was Bachelor shaking his sides on the bank. 



Forward on, Bachelor ! 



Catch ye who can ! 



From the find to the finish, the whole blessed day, 

 How he cut out the work ! how he showed us the way ! 

 When our fox doubled back where the fallow-deer lay, 

 How he stuck to the line, and turned short with his prey ! 



Yoi-yooite, Bachelor ! 



Right, for a crown ! 



Though so handy to cast, and so patient to stoop, 

 He'll dash at his fox like a hawk in her swoop ; 

 When his bristles are up you may swear it's who-whoop ! 

 And he carries the head marching home to his soup ! 



Sess ! Sess ! Bachelor ! 



Lap and lie down. 



Jack was better, and we got out hunting some- 

 times quietly. He passed a good deal of his time 

 at Glynn with the Vyvians, who were very kind to 

 him. 



I used to go out hunting with Mr. Trelawny, 

 and often went to Ivybridge. Will Boxall was 

 huntsman ; Dick Yeo, whipper-in. The terriers 

 were carried in panniers on a pony ridden by a 

 boy, Fred Back, who afterwards was huntsman to 

 Mr. Calmady at Tetcott. I bought " Bachelor," a 

 brown horse, from Pettrick (Pedrick) at Exeter for 

 , and John Darby sent me " Benedict," a good 

 5* 



