how the automatic and non-fatiguing use of it alone makes the “strong”
rider, and is half the battle in keeping to hounds, check-mating
refusers, ensuring a perfect bridling of the horse and getting the
uttermost jump out of him at a fence, then let him finish his education,
which, by the way, never is finished, by riding a well-bred slug for a
whole season on the top of hounds.

The remaining postulates more or less speak for themselves. They are all
part of a whole, for it is hard to believe, if a man is to go in unison
with his horse, that he can divide his equestrian body into parts. Hands
and seats, as the writer understands hands and seats, are one, if horse
and rider are to be one.

Take, however, No. 14. What is the chief mechanical fault that lies at
the bottom of bad and second-rate horsemanship, the mechanical
foundation upon which all the subtleties of horsemanship rear their
intricate selves? Unquestionably too long a stirrup. This is the common
fault, every potentiality is nullified by it. It is a fatal bar to
riding, but, alas, its cure does not necessarily mean horsemanship. It
is easy to shorten the stirrup. It is far harder to acquire flexibility;
but with too long a stirrup real riding pliability and the hands that
accompany it are unattainable. Every good rider must remember the time
when he rode with too long a stirrup. He must remember, too, how the
gradual shortening was followed by an immediate improvement in his
riding, and the greater enjoyment thereof.

Probably he went to the other extreme and used too short a stirrup, and
nearly, or perhaps quite, lost his seat.

Now, how is the rider to find a proper length of stirrup? Not, it is
quite certain, by an absurd comparative measuring of legs and arms;
individual proportions differ. No, it is a matter of experience. It is
certain at first to be overdone, or underdone, but there comes a time
when a rider can attune his stirrups, according to the difference in the
width of horse or size of saddle he bestrides, with automatic readiness.

Now the first sensation of a rider who has been riding too long is that
he is now riding too short, and it requires a great deal of firm
persuasion on the teacher’s part, and docility on the pupil’s part, to
keep him at the proper length.

Now, why does he feel too short and insecure when his double may be
rejoicing in the security of the same seat? In the first place, with too
long a stirrup he has been relying unduly on their support for his
balance. He has also, to negative the action of the horse, been rising
far too strongly on them. Now let him watch first-class riders. He will
notice that they rise but little in their stirrups, the motion of the
horse is mainly taken in an easy motion of the loins and shoulders; and,
owing to the fact that they are _sitting on_ the horse and not
_standing_ in too long a stirrup, they show but little daylight, and
their feet are not dangling toe downwards for a support a good seat does
not require.

Let the young rider, then, shorten his stirrups and sit down on his
horse. He will gain the rudiments of balance without as yet much grip.
For some time he may feel bumpy, insecure—in short, like a man who is
trying to float on his back for the first time.

Still it is the only way to acquire the flexible body, and lose the
yearning for excessive stirrups. The mere fact that he will at first
still sit too much over his shortened stirrups and will try to rise on
them as of old, will tend to raise him out of the saddle and give a
great sense of insecurity. To lessen this unpleasant feeling, he must
for self-protection sit further back, when he will shortly find a
balance, this time founded on a real seat. The knees will find
themselves where they grip the best. The new position is also in that
spot which is best calculated to set up that rhythmic ease of body which
not only means hands, but by taking up the motion of the horse reduces
rising in the stirrups to a minimum. This will leave the actual seat
undisturbed—free to grip, to sit easy, what it will.

It stands to reason the motion of the horse must be transmitted to its
rider, but it must not be transmitted to the gripping machinery nor the
seat. It must be transmitted to that part of the body best built to bear
it, namely, the loins and sliding shoulder blades, which act as springs,
buffers, or cushions. It is possible, of course, and in bare-back riding
essential, for the loins and shoulder blades to take all the motion and
the stirrups none. But the stirrups are there for reasonable assistance
only; they are aids, not necessities.

We know if a loose marble was placed against the end of a fixed iron
rod, and the other end of the rod was smartly tapped, that the marble
would move. In the same way, if we substitute the action of the horse
for the tap and the immovable iron bar for the rider’s grip, we shall
find in the lively marble the pliable loins and shoulders of a good
rider, which are far more seat than that part of the rider which is in
actual contact with the horse.

The foregoing, then, is the secret of a firm seat and an easy one. From
such a seat spring fine hands, long reins, and the whole bag of subtle
tricks, which are otherwise, to mix one’s metaphors, a closed book. In
the above it should have been said that it is taken for granted the
rider rides “home” in the stirrup. Few real horsemen ride otherwise,
except in hacking. Using the stirrup in a limited degree, they prefer to
have it where it requires no attention, and is not liable to be lost. It
would mean a hole longer in the leathers, and of course a rider can ride
that way. But where a rider says he rides thus for the sake of the
spring it is a confession at once of too long a stirrup and inferior
riding. He is dependent on his stirrup a great deal too much. His
stirrup is taking far too much of that motion which should be finding
expression in the motion of the body. The leg, that is to say, is doing
a duty which has very little to do with it. It cannot, therefore,
properly discharge its own, which, as a free member, independent of
seat, is to squeeze and encourage the horse at will.

