The above is not necessarily a true story. It is a specimen of the
small-print news with which the rather young Assistant Sub-Editor
of _The Dullandshire Chronicle_ (established 1763) is permitted,
occasionally, to divert those of _The Chronicle's_ subscribers who
take an intelligent interest in continental affairs.
* * * * *
"You know the 'Tziganes,' don't you?--those marvellous
gentlemen in red coats with sleek dark singlets, exotic
complexions, and bold, rolling black eyes."--_Sunday
Chronicle_.
Strictly speaking, singlets, of whatever colour, should be worn
_under_ the coat.
* * * * *
THE HUNTSMAN'S STORY.
I heard the huntsman calling as he drew Threeacre Spinney;
He found a fox and hunted him and handled him ere night,
And his voice upon the hill-side was as golden as a guinea,
And I ventured he'd done nicely--most respectful and polite--
Jig-jogging back to kennels, and the stars were shining bright.
Old Jezebel and Jealous they were trotting at his stirrup;
The road was clear, the moon was up, 'twas but a mile or so;
He got the pack behind him with a chirp and with a chirrup,
And said he, "I had the secret from my gran'dad long ago,
And all the old man left me, Sir, if you should want to know.
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