(By Charles Henry Lüders And S. D. S., Jr.)

“Hallo, my Fancy! View Hallo!” The nimble game has broken cover And skims the valley to and fro; By cooling brooks it seems to hover, Then bounds along. “Ho, View Hallo!” The huntsmen cry from brake to loch; The chase grows ardent--“View Hallo!” From quiet shelter echoes, Droch.