Of Legacy-hunting The Fifth Satire of the Second Book of Horace imitated. A Dialogue between Sir Walter Raleigh, and Merlin the Prophet [by George Ogle] |
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 | Of Legacy-hunting |  |
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OF LEGACY-HUNTING.
The Fifth Satire of the Second Book of Horace imitated.
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN Sir Walter Raleigh, and Merlin the Prophet.
Sir Walter Raleigh.Indulge this Favor, Merlin, and impart,
As once before, the Secrets of thy Art.
Teach me the Means my Losses to repair—
But why that Smile?—'Tis no such trivial Care.
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Is't not enough, that rescued from the Main,
You tread your native Soil? The Land of Gain!
Here, can you fail, your Coffers to refill?
A Man of your Accomplishment and Skill!
Sir W. R.
Unerring Seer! My wretched State behold,
Distress'd, abandon'd, just as you foretold.
My Country claim'd my Studies and my Toils;
And late Posterity shall reap the Spoils.
Yet see me plunder'd by rapacious Hands,
Of Furniture, of Stock, of Houses, Lands.
And, What is Virtue, Valor, Genius, Race,
What better, without Wealth, than tarnish'd Lace?
Mer.
Well! Poverty you dread without Disguise,
Then listen, where the Road to Fortune lies.
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Send it your old rich Neighbour; pass it there.
If Grape or Melon your small Garden yields,
If Hare or Partridge traverses your Fields,
Quick let them follow; thus begin to hoard,
A surer Way, than Lending to the Lord!
Payments of Heav'n come late. Nor think it odd—
Still offer to the Rich, before thy God.
If but his Bags are equal to his Years,
No Matter, tho' the Pillory claim his Ears;
His guilty Hand, tho' distant India plead,
Skill'd in all Poisons of the learned Mead;
Tho' basely got, and yet more basely bred;
Tho' Tyburn stands defrauded of his Head;
No Matter! at his Beck, sit, walk, or stand,
And be the outward 'Squire of his Left Hand.
Sir W. R.
I, meanly stoop to ev'ry Fool or Knave;
Wont to oppose the Great, and check the Brave!
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With Cecil, Essex, when Eliza reign'd.
Mer.
Oh! if this Task, too haughty to endure,
'Tis in your Choice, live honorably poor!
Sir W. R.
Well! I will curb the Soul within my Breast,
And bear this Hardship as I bore the rest.
But say, O Merlin, say, my best Divine,
Where, quickly, may I raise this golden Mine?
Mer.
Know (to begin again where I began)
The Man of Policy should prey on Man.
The Shoal of Batchelors with glitt'ring Gills
Observe, and slily angle at their Wills.
Tho' one, or two, of penetrating Look,
May nibble at the Bait, and fly the Hook;
Quit not thy Hope, nor of thy Art despair,
Others shall swallow down a Length of Hair.
The Man of Policy should prey on Man.
The Shoal of Batchelors with glitt'ring Gills
Observe, and slily angle at their Wills.
Tho' one, or two, of penetrating Look,
May nibble at the Bait, and fly the Hook;
Quit not thy Hope, nor of thy Art despair,
Others shall swallow down a Length of Hair.
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Frequent the Courts, Prerogative and Hall;
Inquire, “What Cause has Clerk?” What Plea has Paul?
“Who are the Parties? When the Merit's try'd?”
And list you on the beneficial Side.
If one be rich, and rich without an Heir,
Advance thy genuin Proof, and boldly swear.
Mind not or whence, or what be the Dispute,
Tho' some litigious Villain rais'd the Suit;
No Favor let the injur'd Party claim,
Tho' Man of Probity, tho' Man of Fame;
Thy Care he forfeits by his Choice of Life;
If he has healthy Child, or breeding Wife.
Inquire, “What Cause has Clerk?” What Plea has Paul?
“Who are the Parties? When the Merit's try'd?”
And list you on the beneficial Side.
If one be rich, and rich without an Heir,
Advance thy genuin Proof, and boldly swear.
Mind not or whence, or what be the Dispute,
Tho' some litigious Villain rais'd the Suit;
No Favor let the injur'd Party claim,
Tho' Man of Probity, tho' Man of Fame;
Thy Care he forfeits by his Choice of Life;
If he has healthy Child, or breeding Wife.
