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 gray, Unknown to brother cit; The horse he knew would never tell, Although 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. Thence slowly on through Laytonstone, Past many a Quaker’s box-- No Friends to hunters after deer, Though followers of a _Fox_. And many a score behind--before-- The self-same rout inclined; And, minded all to march one way, Made one great march of mind. Gentle and simple, he and she, And swell, and blood, and prig; And some had carts, and some a chaise, According to their gig. Some long-eared jacks, some knacker’s hacks (However odd it sounds), Let out that day to _hunt_, instead _Of going to the hounds_! And some had horses of their own, And some were forced to job it; And some, while they inclined to _Hunt_, Betook themselves to _Cob-it_. All sorts of vehicles and vans, Bad, middling, and the smart; Here rolled along the gay barouche, And there a dirty cart! And lo! a cart that held a squad Of costermonger line; With one poor hack, like Pegasus, That slaved for all the Nine! Yet marvel not at any load That any horse might drag; When all, that morn, at once were drawn Together by a stag. Now when they saw John Huggins go At such a sober pace; “Hallo!” cried they; “come trot away, You’ll never see the chase!” But John, as grave as any judge, Made answer quite as blunt; “It will be time enough to trot, When I begin to hunt!”