UBRAJtp 
 
 "WVERSlTy 
 o OF 
 
 nvrm 
 EU 
 

 
/£fr**^£^Z/ /'/?, trfsstz*^ 
 
 /^TT-/-^- /t&t- ////i s& Sy~ /-£^:^*i-~*£ - 
 
 J. /;,n~t- J?A~ ,..., yLj^' 
 
 ■ 
 
 *' Ss / Sty t .y . vX/' c-- 
 
 b 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/eppinghuntOOhoodrich 
 
"^^^ 
 
' Here shall the Muse frame no excuse, 
 
 But frame the man himself." — p. 13. 
 
 
EPPING HUNT. 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS HOOD, ESQ. 
 
 Author of " Whims and Oddities.'" 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH 
 
 SIX ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD, 
 
 BY 
 BRANSTON AND WRIGHT, BONNER, SLADER, AND T. WILLIAMS; 
 
 ®fttt tf)e IBestgns 
 
 OF 
 
 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 
 
 • Hunts Roasted" 
 
 LONDON: 
 CHARLES TILT, 86, FLEET STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXXIX. 
 
LONDON : 
 
 Printed by Anne Maurice, Fenchurch Street. 
 
<?5T3 
 W777 
 
 cLLb 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Striding in the Steps of Strutt — the historian o 
 the old English Sports — the author of the following 
 pages has endeavoured to record a yearly revel, already 
 fast hastening to decay. The Easter Chase will soon 
 be numbered with the pastimes of past times : its dogs 
 will have had their day, and its Deer will be Fallow. 
 A few more seasons, and this City Common Hunt will 
 become uncommon. 
 
 In proof of this melancholy decadence, the ensuing 
 epistle is inserted. It was penned by an underling at 
 the Wells, a person more accustomed to riding than 
 writing. 
 
 "Sir, 
 
 " About the Hunt. In anser to your Innqueries, their as been 
 a great falling off laterally, so much so this year that there was 
 nobody allmost. We did a mear nothing provisionally, hardly a 
 Bottle extra, wich is a proof in Pint. In short our Hunt may be 
 sad to be in the last Stag of a Decline. 
 
 " I am, Sir, 
 *' With respects from 
 
 " Your humble Servant, 
 
 " Bartholomew Rutt." 
 
 M601780 
 
EPPING HUNT. 
 
 • On Monday they began to hunt." 
 
 Chevy Chase. 
 
 John Huggins was as bold a man 
 
 As trade did ever know, 
 A warehouse good he had, that stood 
 
 Hard by the church of Bow. 
 
 There people bought Dutch cheeses round, 
 
 And single Glos'ter flat, — 
 And English butter in a lump, 
 
 And Irish — in a pat. 
 
 Six days a week beheld him stand, 
 
 His business next his heart, 
 At counter with his apron tied 
 
 About his counter-part. 
 
b THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 The seventh in a sluice-house box, 
 
 He took his pipe and pot ; 
 On Sundays for eel-piety, 
 
 A very noted spot. 
 
 Ah, blest if he had never gone 
 
 Beyond its rural shed! 
 One Easter-tide, some evil guide 
 
 Put Epping in his head ! 
 
 Epping for butter justly fam'd, 
 
 And pork in sausage pop't ; 
 Where winter time, or summer time, 
 
 Pig's flesh is always ckop't. 
 
 But famous more, as annals tell, 
 
 Because of Easter chase ; 
 There ev 'ry year, 'twixt dog and deer, 
 
 There is a gallant race. 
 
 With Monday's sun John Huggins rose, 
 
 And slapt his leather thigh, 
 And sang the burthen of the song, 
 
 " This day a stag must die." 
 
THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 For all the live-long day before, 
 
 And all the night in bed, 
 Like Beckford, he had nourish'd a Thoughts 
 
 On Hunting" in his head. 
 
 Of horn and morn, and hark and bark, 
 
 And echo's answering sounds, 
 All poets' wit hath every writ 
 
 In dog-rel verse of hounds. 
 
 Alas ! there was no warning voice 
 
 To whisper in his ear, 
 Thou art a fool in leaving Cheap 
 
 To go and hunt the deer ! 
 
