No thought he had of twisted spine,

Or broken arms or legs; Not chicken-hearted he, altho'

'Twas whispered of his eggs!

Ride out he would, and hunt he would,

Nor dreamt of ending ill;

Mayhap with Dr. Ridout's fee,

And Surgeon Hunter's bill.

So he drew on his Sunday boots,

Of lustre superfine;

The liquid black they wore that day,

Was Warren-ted to shine.

His yellow buckskins fitted close,

As once upon a stag;

Thus well equipt he gaily skipt,
At once, upon his nag.

But first to him that held the rein,

A crown he nimbly flung :

For holding of the horse?-why, no

For holding of his tongue.

To say the horse was Huggins' own,

Would only be a brag;

His neighbour Fig and he went halves,

Like Centaurs, in a nag.

And he that day had got the grey,

Unknown to brother cit;

The horse he knew would never tell,

Altho' it was a tit.

A well-bred horse he was, I wis,

As he began to show,

By quickly "rearing up within
The way he ought to go."

But Huggins, like a wary man,

Was ne'er from saddle cast;

Resolved, by going very slow,

On sitting very fast.

And so he jogged to Tot'n'am Cross,

An ancient town well known,

Where Edward wept for Eleanor
In mortar and in stone.

A royal game of fox and goose,
To play on such a loss;
Wherever she set down her orts,
Thereby he put a cross.

Now Huggins had a crony here,
That lived beside the way;

One that had promised sure to be

His comrade for the day.

Whereas the man had changed his mind,

Meanwhile upon the case!

And meaning not to hunt at all,

Had gone to Enfield Chase.

For why, his spouse had made him vow

To let a game alone,

Where folks that ride a bit of blood,

May break a bit of bone.

Now, be his wife a plague for life!

A coward sure is he:'

Then Huggins turned his horse's head, And crossed the bridge of Lea.

'His spouse had made him vow.

Thence slowly on thro' Laytonstone,
Past many a Quaker's box,-
No friends to hunters after deer,

Tho' followers of a Fox.

CER