46 NOTITIA VENATICA. 



On February 13tli, iu the year 1825, a most extraordinary good run 

 took place from the noted fox-cover Deepdale, which was then a wcU-pre- 

 served cover of Sir Theophilus Biddidph's, and is even now a favourite 

 draw with the Warwickshire hounds. Lord Lichfield (at that time Lord 

 Anson) hunted what is known as the Dunchurch country, and it was 

 with his lordship's pack that this excellent rnn took place, which was 

 afterwards celebrated in verso by a well-known sporting divine, who had 

 the good luck to have come from a neighbouring country to meet his 

 lordship's hounds on that memorable occasion. 



THE DEEPDALE RUN. 



Here's success to the pack of the Staffordshire Lord, 



And a health to Sir The, who's a man of his word, 



For two better Britons ne'er joined their address, 



To realize sport with such signal success. 



And here's to the day, when at Deepdale again 



We'll find such a fox as was yesterday slain ; 



A traveller, stranger, stout, gallant, and shy. 



With his earths ten miles off, and those earths in his eye. 



He was off like a shot at the sound of the horn, 



As the stars disappear at the pale peep of morn. 



No uproar to render hounds wilful or wild, 



He was not viewed away by a Leicestershire field ; 



But a snug little party of gens cle province. 



With moderate nags, so the hounds had a chance. 



A party from Birb'ry, from Leamington some, 



A few were from Dunchurch, and Napier from home ; 



There was Wyndham and Ladbroke, Kingston, and Boweu, 



And twenty I had not the honour of knowing, 



With Applewait, Oliver, Spooner, and Lance, 



The peer on ' Young Watson,' and Coke on ' Advance.' 



The hounds they set-to, as if meaning to run. 



In spite of a gaudy, meridian sun ; 



They settled in earnest we very soon found, 



With their heads in the air, and their sterns on the ground ; 



How they dash up the headlands, and fling up the glades ! 



How they draw the best breath from the Leamington blades ! 



How jealous they render these ' Spa-swilling chaps,' 



Such whipping, such spurring, such charging of gaps, 



Such very tight neckcloths, such very slack reins, 



Such squeezing of gates, and such work in the lanes ! 



In short, I'll defy you to say, in the burst, 



Who were pressing, or nicking, or tailing, or first. 



The peer had no time to decide which was which : 



Go it, Victory, Tidings, and Spiteful, my bitch.* 



Not a word for a farmer, a rate for a flat, 



E'en for me, who at foot-ball had play'd with his hat. 



Quoth he, * If I judge by the line that he ran 



Once before, you may presently press if you can.' 



He was right, for although at first starting the tit 



Could just stay with the hounds, and o'er-ride them a bit, 



We had no sooner left the small fields and light soil, 



Than to live was a pleasure amounting to toU. 



* Three favourite hounds ia his lordship's pack. 