 No thought he had of twisted spine, 
 
 Or broken arms or legs ; 
 Not chicken-hearted he, altho' 
 
 'Twas whisper'd of his eggs! 
 
 Ride out he would, and hunt he would, 
 
 Nor dreamt of ending ill ; 
 Mayhap with Dr. Ridout's fee, 
 
 And Surgeon Hunters bill. 
 
« THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 So he drew on his Sunday boots, 
 
 Of lustre superfine ; 
 The liquid black they wore that day, 
 
 Was Warren-ted to shine. 
 
 His yellow buckskins fitted close, 
 
 As once upon a stag ; 
 Thus well equipt he gaily skipt, 
 
 At once, upon his nag. 
 
 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 Huggin's 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, 
 
 Altho' it was a tit. 
 
THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 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 arts, 
 
 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. 
 
10 T«E EPPING HUNT. 
 
 Whereas the man had chang'd 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 J 
 
 A coward sure is he :" 
 Then Huggins turned his horse's head, 
 
 And crossed the bridge of Lea. 
 
 Thence slowly on thro' Laytonstone, 
 Past many a Quaker's box, — 
 
 No friends to hunters after deer, 
 Tho' followers of a Fox. 
 
 And many a score behind — before — 
 The self-same route inclin'd, 
 
 And minded all to march one way, 
 Made one great march of mind. 
 
THE EPPING HUNT. 11 
 
 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-ear'd 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 inclin'd to Hunt, 
 
 Betook themselves to Cob-it, 
 
 All sorts of vehicles and vans, 
 
 Bad, middling, and the smart ; 
 Here roll'd 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 slav'd for all the Nine ! 
 
12 THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 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 answers quite as blunt ; 
 
 " It will be time enough to trot, 
 When I begin to hunt ! 
 
 And so he paced to Woodford Wells, 
 Where many a horseman met, 
 
 And letting go the reins, of course, 
 Prepared for heavy wet. 
 
 And lo ! within the crowded door, 
 
 Stood Rounding, jovial elf; 
 Here shall the Muse frame no excuse, 
 
 But frame the man himself. 
 
THE EPPING HUNT. 13 
 
 A snow white head, a merry eye, 
 
 A cheek of jolly blush ; 
 A claret tint laid on by health, 
 
 With master reynard's brush; 
 
 A hearty frame, a courteous bow, 
 
 The prince he learn' d it from ; 
 His age about three-score and ten, 
 
 And there you have Old Tom. 
 
 In merriest key I trow was he, 
 
 So many guests to boast; 
 So certain congregations meet, 
 
 And elevate the host. 
 
 u Now welcome, lads," quoth he, " and prads, 
 
 You're all in glorious luck : 
 Old Robin has a run to-day, 
 
 A noted forest buck. 
 
 Fair Mead's the place, where Bob and Tom, 
 
 In red already ride ; 
 'Tis but a step,- and on a horse 
 
 You soon may go a stride." 
 
14 THE KPriNG HUNT. 
 
 So off they scamper 'd, man and horse, 
 As time and temper press'd ; — 
 
 But Huggins, hitching on a tree, 
 Branch' d off from all the rest. 
 
 Howbeit he tumbled down in time 
 To join with Tom and Bob, 
 
 All in Fair Mead, which held that day 
 Its own fair meed of mob. 
 
 Idlers to wit — no Guardians some, 
 
 Of Tattlers in a squeeze ; 
 Ramblers, in heavy carts and vans, 
 
 Spectators, up in trees. 
 
 Butchers on backs of butcher's hacks, 
 That shambled to and fro' ! 
 
 Bakers intent upon a buck, 
 Neglectful of the dough ! 
 
 Change Alley Bears to speculate, 
 
 As usual, for a fall ; 
 And green and scarlet runners, such 
 
 As never climb'd a wall ! 
 

THE EPPING HUNT. M> 
 
 'Twas strange to think what difference 
 
 A single creature made ; 
 A single stag had caused a whole 
 
 Stagnation in their trade. 
 