A toe in the stirrup, then, is often, but not always, an indication of
too long a stirrup, resulting in bad hands and all its host of attendant
evils.

                                                                X. Y. Z.

                               “Our Van.”

RACING.

Quite a fillip, which was very welcome, was given to racing under
National Hunt Rules during the week which included the last days of
January and the first days of February. Gatwick began it, and, with two
stakes of £500 each, and the minimum of £100 only once not reached,
success was well deserved. One doubts whether much profit can accrue
from a meeting run on these liberal lines in winter. The meeting had
been brought forward from March with the view of steering clear of the
whirlpool which, later on, draws everything that can jump into the Grand
National. The experiment must be deemed successful, for horses were
numerous on each of the two days, whilst the public turned up in good
numbers in anticipation of sport that was not denied them. One felt
almost as though attending at a revival, so mediocre and tame had been
much of the racing earlier in the jumping season. On the first day the
chief item was the Tantivy Steeplechase, and in this the five-year-old
Sachem, who had shown ability over hurdles, winning two hurdle races at
the Sandown Park December Meeting, one of them the Grand Annual Hurdle
Handicap, came out as a steeplechaser for the first time in public. He
did so with conspicuous success, for he was carrying 11st. 10lb. and won
in excellent style. By far too many people knew that he had been fencing
in good form at home for the price about him to be long, and only the
presence of Rathvale prevented him from starting favourite. On the
second day came the International Hurdle Handicap, and in this
Isinglass’ son, Leviathan, did well by carrying home 11st. 12lb. to
victory.

Kempton Park followed on in the same liberal style, and met the same
degree of success. The £500 race on the first day was the Middlesex
Hurdle race, in which that expensive purchase, Sandboy, who had won a
couple of hurdle races, was running, weighted the same as The Chair. The
last-named always had the foot of Sandboy, being sent on a pace-making
mission which he carried out with such effect as to lead to within
twenty strides of the post. A sudden dash by Therapia, however, gave her
the race by a neck; and whether the rider of The Chair was caught
napping is a question upon which no agreement is likely to come about.
On the second day, John M.P. created a great impression by the way he
won the Coventry Handicap Steeplechase, named after the Earl of
Coventry, carrying 12st. 2lb. The way he strode along and jumped made
one think of Aintree, but two miles over ordinary fences is a very
different story to four and a half miles of the Grand National
staggerers. If John M.P. proves to be a genuine stayer, then he must
have a great chance. The only previous outing this season of John M.P.
was a hurdle-race under 12st. 7lb.

Sandown came in for some icy weather for its February Meeting. Over the
three miles of the Burwood Steeplechase Ranunculus did a very smooth
performance, but had nothing to push him, much less beat him. In winning
the Sandown Grand Prize, a Handicap Hurdle Race, under 12st. 7lb.,
Rassendyl showed himself improved out of all knowledge, and scored his
fourth consecutive win out of four times out. Mr. Stedall is persevering
enough to deserve a good one now and then.

At Hurst Park the next week a splendid entry was obtained for the Open
Steeplechase, but the race fizzled out to a field of three, and of these
Kirkland was as fat as the proverbial pig, though looking extremely
well. John M.P. gained a very easy win from Desert Chief, who, besides
chancing his fences in a way that spells grief at Aintree, altogether
failed to get three miles.

It is not unlikely that some clerks of courses will, in the future, make
a slight alteration in the distance of some of their handicap
steeplechases, so as to escape the action of the new conditions for the
Grand National, one of which penalises a winner of a handicap
steeplechase over a distance exceeding three miles 6 lb. extra. Winners
of any two steeplechases of three miles or over are penalised 4lb.

HUNTING.

For the sport of the month past we have nothing but praise. It has been
one of those months which live in the memory of hunting people. The
principal chases of which we have to write are notable alike for pace
and for duration, the Cottesmore on three consecutive weeks having
enjoyed runs which were of the kind which for want of a better word we
must call “old-fashioned,” in that they lasted over an hour and covered
a great variety of country.

I may repeat here, because it is a remark which cannot be gainsaid, and
is not without its moral, that those countries have much the best sport
which have the largest stock of foxes. The reasons for this are clear
and I think easy to see on reflection, that where foxes are numerous
hounds have plenty of blood, and there is a wider field for natural
selection in improving the breed of foxes. Sport, as might be expected,
steadily improves as the season goes on, the bad foxes are weeded out,
and their places are often taken by more mature animals from other
countries. Whether foxes are or are not bred in a covert it will never
want foxes if suitable in the shelter and food it affords. The best of
the Cottesmore runs which must be placed on record, was the one from
Prior’s Coppice on Tuesday, January 23rd. There have been longer points
and straighter runs than this, but none where a better pace was
sustained over a beautiful but not easy country for a prolonged time.

