A sportin’ death! My word it was! An’ taken in a sportin’ way. Mind you, I wasn’t there to see; I only tell you what they say. They found that day at Shillinglee, An’ ran ’im down to Chillinghurst; The fox was goin’ straight an’ free For ninety minutes at a burst. They ’ad a check at Ebernoe An’ made a cast across the Down, Until they got a view ’ullo An’ chased ’im up to Kirdford town. From Kirdford ’e run Bramber way, An’ took ’em over ’alf the Weald. If you ’ave tried the Sussex clay, You’ll guess it weeded out the field. Until at last I don’t suppose As ’arf a dozen, at the most, Came safe to where the grassland goes Switchbackin’ southwards to the coast. Young Captain ’Eadley, ’e was there, And Jim the whip an’ Percy Day; The Purcells an’ Sir Charles Adair, An’ this ’ere gent from London way. For ’e ’ad gone amazin’ fine, Two ’undred pounds between ’is knees; Eight stone he was, an’ rode at nine, As light an’ limber as you please. ’E was a stranger to the ’Unt, There weren’t a person as ’e knew there; But ’e could ride, that London gent— ’E sat ’is mare as if ’e grew there. They seed the ’ounds upon the scent, But found a fence across their track, And ’ad to fly it; else it meant A turnin’ and a ’arkin’ back. ’E was the foremost at the fence, And as ’is mare just cleared the rail He turned to them that rode be’ind, For three was at ’is very tail. ‘’Ware ’oles!’ says ’e, an’ with the word, Still sittin’ easy on his mare, Down, down ’e went, an’ down an’ down, Into the quarry yawnin’ there. Some say it was two ’undred foot; The bottom lay as black as ink. I guess they ’ad some ugly dreams, Who reined their ’orses on the brink. ’E’d only time for that one cry; ‘’Ware ’oles!’ says ’e, an’ saves all three. There may be better deaths to die, But that one’s good enough for me. For mind you, ’twas a sportin’ end, Upon a right good sportin’ day; They think a deal of ’im down ’ere, That gent what came from London way. THE HOME-COMING OF THE ‘EURYDICE’ [_Lost, with her crew of three hundred boys, on the last day of her voyage_, _March_ 23, 1876. _She foundered off Portsmouth_, _from which town many of the boys came_.] Up with the royals that top the white spread of her! Press her and dress her, and drive through the foam; The Island’s to port, and the mainland ahead of her, Hey for the Warner and Hayling and Home! Bo’sun, O Bo’sun, just look at the green of it! Look at the red cattle down by the hedge! Look at the farmsteading—all that is seen of it, One little gable end over the edge!’