 Now Huggins from his saddle rose, 
 And in the stirrups stood ; 
 
 And lo ! a little cart that came 
 Hard by a little wood. 
 
 In shape like half a hearse,— tho' not 
 
 For corpses in the least ; 
 For this contained the deer alive, 
 
 And not the dear deceased I 
 
 And now began a sudden stir, 
 And then a sudden shout, 
 
 The prison-doors were opened wide, 
 And Robin bounded out ! 
 
 His antler'd head shone blue and red, 
 Bedeck' d with ribbons fine ; 
 
 Like other bucks that come to 'list 
 The hawbucks in the line. 
 
16 THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 One curious gaze of mild amaze, 
 He turn'd and shortly took : 
 
 Then gently ran adown the mead, 
 And bounded o'er the brook. 
 
 Now Huggins, standing far aloof, 
 
 Had never seen the deer, 
 Till all at once he saw the beast 
 
 Come charging in his rear. 
 
 Away he went, and many a score 
 
 Of riders did the same, 
 On horse and ass — like high and low 
 
 And Jack pursuing game ! 
 
 Good lord ! to see the riders now, 
 Thrown off with sudden whirl, 
 
 A score within the purling brook, 
 Enjoy'd their " early purl." 
 
 A score were sprawling on the grass, 
 And beavers fell in show'rs ; 
 
 There was another Floorer there, 
 Beside the Queen of Flowers ! 
 
m , :#!; 
 

THE EPPING HUNT. 17 
 
 Some lost their stirrups, some their whips 
 
 Some had no caps to show ; 
 But few, like Charles at Charing Cross, 
 
 Rode on in Statue quo. 
 
 " O, dear ! O, dear !" now might you hear, 
 
 " I've surely broke a bone ;** 
 " My head is sore," — with many more 
 
 Such speeches from the thrown. 
 
 Howbeit their wailings never mov'd 
 
 The wide satanic clan, 
 Who grinned, as once the devil grinn'd, 
 
 To see the fall of Man. 
 
 And hunters good, that understood, 
 
 Their laughter knew no bounds, 
 To see the horses u throwing off/' 
 
 So long before the hounds. 
 
 For deer must have due course of law, 
 
 Like men the Courts among; 
 Before those Barristers the dogs 
 
 Proceed to « giving tongue." 
 
18 THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 But now Old Robin s foes were set, 
 
 That fatal taint to find, 
 That always is scent after him, 
 
 Yet always left behind. 
 
 And here observe how dog and man 
 
 A different temper shows, 
 What hound resents that he is sent 
 
 To follow his own nose ? 
 
 Towler and Jowler — howlers all, 
 No single tongue was mute : 
 
 The stag had led a hart, and lo ! 
 The whole pack follow'd suit. 
 
 No spur he lack'd, fear stuck a knife 
 And fork in either haunch ; 
 
 And every dog he knew had got 
 An eye-tooth to his paunch ! 
 
 Away, away ! he scudded like 
 
 A ship before the gale ; 
 Now flew to u hills we know not of," 
 
 Now, nun-like, took the vale. 
 
THE EPPTNG HUNT. 19 
 
 Another squadron charging now, 
 
 Went off at furious pitch ; — - 
 A perfect Tarn o' Shanter mob, 
 
 Without a single witch. 
 
 But who was he with flying skirts, 
 
 A hunter did endorse, 
 And like a poet seem'd to ride 
 
 Upon a winged horse, 
 
 A whipper in ? no whipper in : 
 
 A huntsman ? no such soul : 
 A connoisseur, or amateur ? 
 
 Why yes, — a Horse Patrole. 
 
 A member of police, for whom 
 
 The county found a nag, 
 And, like Acteon in the tale, 
 
 He found himself in stag! 
 
 Away they went then dog and deer, 
 
 And hunters all away, — 
 The maddest horses never knew 
 
 Mad staggers such as they ! 
 
20 THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 Some gave a shout, some roll'd about, 
 And antick'd as they rode, 
 
 And butchers whistled on their curs, 
 And milkmen tally -hd d! 
 
 About two score there were, not more, 
 That gallopped in the race; 
 
 The rest, alas ! lay on the grass, 
 As once in Chevy Chase ! 
 