Many days have threatened fog or frost in the mornings, and yet have
been pleasant enough before the day was over. So it was on January 23rd.
The morning fog was cold and discouraging. How true is Whyte Melville’s
saying, that “Courage is a question of caloric.” Prior’s Coppice was
reached, and though hounds left some at least of their followers at a
disadvantage, yet when once clear of the covert it was clear that hounds
were bending left handed. By the time Cole’s Lodge was reached the pack
had started to hunt at a good pace, and the field were in their places.
Those who had galloped to reach hounds had now to sit down to ride to
keep with the pack. A slight turn helped. Then came a climb that made
one feel the advantage of after-Christmas condition. Before Christmas a
horse that had climbed the Hog’s Back would have needed a pull, now we
can ask him to gallop freely.

The fox worked as if Wardley Wood was his point, but his strength began
to fail, and he turned away before he crossed the road. Hounds swung
round with him, and it was the pressure they exercised that defeated
him. Now he began to turn and twist, but still keeping out of the way of
hounds in the most gallant fashion. He was actually in the brook with
the hounds, and at last crawled into Manton Gorse, from which he came
out to die. An hour and three quarters of the best country, and at a
pace that found out the weak points of many horses. Those who rode it
fairly on one horse knew that they had to quote Whyte Melville once
more, “not merely a good hunter, but a good horse.”

To find any run equal to this we have to go back to the Pytchley hunt
after a meet at Weedon Barracks, on Friday, January 12th. In this case
hounds hunted a fox which has, it is believed, run before them once at
least before this season. This great hunt lasted at least for two hours,
and there was just that amount of difficulty and hindrance for followers
in the early stages that enabled hounds to settle down to their work.
There was much heavy going, too; horses began to stop before, near Ashby
Ledgers, hounds on the grass began to run away from them. Near Daventry
wire cut the huntsman off from hounds, and with a beaten fox crawling in
front hounds lost him after all.

The best Wednesday was at Yelvertoft. The fox an out-lier, hounds laid
on in a grass field over which the fox had run a minute or two before.
Fences that held up the boldest, while hounds settled down, made a hunt
a certainty. There were a good many casualties at the flooded streams.

Never touching a covert and running fairly straight hounds ran on by
Naseby Covert; there were two lines here, and hounds no doubt took up
the fresh one. An eight-mile point in an hour tells of a first-rate
hunting run. Another half-hour and the fox that intervened paid the
penalty with his life. One of the great events of the hunting season is
the Quorn Hunt Ball. This year more than 300 people gathered in the Corn
Exchange at Melton, a gathering which included hunting people from many
parts of the world and all parts of England. It often happens that show
days are below the average of the sport usually shown. But Captain
Forester, who was hunting the hounds, was fortunate in finding a fox
which, if it made no great point, showed to the visitors a fine
selection of the famous riding grounds of the Quorn hunt.

The fixture after the ball, on Friday, February 2nd, was at Egerton
Lodge, which has been with so many generations the social centre of the
hunting world. This was appropriate, and so was the drawing of the
Hartopp coverts at Gartree Hill, and the visit of the fox to the Punch
Bowl, his timely excursion over the Burton Flats, which is, perhaps, to
the stranger the simplest form of Leicestershire. After running through
Adam’s Gorse the fox led the visitors into an almost perfect region of
grass and fences.

Altogether it was a day of which one could remark that anyone who rode
the line faithfully would have a fair idea of what hunting with the
Quorn meant.

On Saturday, February 3rd, Tom Bishopp once more carried the horn after
being laid by with influenza. The Normanton Hill coverts held a
traveller. For an hour and forty minutes hounds drove their fox over a
country which is for Leicestershire rather given over to arable. But
scent and a fairly straight line helped them, and when the end came at
Broughton Station they were nearly eleven miles from their starting
point, and had been going for an hour and three quarters. Thus the pace
must have been good. This was the straightest run of the whole week if
we except the Duke of Beaufort’s two gallops after meeting at
Cherrington on February 2nd in the Tetbury country. Hounds dashed away
for four miles. They were stopped and brought back. A third fox proved
equally good, for he led them right away into the choicest of the
V.W.H., the followers enjoying a variety of fencing, beginning with
stone walls, and including the rough hedges sometimes set on banks, and
the wide ditches of the vale country. The Duke’s country and the V.W.H.
ride deep in wet weather, but they also carry a scent under such
conditions. Hounds had come some nine miles in a direct line before they
turned and came back by Charlton Park. But in point of distance the run
of the month was in the remote district of East Cornwall, where hounds
are hunted by Mr. Connock Marshall, and Mr. Philpotts Williams controls
the field. It was in Torr Brake the fox was found, and a ring was worked
out without any extraordinary promise. On leaving the covert again the
scent improved, and from that point onwards hounds were well served.
Even supposing, of which there is no certainty, that they came away from
Torr the second time with a fresh fox, it was a marvellous run and a
wonderful instance of endurance for fox and hounds. It was not till two
hours and a half were over that hounds began to run for blood, and near
Berry Tor the leaders caught a view, and ran into a most gallant fox
that struggled to the very last. It is said that twenty-five miles was
covered as hounds ran, and if this is correct the pace was fast, as the
run lasted under two hours and three-quarters from find to finish.

