AND TIMES OF JOHN OSBORNE 7 



In viewing the countryside one almost imagines that 

 Burns had it in his mind's eye when he wrote 



" The partridge Iove8 the fruitful fells ; 



The plover loves the mountains ; 

 The woodcock haunts the lonely dells ; 



The soaring hern the fountains : 

 Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves, 



The path of man to shun it ; 

 The hazel-bush o'erhangs the thrush, 



The spreading thorn the linnet." 



Quitting Middleham for the nonce, and its dim past, 

 let the wayfarer wend his way to the not far distant 

 " God's acre " at Coverham Church, and meditate 

 awhile amongst the tombs. The grey December day 

 adds to the solemn grace of the scene. Here, released 

 from the strife of the racecourse and the " damned 

 iteration " of the ring, lie some worthies who come 

 within the scope of this story. In a quiet corner of the 

 peaceful place a tombstone bearing the following 

 comes into view: 



IN AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE OF 



HARRY GRIMSHAW, 

 WHO DIED 4TH OCTOBER, 1866, 



IN THE 2GTH YEAR OF HIS AGE. 

 "In the midst of Life we are in death." 



After reading that simple epitaph one recalls that 

 poor Harry Grimshaw, cut off in the flower of his 

 manhood through a fatal trap accident at Newmarket, 

 was the "pilot" of the mighty Gladiateur. He had 

 not long become the devoted husband of Miss Osborne, 

 in accordance with whose wish the famous jockey's 



