"Where the----! What the----!! Who the----!!! Why the----!!!!"]
_Sportsman (who has mounted friend on bolting mare) shouts._ "You're all right, old chap! She's never been known to refuse water, and swims like a fish!"]
[Illustration: _Old Stubbles_ (_having pounded the swells_). "Aw--haw----! laugh away, but who be the roight side o' the fence, masters?"]
1. "Ah, my boys," said Percy Johnson, "give me a good old hurry and scurry--Heigh O! gee whoa!--over the downs and through the brushwood after the cubs. So, early in the morning as you like. What can be more exhilarating?"
2. So, in happy anticipation of the morrow's meet, he retired.]
[Illustration: 3. Later, at 4 a.m., the butler came to rouse him. "Sir!" A pause. "Sir, th' 'osses be very nigh ready!" Uncertain voice from within--"Eh? good-night! Remember to call me early in the morning!"
4. Snoring resumed _in infinitum_. Still, Percy looked rather sheepish later on, when the others pretended they had missed him on the road, and inquired whether he had found the morning as exhilarating as he had expected.]
(_A Song for the commencement of the Hunting Season_)
She's rather too lean but her head's a large size, And she hasn't the average number of eyes; Her hind legs are not what you'd call a good pair, And she's broken both knees, has my little brown mare.
You can find some amusement in counting each rib, And she bites when she's hungry like mad at her crib; When viewed from behind she seems all on the square, She's quite a Freemason--my little brown mare.
Her paces are rather too fast, I suppose, For she often comes down on her fine Roman nose, And the way she takes fences makes hunting men stare, For she backs through the gaps does my little brown mare.
She has curbs on her hocks and no hair on her knees; She has splints and has spavins wherever you please? Her neck, like a vulture's, is horribly bare, But still she's a beauty, my little brown mare.
She owns an aversion to windmills and ricks, When passing a waggon she lies down and kicks; And the clothes of her groom she'll persistently tear-- But still she's no vice has my little brown mare.
When turned down to grass she oft strays out of bounds; She always was famous for snapping at hounds; And even the baby has learnt to beware The too playful bite of my little brown mare.