The Woodland Pytchley had what may be described rather as a very
excellent day’s hunting (on Feb. 5th) than as a great run. They were
stopped at the end of five hours, having been hunting all the time. But
there were several changes, how many it would be difficult to say, since
such fox-haunted coverts as Rushton, Pipewell, Brampton, and Dingley
Warren, were some of the coverts visited during the day. It was a
remarkable performance for the hounds, and, like the run last mentioned,
speaks volumes for the kennel management of the pack.

Staghounds have, like the foxhounds, had a capital month. Mr. Stanley
brought off a notable performance on the Brendon Hills. He found a hind,
and hunted her for four hours with a moderate scent. The hounds worked
well, and their admirable condition carried them through. But we know,
of course, that much in these cases depends on the combination of
patience and promptness in the man who hunts them. The point was that
there was no change in spite of the danger of this on the moorland at
this time of year. That the chase of the carted deer has some points of
resemblance with that of their wild kindred, is shown by the experience
of the Surrey Staghounds when visiting the Kentish side of their
country. They had two admirable runs, and in both the quarry ran into
herds of park deer, the second one having to be left in Knole Park after
a fine chase of two and a half hours. It seems as if there was no limit
to the powers of a red deer hind in the winter, so that as the old
huntsman used to say, “She can run so long as she have a mind to.”

The changes among masters which January brings are not very numerous.
None of the leading hunts are vacant, and some of those which were in
want of new masters have succeeded in finding them. The latest
resignations are from Hampshire, where Mr. F. L. Swindell and Mr. Yorke
Scarlett are resigning the Hursley and the Tedworth. In no county are
shooting and hunting more likely to clash than in Hampshire. Moreover,
the county is a difficult one to hunt, yet the various packs, including
the Hambledon, the H.H., and the Vine have had a good season on the
whole. No doubt the plentiful rain has helped to bring about this
result. But good masters and huntsmen such as Hampshire has throughout
its hunting history had quite its share of having helped this result
greatly. Mr. Long, the grandson of a former master of the Hambledon,
will, it is said, take the Hursley. In the north Mr. J. B. Pease
succeeds Mr. Alec Browne with the Percy. In the Midlands, Sir J. Hume
Campbell buys Mr. McNeill’s famous bitch pack with which to hunt North
Cotswold, to the great satisfaction of the country. Among huntsmen the
changes are neither few nor unimportant. It is said that Gosden will
leave the Meynell; it is certain that John Isaac retires from the
Pytchley after twenty-six years of faithful and efficient service with
that pack. He will be succeeded by Frank Freeman, a son of the Will
Freeman whom I recollect with the South and West Wilts. Gillson, a son
of George Gillson of the Cottesmore, who has been hunting the last-named
pack with great success, is to follow Freeman in the Bedale country. I
can recollect him a mere lad as second whipper-in to Shepherd, so long
with the South Oxfordshire. Gillson has not forgotten, I dare say, the
queer-tempered horse he used to ride, and the kicking matches which,
though unpleasant when he wanted to turn hounds, no doubt helped to make
him the horseman he is.

The death of Charles Littleworth, formerly huntsman to the fifth Earl of
Portsmouth, removes from hunting circles one of the best judges of
foxhounds and terriers, and a most admirable woodland huntsman. Of those
I have known in a lengthening experience none were better than the late
Lord Macclesfield and Charles Littleworth at hunting a fox in strong
woodlands. Both, I think, liked a big dog-hound for the work. The blood
of the Eggesford kennels, as it was in Lord Portsmouth’s time, runs in
the veins of many of the best packs of the present day, the Badminton
and the Four Burrow each owing something to the Eggesford kennel. Then
the famous pack with which Sir Richard Glyn and John Press hunted the
Blackmore Vale owed much to the lucky cross of the Portsmouth Commodore
with Mr. Villebois’ Matchless. But this is too large a subject for such
notes as these. As a breeder of working terriers Charles Littleworth had
no superior and few equals, as those who have had the luck to own one of
his strain will bear witness.

The death of Lady Howe removes one who as a sportswoman stood among the
first. It is only as a rider to hounds that I have to write of her in
these columns. It has been my good fortune to see all the leading riders
to hounds of the last twenty years, and among them there was none better
than Lady Georgiana Curzon. It used to be said that there were five
ladies who stood out as riders to hounds, and the late Lady Howe was one
of the best of these.

HUNTING IN YORKSHIRE.

