When foxes ran down wind and scent was catchy!
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nd that light lemon bitch of the Squire’s, oldDorcas,— She were a marvellous hunter, were old Dorcas! Ay, oft I’ve thought: “If there were hounds inHeaven, “With God as Master, taking no subscription; “And all His blessed country farmed by tenants; “And a straight-necked old fox in every gorse!” But when I came to work it out, I found There’d be too many huntsmen wanting places,—
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