 But even those that gallopped on, 
 Were fewer every minute, — 
 
 The field kept getting more select, 
 Each thicket served to thin it. 
 
 For some pulled up, and left the hunt, 
 
 Some fell in miry bogs, 
 And vainly rose and ' s ran a muck," 
 
 To overtake the dogs. 
 
 And some, in charging hurdle stakes, 
 
 Were left bereft of sense, 
 What else could be premised of blades, 
 
 That never learn'd to fence ? 
 
THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 21 
 
 But Roundings, Tom and Bob, no gate, 
 Nor hedge nor ditch could stay; 
 
 O'er all they went, and did the work 
 Of leap years in a day ! 
 
 And by their side see Huggins ride, 
 
 As fast as he could speed ; 
 For, ]ike Mazeppa, he was quite 
 
 At mercy of his steed. 
 
 No means he had, by timely check, 
 
 The gallop to remit, 
 For firm and fast, between his teeth, 
 
 The biter held the bitt. 
 
 Trees raced along, all Essex fled 
 
 Beneath him as he sate, — 
 He never saw a county go 
 
 At such a county rate ! 
 
 ' ' Hold hard ! hold hard ! you'll lame the dogs : 
 
 Quoth Huggins, " so I do, — 
 I've got the saddle well in hand, 
 
 And hold as hard as you \" 
 
22 
 
 THE KPPING HUNT. 
 
 Good lord ! to see him ride along, 
 
 And throw his arms about, 
 As if with stitches in the side, 
 
 That he was drawing out ! 
 
 And now he bounded up and down, 
 
 Now like a jelly shook : 
 Till bump d and gall'd — yet not where Gall, 
 
 For bumps did ever look ! 
 
 And rowing with his legs the while, 
 
 As tars are apt to ride ; 
 With every kick he gave a prick, 
 
 Deep in the horse's side ! 
 
 But soon the horse was well avenged, 
 
 For cruel smart of spurs, 
 For, riding through a moor, he pitched 
 
 His master in a furze ! 
 
 Where sharper set than hunger is 
 
 He squatted all forlorn ; 
 And like a bird was singing out 
 
 While sitting on a thorn ! 
 
THE EPPING HUNT. 23 
 
 Right glad was he, as well as might be, 
 
 Such cushion to resign : 
 " Possession is nine points/' but his * 
 
 Seemed more than ninety-nine. 
 
 Yet worse than all the prickly points 
 
 That enter' d in his skin, 
 His nag was running off the while 
 
 The thorns were running in ! 
 
 Now" had a Papist seen his sport, 
 
 Thus laid upon the shelf, 
 Anno' no horse he had to cross, 
 
 He might have cross'd himself. 
 
 Yet surely still the wind is ill 
 
 That none can say is fair ; 
 A jolly wight there was, that rode 
 
 Upon a sorry mare ! 
 
 A sorry mare, that surely came 
 
 Of pagan blood and bone ; 
 For down upon her knees she went, 
 
 To many a stock and stone ! 
 
24 THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 Now seeing Huggins' nag adrift, 
 This farmer, shrewd and sage, 
 
 Resolv'd, by changing horses here, 
 To hunt another stage ! 
 
 Tho' felony, yet who would let 
 
 Another's horse alone, 
 Whose neck is placed in jeopardy 
 
 By riding on his own ? 
 
 And yet the conduct of the man 
 Seemed honest-like and fair ; 
 
 For he seem'd willing, horse and all, 
 To go before the mare t 
 
 So up on Huggins' horse he got, 
 
 And swiftly rode away, 
 While Huggins mounted on the mare 
 
 Done brown upon a bay ! 
 
 And off they set, in double chase, 
 For such was fortune's whim, 
 
 The Farmer rode to hunt the stag, 
 And Huggins hunted him ! 
 
THE EPPING HUNT. 25 
 
 Alas ! with one that rode so well 
 
 In vain it was to strive ; 
 A dab was he, as dabs should be — 
 
 All leaping and alive ! 
 
 And here of Nature's kindly care 
 
 Behold a curious proof, 
 As nags are meant to leap, she puts 
 
 A frog in every hoof! 
 
