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, 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, And so he paced to Woodford Wells, And lo! within the crowded door, Here shall the Muse frame no excuse, * Alluding to the frontispiece. "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." So off they scampered, man and horse, But Huggins, hitching on a tree, Howbeit he tumbled down in time All in Fair Mead, which held that day 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 butchers' hacks, That shambled to and fro ! Bakers intent upon a buck, 'Twas strange to think what difference A single creature made; 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-though not For corpses in the least; For this contained the deer alive, And not the dear deceased! And now began a sudden stir, |