3\lr. Bromley-Davenport 



of * Lowesby Hall,' which we have included in this collec- 

 tion of sporting literature because it is worth preserving, 

 and because an acquaintance with it will add greatly to the 

 humours of the hunting-field. A young lady once went 

 out hunting by train, and looked forward to returning in the 

 same conveyance. But it was not to be. A long point made 

 it necessary to ride home some sixteen or seventeen miles ; 

 the saddle did not get any softer, but some of the long 

 weary miles were made to seem short and less tiring by 

 the fact that her companion was able to recite to her ' The 

 Dream of an Old Meltonian ' and ' Lowesby Hall.' 



THE DREAM OF AN OLD MELTONIAN 



I am old, I am old, and my eyes are grown weaker, 



My beard is as white as the foam on the sea, 

 Yet pass me the bottle, and fill me a beaker, 



A bright brimming toast in a bumper for me. 

 Back, back through long vistas of years I am wafted. 



But the glow at my heart 's undiminished in force, 

 Deep, deep in that heart has fond memory engrafted 



Those quick thirty minutes from Ranksboro' Gorse. 



What is time .? the effluxion of life Zoophitic 



In dreary pursuit of position or gain. 

 What is life ? The absorption of vapours mephitic, 



And the bursting of sunlight on senses and brain ! 



93 