This done; proceed your Service to inforce,
And oil his tender Ear with soft Discourse.
Never direct to Master, but to 'Squire,
For what we want the most, we most admire.
Now call him, my sweet Sir, now, good my Lord,
But let your Honour be the plainest Word.
For Compliments, tho' blunder'd or misplac'd,
Like high-forc'd Sauces, please the vitious Taste.
He'll never see your indirecter View,
And, tho' he has no Title, 'tis his Due.
And oil his tender Ear with soft Discourse.
Never direct to Master, but to 'Squire,
For what we want the most, we most admire.
Now call him, my sweet Sir, now, good my Lord,
But let your Honour be the plainest Word.
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Like high-forc'd Sauces, please the vitious Taste.
He'll never see your indirecter View,
And, tho' he has no Title, 'tis his Due.
Then warmly swear, or solemnly protest,
“Cou'd your Eyes penetrate my naked Breast,
“There you might read these Characters engrav'd,
“That, by your Virtues I am bound! inslav'd!
“I know the double Windings of the Laws,
“No Man alive can better serve your Cause;
“Leave it, Dear Sir, but leave it to my Care,
“I'd lose both Eyes, e're you should lose a Hair;
“E're you shou'd prove at last the publick Sport,
“Or stand the Loss of being cast in Court.
“No Sir! Enjoy your Pleasure, and your Wealth,
“Go Home, and take your Ease; and mind your Health!”
“Cou'd your Eyes penetrate my naked Breast,
“There you might read these Characters engrav'd,
“That, by your Virtues I am bound! inslav'd!
“I know the double Windings of the Laws,
“No Man alive can better serve your Cause;
“Leave it, Dear Sir, but leave it to my Care,
“I'd lose both Eyes, e're you should lose a Hair;
“E're you shou'd prove at last the publick Sport,
“Or stand the Loss of being cast in Court.
“No Sir! Enjoy your Pleasure, and your Wealth,
“Go Home, and take your Ease; and mind your Health!”
Be his Solicitor! and ride or run!
Freeze! sweat! thro' Winter Frost, or Summer Sun!
Tho' Fustian ev'ry infant Statue fries,
“And rubicunds the Dogstar of the Skies;”
Or, fat Sylvester, “bribbles up the Floods,
“And perriwigs with Snow the Bald-pate woods.”
Freeze! sweat! thro' Winter Frost, or Summer Sun!
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“And rubicunds the Dogstar of the Skies;”
Or, fat Sylvester, “bribbles up the Floods,
“And perriwigs with Snow the Bald-pate woods.”
Your Industry, the World will soon perceive,
And one shall pluck his Neighbour by the Sleeve,
And cry, “Observe! How closely he attends!
“Was ever Man so useful to his Friends?
“What Weight in his last Evidence, what Art?
“And then how warm? He has the Cause at Heart.”
By this, new Reputation you will get;
And larger Gudgeons crowd to fill your Net.
And one shall pluck his Neighbour by the Sleeve,
And cry, “Observe! How closely he attends!
“Was ever Man so useful to his Friends?
“What Weight in his last Evidence, what Art?
“And then how warm? He has the Cause at Heart.”
By this, new Reputation you will get;
And larger Gudgeons crowd to fill your Net.
Yet the same beaten Path not always run;
Try some old Father of one sickly Son.
Lest your Pursuit of Batchelors get vent,
And you grow noted as the Priest on Trent.
Slow, as obsequious, yet as sure as slow,
Thro' all Degrees of his Devises go;
Till, after his weak Boy, and Issue Male,
At last he names you, second in Intail;
Then when the Youth (no doubt) shall run his Race,
With easy Slide you fill his vacant Place:
Millions have profited by this Device;
There is no surer Cast in all the Dice!
Try some old Father of one sickly Son.
Lest your Pursuit of Batchelors get vent,
And you grow noted as the Priest on Trent.
Slow, as obsequious, yet as sure as slow,
Thro' all Degrees of his Devises go;
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At last he names you, second in Intail;
Then when the Youth (no doubt) shall run his Race,
With easy Slide you fill his vacant Place:
Millions have profited by this Device;
There is no surer Cast in all the Dice!
If any Dotard, where these Arts succeed,
Gives his last Will and Testament to read;
To read the Notice of his Death, deny!
