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,
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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