We have had an open January, hounds having only missed an odd day here
and there, and it is not till the day that these notes are written that
we have had any real wintry weather, though for a few days previous keen
northeasterly winds and flying showers of hail and sleet have shown that
there was frost and snow coming. Should the stoppage be a short one,
sport will undoubtedly benefit, and there will be a good tale to tell in
the April number of BAILY. Sport, on the whole, has not been great since
I last wrote, though there have been a few runs which stand out, notably
a moorland run with the Cleveland, in which a good point was made and a
lot of difficult country covered. Before proceeding, however, with a
record of the sport, some coming changes should be referred to. Fred
Freeman, who leaves the Bedale, will hunt the Pytchley next season, and
I am told that his uncle, Dick Freeman, who has shown such excellent
sport in the North Durham country for so many years, will retire at the
end of the season. An item of news which will please all his many
friends is that Tom Smith, of the Bramham Moor, has returned from his
short visit to Blackpool fully restored to health.

Lord Fitzwilliam’s had a famous day’s sport on Wednesday, January 10th,
when they met at the Oaks, Norton, on the Derbyshire side of their
country. In Whenacre they found a strong show of foxes and hounds
divided, one lot running by Sicklebrook to Troway, where they marked
their fox to ground. With this lot were Bartlett and the bulk of the
field. The other lot ran through the Norton Coverts, and turning to the
right from Gleadless Toll Bar, they rattled on to Hazelhurst, where
Bartlett came up with the rest of the pack, and they ran on at a good
pace past Lightwood to Charnock Hall. Some foot people on the hill
headed the fox and brought hounds to their noses, and they hunted slowly
down the valley and through the Royal Wood, where they worked up to
their fox, and rolled him over near Ford, after a fine hunting run of an
hour and a half. A capital forty-five minutes from Hanging Lea by
Hackenthorpe Church and Birley Spa, and the Beighton Gorse to Beighton
Village, where they marked their fox to ground, made up a good day’s
sport.

The Bramham Moor had some fine hunting in the cream of their country on
Friday, January 12th, when they met at Hutton Hall. There was a brace of
foxes in Hutton Thorns, with one of which they went away to Collier
Haggs with a rare rattle, but the fun was soon over, for he went to
ground near where they met. The other fox was viewed at Marston Village,
and Smith went to the hollow. Of course he was a long way ahead, but
hunting with the perseverance for which they are so famous, hounds
hunted him slowly back to Hutton Thorns and over the Marston Road, and a
couple of wide rings round to Hutton Thorns again, where he beat them.
They ran a second fox from White Syke Whin, leaving Wilstrop Wood on the
right, up to Skewkirk Bridge, and along the Nidd Banks for half a mile,
where hounds were stopped, as the fox had crossed the river into the
York and Ainsty country.

They had another good day on Thursday, January 18th, when they met at
Deighton Bar, the day of the fixture being changed on account of the
Barkston Ash election. They had rather a long draw for the country, for
they did not find till they got to Igmanthorpe Willow Garth. They ran
hard by Bickerton and Minster Hagg up to the Cowthorpe and Tockwith
road, where the first check took place. Hitting off the line over the
road, they ran down to the Nidd, which they crossed midway between
Cattail Bridge and Hunsingore. No sooner had they crossed the river than
they recrossed it, and they hunted down the banks of the Nidd with a
failing scent to Thornville Old Hall. Thence they swung round in the
direction of Tockwith, and finally were run out of scent between Minster
Hagg and Bickerton. A heavy snowstorm drove them home as they were about
to draw the Thorp Arch coverts.

The Hurworth had a rare day from Crathorne on Saturday, January 13th,
running over some of the finest country in the north of Yorkshire. They
found in Trenholme Bar Whin, and ran by Crathorne and Mr. Dugdale’s
coverts to Leven Banks, and on to Crathorne Mill, where they crossed the
Leven and pointed for Hutton Rudby. Leaving Rudby Wood on the right,
they skirted Windy Hill, and with a right hand turn below Seamer
Village, they ran by Tame Bridge, and over the Stokesley Road up to
Busby, finally marking their fox to ground in Carlton Bank in the
Bilsdale country. This is the second time the Hurworth have run into the
Cleveland west country, and it recalls old days when visits were
constantly paid to each other’s countries by the neighbouring packs, and
the best of sport was shown by the stout foxes for which both districts
were then famous.

The great moorland run with the Cleveland took place on Monday, January
22nd, when hounds met at Kilton. The morning was dull, and there was a
little fog about, and at times the mist hung thick on the moor, and
getting to hounds over the rough country crossed was no easy matter.
They found under Howson’s Nab, and ran sharply up to Liverton Lodge,
where they turn right-handed up Church Gill to Liverton Village. They
left Porritt Hagg to the right, and ran up Moorsholme Gill and on to the
moor. Then crossing the Peat Bogs and the Castleton Road, they pointed
for Skelton Warren, but swung left-handed before reaching Lockwood Head,
and crossing Commondale Moor they ran by North Ings and Sleddale Bog,
and through Percy Cross Plantation into Nanny Howe, where the fox
probably got to ground, and hounds went away with a fresh fox over Ayton
Banks and into Brown’s Intake, where they divided. One lot ran to the
top of Roseberry where there were open earths, but they did not mark the
fox to ground. A holloa for’ard at Langbarough Ridge, took hounds into
the low country, but this was evidently a fresh fox, and the rest of the
pack ran a very tired fox by Pinchinthorpe Hall and Ward’s Farm, but he
was a long way ahead, and they had to give it up. Only four men got to
the end. I should add that I never remember hounds running from Kilton
to Cook’s Monument, nor do I remember coming across any record of the
same line being crossed.