Yet course it with the Corner of an Eye!
Mark the Round Letters, the Proviso Lines;
Three Looks will certify what he enjoins;
If common, or particular his Care;
Whether he leaves you joint, or single Heir.
Let this be acted with a passive Hand;
And ev'ry Muscle of your Face command.
Gives his last Will and Testament to read;
To read the Notice of his Death, deny!
Yet course it with the Corner of an Eye!
Mark the Round Letters, the Proviso Lines;
Three Looks will certify what he enjoins;
If common, or particular his Care;
Whether he leaves you joint, or single Heir.
Let this be acted with a passive Hand;
And ev'ry Muscle of your Face command.
Yet to Newcastle let not Coals be brought;
For sometimes too the Fisher has been caught.
And, to this Point, if Prophesy take Place,
A Priest and Scribe shall stand a noted Case;
For 'tis determin'd, in the Courts below,
That the sly Fox shall bob the gaping Crow.
For sometimes too the Fisher has been caught.
And, to this Point, if Prophesy take Place,
A Priest and Scribe shall stand a noted Case;
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That the sly Fox shall bob the gaping Crow.
Sir W. R.
What Frenzy breathes this supernat'ral Rage?
Con you the Lesson of some mystic Page?
Or sport in Words too dark to understand?
Say, mighty Master of th'illusive Wand!
Mer.
Illustrious Knight, I read the Books of Fate;
Of old what fell, and what shall follow late.
All Heav'n, all Hell lies open to my View,
And Satan, thro' the Lab'rynth, lends the Clue.
Sir W. R.
Then, if allow'd, expound this strange Event;
Say, what your last obscure Prediction meant.
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Two Knaves shall rise (when second George shall reign,
And equal Peace restore to Land and Main)
Long known beneath one servile Yoke to draw,
This, to the Gospel bred, and That, the Law.
True Pains the Priest to Fortune shall advance,
Yet will he swear “It was the Work of Chance!”
Th'assisting Scribe, his Favor to secure,
Shall with his only Daughter bait the Lure;
And, with her broad-brim'd Spark, behold her Billing,
Who not to save their Souls wou'd risque a Shilling.
His worthy Son (his Son the spurious Way)
Shall thus in Time the Principal repay.
A Will he makes, and bids his Sire peruse;
“Sir (says the Scribe) permit me to refuse.”—
“Nay read (with Warmth the pious Priest conjures)
“Read! but what Legacy to You and Yours.”
Silent, he reads. No Legacy appears;
Nothing to him or his, but Sighs and Tears.
And equal Peace restore to Land and Main)
Long known beneath one servile Yoke to draw,
This, to the Gospel bred, and That, the Law.
True Pains the Priest to Fortune shall advance,
Yet will he swear “It was the Work of Chance!”
Th'assisting Scribe, his Favor to secure,
Shall with his only Daughter bait the Lure;
And, with her broad-brim'd Spark, behold her Billing,
Who not to save their Souls wou'd risque a Shilling.
His worthy Son (his Son the spurious Way)
Shall thus in Time the Principal repay.
A Will he makes, and bids his Sire peruse;
“Sir (says the Scribe) permit me to refuse.”—
“Nay read (with Warmth the pious Priest conjures)
“Read! but what Legacy to You and Yours.”
Silent, he reads. No Legacy appears;
Nothing to him or his, but Sighs and Tears.
'Tis the last Scandal to be thus betray'd,
Hence, wisely shun a Brother of the Blade.
Hence, wisely shun a Brother of the Blade.
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Have you digested what was giv'n before?
Then to the former add one Precept more.
Observe the Servants of thy Friend decay'd,
The leading Footman, or the fav'rite Maid;
Court all or any of the menial Crew,
If they but know the Measure of his Shoe;
Her Honesty, his Diligence commend,
And florish on these Topics, while they tend.
Their Int'rest serv'd, your Int'rest they will raise,
And, in your Absence, pay you Praise for Praise.
Then to the former add one Precept more.
Observe the Servants of thy Friend decay'd,
The leading Footman, or the fav'rite Maid;
Court all or any of the menial Crew,
If they but know the Measure of his Shoe;
Her Honesty, his Diligence commend,
And florish on these Topics, while they tend.
Their Int'rest serv'd, your Int'rest they will raise,
And, in your Absence, pay you Praise for Praise.
