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SOMETHING TO ADORE; OR, THE HARE AND HOUNDS CHASE.

This was too much, and I departed. The first thing I met was the outside door: it was a Grays door. I had a spite against that door, and I plunged into it. As I did so, there was a dull thud on the steps below, and a paper fluttered into my hands. I cannot be responsible for its contents. It is a specimen of a too familiar type.

"INTERVIEWS ON THE HARE AND HOUNDS CHASE."Your reporter first called on Prof. Epol Rabnud (the Dhin), who, in his usual chipper style, said: 'You see, sir, it is a most unexampled case of profit and loss. If you win, you receive an H. A. A. cup! And when you lose all, you only lose a scent!' At this juncture the learned gentleman fell asleep, and your interviewer was obliged to withdraw.

"The author of 'the Camabryge Tales' delivered himself as follows:-

"A bolde reportere trewely are ye highte,

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If to the Boston Herauld you are plighte.

Ther wer on a harre and Houndie chasse this daye,

A ful trew score of felawes make their waye:

And ful limbere were they, as ye are ware

Afore they wenten after these two harre,

But now they walken lik a bold Bummere,

For well their general style ye knowe here;

To them, the Hed-Waitere is no-thinge,

Doun colder have they got the Harvaurd swinge.

Now in schorte hande limne the tale I've saidde

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