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Read Ebook: Zoölogy: The Science of Animal Life Popular Science Library Volume XII (of 16) P. F. Collier & Son Company 1922 by Ingersoll Ernest
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Ebook has 123 lines and 104572 words, and 3 pages
"The Mudsquashington Foxhounds had a good day's sport from Wotsisname Coverts . They found in Thingamy Woods, rattled him round the Osier Beds, and then through the Gorse, just above Sumware. Leaving this and turning left-handed, he ran on as far as Sumotherplace, where he finally got to ground. Amongst the numerous field were Lord Foozle and Lady Frump, Messrs. Borkins, Poshbury, and Tomkyn-Smith."
AT MELTON
RATHER
"Is fox-hunting dangerous?" asks one of our daily papers. A fox informs us that it has its risks.
PROOF POSITIVE
BY THE COVERT SIDE
IN THE MIDLANDS
AT THE HUNT BALL
O MOLLY, dear, my head, I fear, is going round and round, Your cousin isn't in the hunt, when hunting men abound; A waltz for me no more you'll keep, the girls appear to think There's a law been made in favour of the wearing of the pink. Sure I met you in the passage, and I took you by the hand, And says I, "How many dances, Molly, darlint, will ye stand?" But your card was full, you said it with a most owdacious wink, And I'm "hanging" all your partners for the wearing of the pink! You'd a waltz for Charlie Thruster, but you'd divil a one for me, Though he dances like a steam-engine, as all the world may see; 'Tis an illigant divarsion to observe the crowd divide, As he plunges down the ball-room, taking couples in his stride. 'Tis a cropper you'll be coming, but you know your business best, Still, it's bad to see you romping round with Charlie and the rest; Now you're dancing with Lord Arthur--sure, he's had enough to dhrink-- And I'm "hanging" all your partners for the wearing of the pink! Your cruelty ashamed you'll be someday to call to mind, You'll be glad to ask my pardon, then, for being so unkind, The hunting men are first, to-night--well, let them have their whack-- You'll be glad to dance with me, someday--when all the coats are black! But, since pink's the only colour now that fills your pretty head, Bedad, I'll have some supper, and then vanish home to bed. 'Tis the most distressful ball-room I was ever in, I think, And I'm "hanging" all your partners for the wearing of the pink!
WHY HE WAITED
"What's the matter with Jack's new horse? He won't start."
"Don't know; but they say he's been in an omnibus. Perhaps he's waiting for the bell!"
SO CONSOLING
IRISH HUNTING TIPPLE
HUNTING SONG
Tantivy! Anchovy! Tantara! The moon is up, the moon is up, The larks begin to fly, And like a scarlet buttercup Aurora gilds the sky. Then let us all a-hunting go, Come, sound the gay French horn, And chase the spiders to and fro, Amid the standing corn. Tantivy! Anchovy! Tantara!
UNCOMMONLY KEEN
"Oh, the stupid utterly refused to take that brook, so I left him and swam it. I couldn't miss the end of this beautiful thing!"
"BUSINESS FIRST"
AN OMISSION BEST OMITTED
HUNTING EXTRAORDINARY
Jobson, who edits a cheerful little weekly, said to me the other day:
"You hunt, don't you?"
I looked at him knowingly. Jobson interpreted my smile according to his preconceived idea.
"I thought so," he continued.
"Well, you might do me a bright little article--about half a column, you know--on hunting, will you?"
Why should I hesitate? Jobson is safe for cash; and he had not asked me to give my own experiences of the hunting field. I replied warily, "I fancy I know the sort of thing you want."
"Good," he said, and before we could arrive at any detailed explanation he had banged the door and dashed downstairs, jumped into his hansom and was off.
This was the article:-
THOUGHTS ON HUNTING.
The "mort" is sounded by four green velvet-coated huntsmen, with horns wound round their bodies; a beautiful brush presented to the lady who was first up at the "take"; and then the field slowly disperse. Tally Ho-Yoicks! all is over for the day.
THE LAST DAY OF HUNTING
Right day to bid a long farewell To the field's gladsome glee; To hang the crop upon its peg, The saddle on its tree. All Fools' the day, all Fools' the deed, That hunting's end doth bring-- With all those stinking violets, And humbug of the Spring!
Good-bye to pig-skin and to pink, Good-bye to hound and horse! The whimpering music sudden heard From cover-copse and gorse; The feathering stems, the sweeping ears, The heads to scent laid low, The find, the burst, the "Gone-away!" The rattling "Tally-ho!"
My horses may eat off their heads, My huntsman eat his heart; My hounds may dream of kills and runs In which they've borne their part, Until the season's bore is done, And Parliament set free, And cub-hunting comes back again To make a man of me!
THE ADVANTAGE OF EDUCATION
"FOOT AND MOUTH" TROUBLE
A valuable hunter, belonging to Mr. Durlacher, got its hind foot securely fixed in its mouth one day last week, and a veterinary surgeon had to be summoned to its assistance. This recalls the ancient Irish legend of the man who never opened his mouth without putting his foot into it. But that, of course, was a bull.
DECIDEDLY NOT
UNGRATEFUL
REASSURING
'INTS ON 'UNTING, BY 'ARRY
EXCUSABLE
CASUAL
AT OUR OPENING MEET
MUST BE HUNGRY
"Wish you'd feed your horse before he comes out."
"Eh--why--hang it!--what do you mean?"
"He's always trying to eat my boots. He evidently thinks there's some chance of getting at a little corn!"
DISINTERESTED KINDNESS
ENCOURAGING
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