'Tis something, Inch by Inch to gain your Ground,
And win the Outworks which the Fort surround;
With Safety hence your Forces may be led,
But let your strong Attack be at the Head.
Discover where his ruling Foible lies,
And how, and when to enter by Surprise.
Loves he his own dull Verses to repeat,
That creep or hobble on unequal Feet;
Admire their Flow! Be lavish of thy Tropes!
Swear they transcend all Dryden's, and all Pope's!
If to Intrigue his Inclination turns;
Then watch the Crisis when the Fever burns.
Wait not his Asking. No, his Wish prevent,
And be thy own lov'd Raleigh freely lent.
And win the Outworks which the Fort surround;
With Safety hence your Forces may be led,
But let your strong Attack be at the Head.
Discover where his ruling Foible lies,
And how, and when to enter by Surprise.
Loves he his own dull Verses to repeat,
That creep or hobble on unequal Feet;
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Swear they transcend all Dryden's, and all Pope's!
If to Intrigue his Inclination turns;
Then watch the Crisis when the Fever burns.
Wait not his Asking. No, his Wish prevent,
And be thy own lov'd Raleigh freely lent.
Sir W. R.
Raleigh! Of virtuous Wives the standing Rule!
Turn Prostitute to ev'ry Knave or Fool!
Who to her Lord, in other Worlds detain'd,
For Years inviolable Faith maintain'd;
And, when return'd he felt the Hands of Power,
Greatly forsook the Palace for the Tower!
Mer.
Those were rude Manners of Eliza's Age,
E're Youths yet learn'd with Presents to engage.
When Lovers, who to widow'd Wives drew near,
Sought little Venery, but much good Chear;
Unknown, the Party square, or private Treat:
Their Bent, not half so strong to court, as eat.
Hence mere Oeconomy, averse to Waste,
First made her frugal, and then kept her chaste.
But had she tasted once the rich and old,
Who what they fail in Love supply in Gold;
Raleigh herself had never left the Scent,
And you, to share the Prey, had liv'd content.
Staunch as a Hound new-blooded to the Sport,
Ev'n she had drove the Chace thro' Town and Court;
Where many a Wife of Industry adorns
Her patient Knight or Peer, with gilded Horns.
E're Youths yet learn'd with Presents to engage.
When Lovers, who to widow'd Wives drew near,
Sought little Venery, but much good Chear;
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Their Bent, not half so strong to court, as eat.
Hence mere Oeconomy, averse to Waste,
First made her frugal, and then kept her chaste.
But had she tasted once the rich and old,
Who what they fail in Love supply in Gold;
Raleigh herself had never left the Scent,
And you, to share the Prey, had liv'd content.
Staunch as a Hound new-blooded to the Sport,
Ev'n she had drove the Chace thro' Town and Court;
Where many a Wife of Industry adorns
Her patient Knight or Peer, with gilded Horns.
And now this cautionary Story hear,
What chanc'd of old, no matter in what Year;
Yet I remember, for the Fact I know,
'Twas e're I left this World for that below.
What chanc'd of old, no matter in what Year;
Yet I remember, for the Fact I know,
'Twas e're I left this World for that below.
A Goody, then of Newark, and a Jade,
Thus by her Will expos'd the fawning Trade.
In equal Shares her Substance she divides,
And, one by one, for all her Kin provides.
Then leaves her Friend residuary Heir,
Her Friend! who watch'd her with true Zeal and Care!
Yet wills, that as Chief-mourner he shou'd stand,
And hold a slipp'ry Eel in either Hand;
To mark by that ridiculous Bequeath,
That she had slipp'd his Fingers at her Death:
Tho', to the Scandal of the good old Wife,
He never quitted Quarters during Life.
Thus by her Will expos'd the fawning Trade.
In equal Shares her Substance she divides,
And, one by one, for all her Kin provides.
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Her Friend! who watch'd her with true Zeal and Care!
Yet wills, that as Chief-mourner he shou'd stand,
And hold a slipp'ry Eel in either Hand;
To mark by that ridiculous Bequeath,
That she had slipp'd his Fingers at her Death:
Tho', to the Scandal of the good old Wife,
He never quitted Quarters during Life.
Be you more circumspect in your Address,
Nor keep too distant, nor too forward press.