 Whereas the mare, altho' her share 
 
 She had of hoof and frog, 
 On coming to a gate stopp'd short 
 
 As stiff as any log; 
 
 Whilst Huggins in the stirrup stood 
 
 With neck like neck of crane, 
 As sings the Scottish song — u to see 
 
 The gate his hart had gane." 
 
 And, lo ! the dim and distant hunt 
 
 Diminish'd in a trice : 
 The steeds, like Cinderella's team, 
 
 SeenVd dwindling into mice ; 
 
 X> 
 
26 THE EPPING HUNT. 
 
 And, far remote, each scarlet coat 
 
 Soon flitted like a spark, — 
 Tho' still the forest murmur'd back 
 
 An echo of the bark ! 
 
 But sad at soul John Huggins turn'd : 
 
 No comfort he could find ; 
 Whilst thus the "Hunting Chorus*' sped 
 
 To stay five bars behind. 
 
 For tho' by dint of spur he got 
 
 A leap in spite of fate — 
 Howbeit there was no toll at all, 
 
 They could not clear the gate. 
 
 And, like Fitzjames, he cursed the hunt, 
 
 And sorely cursed the day, 
 And mused a new Gray's elegy 
 
 On his departed gray ! 
 
 Now many a sign at Woodford Town 
 
 Its Inn-vitation tells : 
 But Huggins, full of ills, of course 
 
 Betook him to the Wells, 
 
 
|S 
 
 

 
THE EPPING HUNT. 27 
 
 Where Rounding tried to cheer him up 
 
 With many a merry laugh : 
 But Huggins thought of neighbour Fig, 
 
 And call'd for half-and-half. 
 
 Yet, spite of drink, he could not blink 
 
 Remembrance of his loss ; 
 To drown a care like his, required 
 
 Enough to drown a horse. 
 
 When thus forlorn, a merry horn 
 
 Struck up without the door, — 
 The mounted mob were all return'd ; 
 
 The Epping Hunt was o'er ! 
 
 And many a horse was taken out 
 
 Of saddle, and of shaft ; 
 And men, by dint of drink, became 
 
 The only " beasts of draught. 1 * 
 
 For now begun a harder run 
 
 On wine, and gin, and beer ; 
 And overtaken men discuss'd 
 
 The overtaken deer. 
 
28 THE KPPING HUNT. 
 
 How far he ran, and eke how fast, 
 
 And how at bay he stood, 
 Deerlike, resolved to sell his life 
 
 As dearly as he could ; — 
 
 And how the hunters stood aloof, 
 
 Regardful of their lives, 
 And shunn'd a beast, whose very horns 
 
 They knew could handle knives ! 
 
 How Huggins stood when he was rubb'd 
 
 By help and ostler kind, 
 And when they cleaned the clay before, 
 
 How " worse remain'd behind." 
 
 And one, how he had found a horse 
 
 Adrift — a goodly gray! 
 And kindly rode the nag, for fear 
 
 The nag should go astray ; — 
 
 Now, Huggins, when he heard the tale, 
 Jump'd up with sudden glee ; 
 
 " A goodly gray ! why, then, I say 
 That gray belongs to me ! 
 
5 ! 
 
 w o 
 
 g * 
 
THE EPPING HUNT. 29 
 
 " Let me endorse again my horse, 
 
 Delivered safe and sound ; 
 And, gladly, I will give the man 
 
 A bottle and a pound Y* 
 
 The wine was drunk, — the money paid, 
 
 Tho' not without remorse, 
 To pay another man so much, 
 
 For riding on his horse ; — 
 
 And let the chase again take place 
 
 For many a long, long year — 
 John Huggins will not ride again 
 
 To hunt the Epping Deer ! 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Thus Pleasure oft eludes our grasp, 
 Just when we think to grip her ; 
 
 And hunting after Happiness, 
 We only hunt a slipper. 
 
 THE END. 
 
LONDON *. 
 
 Printed by Anne Maurice, Fenchurch Street. 
 
fc (pC? 
 
V tofZf 
 
 j<*V 
 
 0t 
 
 U 
 
<v