NOTITIA VBNATICA. 47 



The scent was improving, pace faster of course, 



The hound getting fleeter, and slower the horse ; 



Ev'ry foot o'er the vale the pack beat us at will, 



And were two fields a-head when they mounted the hill 



That's crown'd with the hall of Sir Shuckburgh's descendants, 



Ungraced and unaided by human attendants. 



The check at the earth gave us time to ascend. 



Where t'was smoking, and piping, and ' bellows to mend.' 



Fifty minutes so ripping, it must be confessed. 



Was enough for the bad ones, no joke for the best. 



And now o'er the vale where the Welshman* presides, 



And ' High Noble field,' with its evergreen sides. 



Where folks 'gan to falter, and justice to yield. 



The peer played a solo for many a field ; 



But for this he may thank the address of his man, 



Who brought up his mare fresh, the fleet Marianne. 



We brush' d him up smartish to Staverton wood ; 



He skirted it down the hill, hang his stout blood ; 



W^e headed, and back to the cover he slunk. 



The men in a pickle, the peer in a funk. 



From Staverton wood he broke cleanly and dry 



(We've known it before) ; ' A fresh fox,' was the cry. 



'The gentleman wished to be knowing, of course ; 



And perhaps he was fresh, when compared with his horse. 



Pug manag'd to make one small field from the cover, 

 A crash and a whimper, ' who-whoop !' and it's over. 



Scarce the fate of this veteran fox had been seal'd. 



When the question occurred, ' What's become of the field ? 



They can't be all beaten, they can't have stood still ; 



I've seen but six people from Shuckborough Hill. 



Perhaps the brook stopped them ; I hope they are in it.' 



' Don't alarm yourself, sir, they'll be here in a minute ; 



They'll meet with some farmer, a good pioneer.' 



The word was scarce spoken, when lo ! they appear ; 



They had sought for a road, and then made a wide cast, 



And the wind-sinking gentlemen came up at last. 



Little else to describe, if to write I was hired, 



But the jest of the fresh and excuse of the tired : 



' What kept you, kind sir, in the back-ground so far ?' 



' Why, I stopped at the village to light my cigar.' 



' I say, my good friend, at the brook why so linger ? 



' I got such a horrible thorn in my finger.' 



' A thorn in your finger ?' another replied, 



' You mean that the brook was a thorn in your side.* 



' Why so far in the rear ? were the spurs of no use .'" 



' Oh '. I rode to a halloa.' ' A hollow excuse.' 



Many thanks let us give to the Staffordshire peer. 



Whose pack has this day left us all in the rear. 



May his sport be as good as it's hitherto been. 



May he see as good runs as he's hitherto seen. 



And before many years have passed over his head 



He'll beat all the world both in science and speed." 



Let US now dismiss this chapter with the sincere hope tiiat, with the 

 rising generation of British sportsmen, this manly and soul-stirring 

 amusement may ever continue to hold the high rank that it does amongst 

 our numerous national sports ; nor may the murderous and selfish sys- 



* The late Sir Thomas Mostyn. The country is now hunted by Mr. Drake. 