The peevish and morose dislike and hate
The Man with never-ceasing Need of Prate;
Yet, on occasion, be not dumb too long,
But slily slip the Bridle from your Tongue.
Observe the Times, to say, and not to say;
Attend, like sly Sir Gravity in the Play,
With Look obsequious, fearful to offend,
Nor to be wiser than himself pretend.
This strict Observance cannot fail to please,
Rise on him in Respect by just Degrees.
Then of his Health let ev'ry Care be shown,
His Health to you far dearer than your own.
If chance, for Air o'er Hampstead-heath you pass,
Warn him to use his Hat, and lift the Glass.
These very Words, “Dear Sir, the Wind's at East,”
To a good Vic'rage rais'd a worthless Priest.
If he be talkative, attentive hear,
And pawn your Soul to listen at your Ear.
Nay, watch the teeming Nonsense e're it breaks,
And look a full Assent before he speaks.
If he be vain, be wanton in his Praise,
His Sense, Wit, Knowledge, and Discernment, raise;
Till both his Hands the Gates of Flatt'ry touch,
And he cries, “Oh! my Friend! enough! too-much!”
Nor keep too distant, nor too forward press.
The peevish and morose dislike and hate
The Man with never-ceasing Need of Prate;
Yet, on occasion, be not dumb too long,
But slily slip the Bridle from your Tongue.
Observe the Times, to say, and not to say;
Attend, like sly Sir Gravity in the Play,
With Look obsequious, fearful to offend,
Nor to be wiser than himself pretend.
This strict Observance cannot fail to please,
Rise on him in Respect by just Degrees.
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His Health to you far dearer than your own.
If chance, for Air o'er Hampstead-heath you pass,
Warn him to use his Hat, and lift the Glass.
These very Words, “Dear Sir, the Wind's at East,”
To a good Vic'rage rais'd a worthless Priest.
If he be talkative, attentive hear,
And pawn your Soul to listen at your Ear.
Nay, watch the teeming Nonsense e're it breaks,
And look a full Assent before he speaks.
If he be vain, be wanton in his Praise,
His Sense, Wit, Knowledge, and Discernment, raise;
Till both his Hands the Gates of Flatt'ry touch,
And he cries, “Oh! my Friend! enough! too-much!”
But when the End of all thy Cares appears,
Thy long Servility of Hopes and Fears;
When the brib'd Lawyer lodges in thy Hands,
To Raleigh, Half of all my Goods and Lands—
Then, broad awake, his hapless Death deplore,
And cry, with Budgel, “Is he then no more?”
Or, in a later Strain, “where shall I find
“A Friend so good, so singularly kind!”
Then, all the Pow'r of Artifice imploy,
To mask the Countenance discov'ring Joy;
And, if 'tis possible to drive so near,
Stop the broad Grin, and squeeze a little Tear.
Thy long Servility of Hopes and Fears;
When the brib'd Lawyer lodges in thy Hands,
To Raleigh, Half of all my Goods and Lands—
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And cry, with Budgel, “Is he then no more?”
Or, in a later Strain, “where shall I find
“A Friend so good, so singularly kind!”
Then, all the Pow'r of Artifice imploy,
To mask the Countenance discov'ring Joy;
And, if 'tis possible to drive so near,
Stop the broad Grin, and squeeze a little Tear.
Is the last Charge committed to thy Care?
Tho', in thy Soul a Miser, nothing spare.
On the best feather'd Undertaker fix;
Let his Hearse lead the Twentieth Coach-and-Six.
Let Fifty, on a Side, the sable Bands
Attend, with golden Truncheons in their Hands.
Let not his House the signal Hatchment lack,
Put ev'ry Servant, to the Boy, in black.
Black, as his Will, let mourning Rings be sent
To all his Friends, to his next Heirs present.
This Generosity shall blaze thee forth,
And the World own, you are a Man of Worth.
Tho', in thy Soul a Miser, nothing spare.
On the best feather'd Undertaker fix;
Let his Hearse lead the Twentieth Coach-and-Six.
Let Fifty, on a Side, the sable Bands
Attend, with golden Truncheons in their Hands.
Let not his House the signal Hatchment lack,
Put ev'ry Servant, to the Boy, in black.
Black, as his Will, let mourning Rings be sent
To all his Friends, to his next Heirs present.
