Thompson, Mr. Rearman, and Mr. Johnson, Chichester; Tom Johnson (huntsman); Billy Ives (yeoman pricker to his Majesty’s hounds); David Briggs and Jim Ives (whips).
At a quarter before eight in the morning the fox was found in East Dean Wood, and ran an hour in that covert, then into the forest, up to Puntice Coppice, through Herring Dean to the Marlows, up to Coney Coppice, back through the Marlows to the Forest Westgate, over the fields to Nightingale Bottom, to Cobdens at Drought, up his Pine Pit Hanger (where his Grace of St. Albans got a fall). Through my Lady Tewkner’s Puttocks and missed the earth, through West Dean Wood, to the Corner of Cellars Down (where Lord Harcourt blew his first horse). Crossed the Hacking Place, down the length of Coney Coppice, through the Marlows to Herring Dean, into the Forest and Puntice Coppice, East Dean Wood, the Lower Teglease, across by Cocking course, down between Graffham and Wolavington, through Mr. Orme’s park and paddock, over the heath to Fielder’s Furzes, over Todham Heath, almost to Cowdray Park, there turned to the limekiln at the end of Cocking Causeway, through Cocking Park and Furzes, there crossed the road and up the hills between Bebton and Cocking.
Here the unfortunate Lord Harcourt’s second horse felt the effects of long legs and a sudden steep; the best thing that belonged to him was his saddle, which my lord had secured, but by bleeding and Geneva (contrary to act of Parliament) he recovered, and with some difficulty got home. And here Mr. Fauquier’s humanity claims your regard, who kindly sympathised with my lord in his misfortunes, and had not power to go beyond him.
At the bottom of Cocking Warren the hounds turned to the left across the road, by the barn near Herring Dean, then took the north gate of the Forest (here General Hawley thought it prudent to change his horse for a true blue that stayed up the hills; Billy Ives also took a horse of Sir Harry Liddle’s), went quite through the forest, and run the foil through Nightingale Bottom to Cobdens at Drought, up the Pit Hanger to Lady Lewkner’s Puttocks, through every mews she went through in the morning, through the warren above West Dean (where we dropt Sir Harry), down to Binderton Farm (here Lord Harry Beauclerk sunk), through Goodwood Park (here the Duke of Richmond chose to send three lame horses back to Charlton, and took Saucyface and Sir William, that were luckily at Goodwood; from thence at a distance Lord Harry was seen driving his horse before him to Charlton).
The hounds went out at the upper side of the park, across Stretsington road, by Sealy Coppice (where his Grace of Richmond got a summerset), through Halnaker Park, over Halnaker Hill, to Seabeach Farm.
At this point the master of the staghounds (Mr. Jennison), Cornet Honiwood, Tom Johnson, and Jim Ives, were thoroughly satisfied.
The hounds went on up Long Down, through Eartham Common Fields and Kemp’s High Wood, where Billy Ives tired his second horse, and took Sir William, and the Duke of St. Albans, having no greatcoat, returned to Charlton.
From Kemp’s High Wood the hounds took away through Gunworth Warren, Kemp’s rough piece, over Slindon Down to Madehurst Parsonage (where Billy came in with them), over Poor Down to Midhurst, then down to Haughton Forest (where his Grace of Richmond, General Hawley, and Mr. Pauncfort came in, the latter, however, to little purpose, for beyond the Ruel Hill neither he nor his horse cared to go, so returned to his impatient friends), from thence up the Ruel Hill, left Sherwood on the right hand, crossed Ofham Hill to Southwood, from thence to South 8toke, to the wall of Arundel river, where the glorious twenty-three hounds ran into their fox, and put an end to the campaign ten minutes before six. His Grace of Richmond, Billy Ives, and General Hawley, were the only persons in at the death, to the immortal honour of seventeen stone, and at least as many campaigns.I. Fenton.
THE THREE ELECTORS.
(A FAVOURITE ANECDOTE OF LUTHER’S.)
Three princes at the Diet met,
The one was Pfalzgrave of the Rhine,
The second, Lord of Saxony,
The third was of the Nassau line:
And at the twelfth hour of the night,
When deepest grew the revelry,
Over the glasses and the dice,
They came to words both loud and high.
First leaped the Pfalzgrave up, and said,
“You see my country on the Rhine,
Its castled crags, its miles on miles
Of precious purple-laden vine,
Its sloping meadows, seas of corn,
Its mills, its orchards on each hand,
Its clustered villages and spires—
Say, is not mine the fairest land?
But then the lord of Saxony
Rose and rebuked his brother knight,
And cried, “My brother, boast not so!
As sunshine is to the dark night,
So are our Saxon hills to yours;
For ours with silver caverns shine,
While your mere slopes of stone and clay
Glow only with the peasant’s vine.”
Then Nassau, last, so calm and grave,
Stirred not, but said, “I boast no mine,
My hills know but the herdsman’s huts,
And wear no crown of fruited vine;
But where I dwell, I dwell at peace,
In loneliest cabins dare to sleep;
My crown, hung on a tree, is safe,
For me no trembling children weep.”
The nobles sate with bonnets slouched,
A golden medal bound each plume,
The flagons shone beneath the lights
In that old panelled tavern-room;
And when Nassau had ceased to speak,
The others rose with generous glee,
And, clasping hands, cried out aloud,
“His is the best of all the three!”
T. W.
