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I made tlie remark, while standing at his graveside in Fiddown 

 Churchyard, that " Henry Briscoe and our foxhunting died and were 

 buried at the same time." Alas, too true has that remark proved ! 



Had this great foxhunter lived to see what was in store for the 

 sport he loved so well, and in particular for the Hunt he had done so 

 much for and was so proud of, I verily believe the sight would in itself 

 have killed the grand old fellow. Happily he was spared the ordeal. 



By altering a line I can apply one of Warburton's poems to my 

 friend : — 



Oh dear Henry Briscoe— how cheery 



To ride by your side in a ran ; 

 Whether midnight or morn, never Aveary 

 Of revel, and frolic, and fun. 



When we laid this good fellow the tomb in 

 His grave was not mocked with a bust. 



But his favourite evergreen blooming, 

 Shall spring and overshadow his dust. 



Peace ba to his manes, and may the sods for ever lie lightly o'er the 

 grave of Henry Briscoe ! 