This Generosity shall blaze thee forth,
And the World own, you are a Man of Worth.
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One Caution more e're yet you leave the Stage,
Is your Co-partner more advanc'd in Age?
Plagued with a Cough, or dry comsumptive Wheeze?
Marks him for Death some slow but sure Disease?
Offer the Lodge not far from Lincoln Down;
“'Tis yours for one conditionary Crown;
“My Lawyer shall release it without Fees;
“Or take the Welch Estate, or what you please.”
Is your Co-partner more advanc'd in Age?
Plagued with a Cough, or dry comsumptive Wheeze?
Marks him for Death some slow but sure Disease?
Offer the Lodge not far from Lincoln Down;
“'Tis yours for one conditionary Crown;
“My Lawyer shall release it without Fees;
“Or take the Welch Estate, or what you please.”
But hold! Adieu! I hear th'infernal Bell;
Imperious Satan calls me back to Hell.
We sit in Council there on Markham's Will—
Observe these Maxims, and be wealthy still.
Imperious Satan calls me back to Hell.
We sit in Council there on Markham's Will—
Observe these Maxims, and be wealthy still.
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To a Successful Legacy-Hunter, much afraid of being stabb'd in a Chariot.
Intiger vitæ, scelerisque purus
Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec atcu, &c.
Hor.
Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec atcu, &c.
Hor.
Whence all this Fear? Whence all this Strife?—
The Man of strict, unblemish'd Life,
Whose Thoughts all sordid Views disdain,
The Man of Virtue, pure from Stain,
Whose Hands reject flagitious Deeds,
No Guard of Gun or Pistol needs.
Drags he thro' Lincoln-Fens, or scales
The more than Alpine Hills of Wales;
Roams he where Trent with many a Maze,
Thro' many a Golden Valley strays;
Takes Hounslow-heath, or Shooter-hill,
Still is he calm, and happy still.
The Man of strict, unblemish'd Life,
Whose Thoughts all sordid Views disdain,
The Man of Virtue, pure from Stain,
Whose Hands reject flagitious Deeds,
No Guard of Gun or Pistol needs.
Drags he thro' Lincoln-Fens, or scales
The more than Alpine Hills of Wales;
Roams he where Trent with many a Maze,
Thro' many a Golden Valley strays;
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Still is he calm, and happy still.
Safe in his Chariot (safe from Guilt)
He starts not at the glitt'ring Hilt;
Nor, dogg'd in Fancy, thro' the Streets,
Ten thousand grim Assassins meets;
Nor images, with gastly stare,
All Shapes of Horror and Despair;
All Forms of Danger, and of Death;
Nor bids his Slaves, with fault'ring Breath,
“Plant Arms, my Friends, at either Door!
“Plant Arms behind! Plant Arms before!
He starts not at the glitt'ring Hilt;
Nor, dogg'd in Fancy, thro' the Streets,
Ten thousand grim Assassins meets;
Nor images, with gastly stare,
All Shapes of Horror and Despair;
All Forms of Danger, and of Death;
Nor bids his Slaves, with fault'ring Breath,
“Plant Arms, my Friends, at either Door!
“Plant Arms behind! Plant Arms before!
Oh, Fuscus, dare but to be just!
Dare to be faithful to thy Trust!
Then, and then only, shalt thou find
The Safety of an honest Mind!
Then, shalt thou feel, beyond Pretence,
That Virtue is the best Defence!
'Tis not the Youth's ingenuous Pride;
'Tis not the Weapon by his Side,
That moves thy Fear, that breaks thy Rest;
No! 'tis the Dagger in thy Breast.—
'Tis—as by Swift divinely told,
(Words! worthy Characters of Gold!)
'Tis—“That the conscious Villain feels,
“Slow Vengeance, like a Bloodhound, at his Heels.”
Dare to be faithful to thy Trust!
Then, and then only, shalt thou find
The Safety of an honest Mind!
Then, shalt thou feel, beyond Pretence,
That Virtue is the best Defence!
'Tis not the Youth's ingenuous Pride;
'Tis not the Weapon by his Side,
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No! 'tis the Dagger in thy Breast.—
'Tis—as by Swift divinely told,
(Words! worthy Characters of Gold!)
'Tis—“That the conscious Villain feels,
“Slow Vengeance, like a Bloodhound, at his Heels.”
FINIS.
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