s of woe,[27] and such-like miseries."

[Footnote 27: "Blanquette de veau."]

"I hates their 'orse douvers (hors-d'oeuvres), their rots, and their
poisons (poissons); 'ord rot 'em, they near killed me, and right glad am
I to get a glass of old British black strap. And talking of black strap,
gentlemen, I call on old Crane, the man what supplies it, to tip us
a song. So now I'm finished--and you, Crane, lap up your liquor and
begin!" (applause).

Crane was shy--unused to sing in company--nevertheless, if it was
the wish of the party, and if it would oblige his good customer, Mr.
Jorrocks, he would try his hand at a stave or two made in honour of the
immortal Surrey. Having emptied his glass and cleared his windpipe,
Crane commenced:

"Here's a health to them that can ride!
Here's a health to them that can ride!
And those that don't wish good luck to the cause.
May they roast by their own fireside!
It's good to drown care in the chase,
It's good to drown care in the bowl.
It's good to support Daniel Haigh and his hounds,
Here's his health from the depth of my soul."

CHORUS

"Hurrah for the loud tally-ho!
Hurrah for the loud tally-ho!
It's good to support Daniel Haigh and his hounds.
And echo the shrill tally-ho!"

"Here's a health to them that can ride!
Here's a health to them that ride bold!
May the leaps and the dangers that each has defied,
In columns of sporting be told!
Here's freedom to him that would walk!
Here's freedom to him that would ride!
There's none ever feared that the horn should be heard
Who the joys of the chase ever tried."

"Hurrah for the loud tally-ho!
Hurrah for the loud tally-ho!
It's good to support Daniel Haigh and his hounds,
And halloo the loud tally-ho!"

"Beautiful! beautiful!" exclaimed Jorrocks, clapping his hands and
stamping as Crane had ceased.

"A werry good song, and it's werry well sung.
Jolly companions every one!"

"Gentlemen, pray charge your glasses--there's one toast we must drink in
a bumper if we ne'er take a bumper again. Mr. Spiers, pray charge your
glass--Mr. Stubbs, vy don't you fill up?--Mr. Nimrod, off with your 'eel
taps, pray--I'll give ye the 'Surrey 'Unt,' with all my 'art and soul.
Crane, my boy, here's your werry good health, and thanks for your song!"
(All drink the Surrey Hunt and Crane's good health, with applause, which
brings him on his legs with the following speech):

"Gentlemen,