DEATH OF MR. E. A. NEPEAN.

On January 20th, after a brief illness, the cause of death being
influenza followed by pneumonia, this celebrated cricketer passed away
at Clarence House, Windsor.

Mr. Evan Alcock Nepean was the eldest son of Sir Evan Nepean, at one
time Director of Army Contracts; he was born in 1865, and educated at
Sherborne School and University College, Oxford. He went up to Oxford
from a very moderate school with something of a reputation as a steady
batsman and an eccentric bowler, with not much length and a curl from
leg.

This was in 1886, and Mr. Nepean playing for his college eleven had to
endure the mortification of standing about in the field during long
afternoons watching the chastisement of very moderate bowlers by
moderate enough batsmen.

Mr. Nepean was an early apostle of the twisting methods which have since
won such renown for Warwick Armstrong, Braund, and many another; but in
the dark ages of the middle ’eighties he had to plead hard to be allowed
to bowl an over or two, so great was the contempt inspired by his
so-called “Donkey Drops” or “Cock-a-doodles.” But sometimes his frequent
request to be allowed to bowl was listened to, and historically was this
the case in 1887 in the Parks at Oxford, when he was playing in a trial
match for the Etceteras against the Perambulators. The academic and
fast-footed methods of the, for that day, at any rate, much miscalled
Perambulators led to their downfall at the fingers of the leg-twister,
and in a brief summer afternoon Mr. Evan Nepean had fully established
his claim to be regarded as a bowler to be reckoned with, although but
for his batting ability it is possible that he would never have had an
opportunity of bowling an over in first-class cricket.

The success of his methods, at that time regarded as barbaric and
unfashionable, led to his gaining a trial for the ’Varsity team, and it
was found that the best professional batsmen did not relish the task of
fencing with his insidious deliveries. “It may be awful tosh, but it
gets them out,” was the verdict of the Oxonians; and so Mr. Nepean
having twisted himself into the Oxford eleven of 1887, took five
Cambridge wickets at a cost of 83 runs, and going in first scored 58 not
out, when the Dark Blues went in to get the runs and won by seven
wickets. The astute intelligence which at that time controlled the
fortunes of Middlesex cricket speedily retained the eccentric bowler for
county purposes, and from 1887 regularly until 1889, and after his call
to the Bar intermittently for a few years, Mr. Nepean rendered great
service both with bat and ball to the cosmopolitan county.

The season 1889 was the most successful Mr. Nepean enjoyed; he headed
the Middlesex averages with 41 wickets, at an average cost of just over
18 runs apiece, and in that year he played for the Gentlemen against the
Players at Lord’s, Kennington Oval, and Hastings. It was against
professional batsmen that he had his most marked successes, and the
great Notts batsmen of that day, including Arthur Shrewsbury and William
Gunn, at the top of their form, would often fall a prey to his insidious
twisters; in fact, his record for Middlesex against Notts in 1889 was 12
wickets for 88 runs, at a time when Notts was one of the strongest
batting sides in the country. To a batsman quick on his legs the bowling
of Mr. Nepean presented few terrors, but to the academic player
accustomed to stand fast-footed in his ground and play gracefully
forward or back, the Shirburnian proved a severe thorn in the flesh. As
a batsman he displayed little of the enterprise associated with his
bowling methods, but his stolid defence often realised a good score, for
he was never in any hurry, and did not believe in sacrificing his
wicket.

Mr. Nepean was an industrious barrister, with a good and growing
practice, and had for some years held the post of revising barrister for
one of the Metropolitan divisions.

By his death a distinguished cricket career was terminated, and a most
promising professional career was cut short.

THE GRAND PRIX AT MONTE CARLO.

Mr. Mackintosh, the Australian, was once more favourite for the £1,100
and Trophy, which entitles its holder to claim to be the best shot in
the world.

The accident of England being the only country in the world which makes
driving more fashionable than walking up game, has taught young shooters
here that pigeon shooting is not now good practice for game killing. On
the other hand, clay-bird shooting at the clubs is good practice for
pigeons, and so it happens that the man who seemed to have the only
chance of winning for England at the end of the seventh round of the
Grand Prix was a clay-bird shooter of pronounced success, viz., Mr.
Cave. This was also true of the last Englishman to win the trophy, viz.,
Captain Pellier Johnson.

