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JOHNA.SEAVERNS

WORKS BY

GRACE CLARKE NEWTON

A SMALL GIRL'S STORIES
A BOOK OF RHYME

POEMS IN PASSING

First Series

POEMS IN PASSING

A Second Gleaning
(In preparation)

A HUNTING ALPHABET

Illustrated

THE

ABC

OF

DRAG HUNTING

BY

GRACE CLARKE NEWTON

EPDUTTON 8COHPANY.

68lf If TH AVENUE

NEW^YOR^C.^^

ESTABLISHED 185Z

Copyright, 1917
E. P. Duttoii & Company

Redfield-Kendrick-Odell Co., Inc.
New York

The illustrations arc from sonic paintings by
Richard Newton, Jr.

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A is Ambition which leads you to buy

A qualified hunter, the picture of pride,

Of whom it is said,* 'He takes off in his stride/*

This means he jumps you off with hounds in
full cry.

B is the Beauty who's learning to **go,'*

Who comes to the Club on the morn of the
Meet,

And says to the Master, * 'Now if you'll be sweet

And let me ride near you, I'll finish I know!"

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Benjamin Nicoll, Esq. — Essex Hunt (on Cocktail)

C is the Casualty frequently met

When a Ditch next a creeper-clad fence lies
concealed ;

Also the Comments of most of the field,

**For the man who lays drags with a butter-
fly net! '*

D is the overworked letter so Dear

To the heart of the Sportsman who's riding a
skate,

Who thinks there is no one to open the gate

And fails to observe that the Vicar stands near.

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z
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E is your Epitaph, writ by a wag,

Which reached you by post on your first hunt-
ing morn;

"Hie jacet! He hoped to be pride of the
Quorn

But died of sheer fright ere he rode in one
drag."

F is the Fence '*made of stout posts and rails

Five feet' ' ! You * 'sailed over it riding the
grey*^

But do not dine out on it often, I pray,

For at each repetition the interest pales.

c
W

G is the Gathering Gloom of Her Grace,

The Great One, invited to open our Ball,

When she heard that the Master had had a
a bad fall

And the Honorable Whip is to fill in his
place.

H is the Horn of the Huntsman that sounds
Rather wheezy and thin to irreverent ears;
But Ah ! 'tis a music melodic, which cheers
The Hearts of the nailers who follow Hounds.

I is the Impulse by which you are curst;

To prove you have courage when fox hounds

are '^Cast/'

*'ril jam in my spurs and be after them fast,"
It seems that the Master prefers to go first.

J is the Jackrabbit, running so free,

And the Jar to the Master who sees that his
pack

Have tacitly told him they cannot come back

'Til the last of their fat furry friend they can
see.

K is the Kennels where foxhounds are kept,

A visit to these is a part of the Game;

'lis a wise M. F. H. knows each couple by
name,

But when they know him they say strong
men have wept.

L is for **Larking" to try out a colt;

How lightly he leaps from the paddock or pen,

But, once on his back it's a question of when

He will lie down or roll on you, buck, jump
or bolt.

M is the Merriment seen on each face,
At the rumor some hunting man offers to sell
''The pick of the stable, because he can't tell
If he's going abroad for a season to race.''

N is the Nag, ''Nervy Nat/' who was lent
For your use by a friend when your own
horse broke down,

And the News, that was sent to your dear
ones in Town,

**Some bones have been broken and some are
just bent/'

O is the Opportune Offer you made

To carry a flask in case of a spill ;

Then you learn that it's equally good for a chill

And most of the field of a chill are afraid.

P is for '*Pink/' to its pomp we aspire

When riding in ''mufti" ; but how do we feel

When bound for the Meet, quite the modern
John Peel,

If village boys shout, ''Oh, I say, where's the
fire?"

Q is the Quagmire where you get stuck

And the Quizzical Questions of those on the
bank,

Who, as they help you to rescue your horse on
a plank,

**Were you hunting a fox or just chasing a
duck?"

R is The Road that the faint-hearted choose

When the line crosses country where going
is risky:

And the Rot that they talk, as they sip their
Scotch Whiske}^

To prove it's not they, but their mounts that
refuse.

S is the Scent, none too pleasant to those

Who ride not to hounds; but at swift hunting
pace,

When the Right Sort detect it, how madly
they race;

They find it more sweet than the breath of a
rose.

T is for Thousands, the cost of our fun,

Also for the Thrusters and they are not few

Who send in a '*ten" when the season is
through

It pays for the timber they broke in one run.

U is for Us when united we fight

That the skirt called * 'divided" be worn by
the Fair;

If you've seen a dear girl with her boots in the
air

As she lands in a furrow, you'll say I am right.

V is the Viewpoint of those who are vexed,

By the Master's great promptness when they
ride up late;

^'Confounded old Martinet, couldn't he
wait?

Cast hounds by alarm clock, that's what he'll
do next/'

W stands for the Week-end so wet

We spent with our friend of a neighboring
hunt,

You could keep up with hounds if you went
in a *'punt"

But I need not tell you how far we did get.

X is for Crossroads and sign posts galore;

You shout the Bumpkin who's raking his hay,

* 'Which way went the pack?" and his "Well,
I can't say;

Ain't seen any peddlers!" is rather a hore.

Y stands for You who have stood for these
rhymes,

Who discern amid chafF shining kernels of
truth;

So the spirit of chivalry, valor and youth

Are found in the pleasures and sports of our
times.

Z is for Zero — our surplus, my dear,

When, after good sport with all damages paid.

We sit by the fire and say, "I'm afraid

There'll be no more runs till the Spring of the
year."

And here ends this vohime of A HUNTING ALPHABET,
by Grace Clarke Newton, of which 262 copies only have been
printed by Redfield-Kendrick-Odell Co., Inc., New York,
and the type distributed, in this year of our Lord one thou-
sand nine hundred and seventeen.

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