On the other hand, the most successful Englishman in the present season
at Monte Carlo has been a regular Hurlingham and Gun Club pigeon-shooter
for many years. This is Mr. Hodgson Roberts, who took the Prix Journu
Handicap from the extreme range of 30 metres with 15 straight kills on
January 9th, and on January 30th won the Grande Poule d’Essai, an even
distance event, with 19 consecutive kills. Nevertheless, the betting for
the bigger event favoured Mr. Mackintosh all through the season,
although in the last-named event he had killed but four birds, and had
not been either lucky or great during the season. His principal triumph
was the Prix Myosotis Handicap, which he divided from the 31 metres
mark, but with only 7 kills; the famous French shooter, M. Journu, being
in with him from the 29½ metres distance. On January 15th Mr. Roberts
and Mr. C. Robinson (the latter representing America) had won the Prix
H. Grasselli, with a run of eight kills each. This prize is named after
the victor in 1902 and 1905, and should have its amount multiplied by
three in future years, as an honour to the Italian shooter who has
become the first three-times-victor, who also has won twice
consecutively, for, in spite of the penalty distance, he has now won a
third time. Surely where pigeon shooting counts as a proof of
marksmanship he must be held to be the greatest shot in the world. The
triumph of Italy was almost a foregone conclusion when Mr. Cave failed
for England at his eighth bird, but it was not Signor H. Grasselli who
the Italians backed then, but his runner-up last year. This was Signor
Marconcini, who, having killed his eleventh bird without a a miss, went
to the traps with £1,100 and the trophy trembling in the balance against
the life of one pigeon. Nerves were on the side of the latter, which
was, however, an easy bird and feathered by both barrels, but fell dead
just the wrong side of the boundary, which made all the difference to
Signor Marconcini, who was not even amongst the six victors in the end.
The betting at the start was 100 to 7 Mackintosh, 20 to 1 against H.
Grasselli, last year’s victor, and then 25 to 1 was obtained about
Roberts, Robinson, and P. Thellusson. The first named of these three
missed his first bird, and the last named his second. Probably the
betting really indicates the status of the shooters quite as much as the
chances of war and eventual victory, and for that reason it may be added
that 33 to 1 was to be had against Journu, Marconcini, Wilder, Lazzara,
Habite, Moore, Huet, and F. Thellusson, and 50 to 1 each against
Chiannini, Bruce, Moncorge, Hans, Marsh, H. Cave, C. Cave, Webb,
Horadetski and Rosslyn, and 66 to 1 against any others. As there were
175 shooters, it cannot be said that the odds were upon the liberal
side. The strength of the birds and some wind soon settled the chances
of more than three parts of the competitors, but those who had the luck
to get to the last day had no wind to contend with, although the birds
were of the best throughout. Of course the entry was the record, for in
spite of our insular prejudice the event grows in importance. Signor H.
Grasselli won with 19 kills in 20 birds; Signor Bordoni killed 18 out of
20 birds and took second, and Dom Luro, from Brazil, with 16 out of 18
obtained third place. The fourth prize was secured by 15 out of 16 shots
by three shooters, who divided, these were two Italians and one
Frenchman, so that there were four Italian victors out of six. The
fourth men were Signor Chirericati, Signor Schianini, and Count Lazzana.
The victories are now twelve times for England, all but three of them in
the first half of the competitions, twelve for Italy, all but three of
these being the last half of the annual events. Four times Frenchmen
won. Three times Austria and Hungary have taken the trophy. Twice it has
been won by Belgium, and Spain has taken it once, as also has the United
States, which was in the year of its initiation. America, for different
reasons to England (for game driving is unknown there) seems to have
dropped almost out of the competition, although it is probable that the
best pigeon shots are to be found in that country. At any rate, the best
clay-bird shots are, and the ease with which they overthrew the English
team in which Mr. Cave shot a few years ago will hardly be forgotten,
and they did it with one barrel against the English two.

GOLF.

The General Election took from the membership of the House of Commons
several good golfers, including Mr. Arthur Balfour, Mr. Gerald Balfour,
and Mr. Alfred Lyttelton, and made only one notable addition, namely,
Mr. Frank Newnes, the new member for the Bassetlaw Division of Notts.
The two best players at Westminster, Mr. Eric Hambro and Mr. H. W.
Forster, retained their seats.

The Walton Heath Club has inaugurated a competition which promises to
excite much interest among London golfers. The competition is for a
challenge trophy presented by the club, and is confined to clubs whose
headquarters are within thirty miles of Charing Cross. Each club will
provide a professional and an amateur player, or two amateurs, and the
couple will play a two-ball foursome on a neutral green, until the final
round is reached, when the play must take place on Walton Heath. If the
response to the invitation for entries is at all general there will be
fine play, for the London clubs include some of the best players,
amateur and professional, in the country. The latter include Harry
Vardon, James Braid, J. H. Taylor, Jack White and Rowland Jones; while
among the former are Mr. H. H. Hilton, Mr. Harold Beveridge, Mr. W.
Herbert Fowler, and Mr. T. R. Pinkerton.

Four professionals from this country, Jack White, Alexander Herd, Andrew
Kirkaldy and Rowland Jones, went to Mexico and took part in the
championship meeting there. They, however, found the conditions far from
their liking, and made an indifferent show. The championship was won by
Willie Smith, an old Carnoustie player, who has been some time in
America, and can play on sand greens. A team competition was arranged,
but in this the home professionals did no better than in the
championship play. Andrew Kirkaldy had for opponent Bernard Nicholls,
the young professional who beat Harry Vardon twice in America. Nicholls
on this occasion defeated Kirkaldy by two holes.

Harry Vardon is staying at La Touquet this winter for his health, and
has distinguished himself by making a record score for the course of 68.
This indicates surely that his health is mending.

A scheme has been started for the laying out of a full golf course at
Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, and the conversion of Norris Castle into a
clubhouse, with bedrooms for the accommodation of golfers as well as
yachtsmen.

“HIS HOUSE IN ORDER,” AT THE ST. JAMES’S THEATRE.

Following the great success of “Nero” comes the marked success of
Pinero, and Mr. George Alexander is to be congratulated upon the
reception which his recent production has received from public and
critics alike.

Mr. Pinero rising, phœnix-like, from the ashes of “The Wife without a
Smile,” has, according to many intelligent playgoers, soared to a
greater height than ever before, and people have not hesitated to
declare “His House in Order” to be a finer play than “The Second Mrs.
Tanqueray.”

A few years ago Mr. Pinero was reported to have said, upon some public
occasion, that what a dramatist requires is praise. Our leading
playwright ought just now to be like the little boy in the
advertisement, “He is happy now he has got it.”

With everybody loud in their praises of the play, we have to ask for
sympathy in the disappointment we suffered on seeing it. We have always
been full of admiration for Mr. Pinero’s genius, and having been told to
expect so much of his latest work, we were discontented with what we saw
and heard. To begin with, we could not find in the play one single
character with whom we could sympathise or whose cause we could espouse
with any enthusiasm.

Nina is presumably meant to appeal to the sympathies of the audience,
but, after all, her only claim to this appears to be that she is
mortified and distressed by the brutality of the relatives of the first
wife of her husband. Nina Jesson seems to be just a middle-class little
thing who, entering the Jesson household as governess, marries Jesson on
the death of his first wife.

She is devoted to ill-mannered dogs, which she would love to encourage
about the house; she is a confirmed cigarette-smoker, having been
instructed in this accomplishment by her father, the clergyman, and she
appears to be untidy, unpunctual, and generally impossible; whilst she
is sneak enough to read other people’s letters and to use them for her
own ends. And so to keep Jesson’s house in order, the deceased wife’s
sister acts as hostess instead of the unpractical Nina—and that is the
grievance. She and the other three members of the Ridgeley family do not
hesitate to enlarge on the shortcomings of the second Mrs. Jesson, and
hence our tears are invoked on behalf of the ex-governess.

We may say, however, that for Miss Irene Vanbrugh, who plays Nina, we
have nothing but the warmest admiration. She plays the part for all that
it is worth, and her performance is the finest feature of the play.

The members of the Ridgeley family are, to our mind, like nothing in the
world except themselves, and they certainly are so much like one another
that Nina might have drawn them at any time by saying: “There are not
four Ridgeleys but one Ridgeley.”

Mr. Pinero has probably met a Ridgeley somewhere, but we hope there are
not many of them about. Hillary Jesson, in one of his flights of
declamation, denounces the Ridgeleys as “individually and collectively
one of the pests of humanity,” and this line got the most hearty
applause of the evening. Obviously the Ridgeleys never go in front at
the St. James’s Theatre, and it is not at all a bad device of
stage-craft to direct all your slings and arrows against a class of
people who, if not absolutely non-existent, are certainly never to be
found amongst the audience in a theatre. The middle-class Puritanical
goody-goody must always be a safe butt for the player and playgoer.

But there are much worse people than the Ridgeleys in the play. There is
a Major Maurewarde who seduces the wife of his friend, sneakingly claims
the only offspring of that marriage as his own natural son, and after
the death of the lady contrives to enjoy the hospitality of the cuckold
and the affection of the bastard—a nice specimen of an officer and a
gentleman!

Then there is a British Minister to some foreign republic, unfortunately
home on leave, who must have a finger in every pie and put the whole
world straight. He espouses the cause of Nina, but when she is going to
use the compromising letters of her predecessor in the affections of
Jesson, Hillary Jesson, his brother, the meddler, prevails upon her to
do no such thing, but to hand over the compromising documents to his
safe keeping, with the result that he loses little time in handing them
himself to his brother, the deceived husband.

As a reward for having nearly talked her to death, her self-elected
champion asks Nina to present him with her cigarette case that he may
add it to a very bizarre collection of curiosities he has made,
including “the blood-stained handkerchief of a matador, and a
half-smoked cigarette that has been pressed by the lips of an
empress—one of the noblest of her sex.” To our mind, the man who can
talk such rot as this is likely to be a much more troublesome creature
than any of the despised Ridgeleys.

Then the husband Jesson would not be everybody’s choice; he certainly
treats his second wife very unkindly, and as far as we can see the only
reason for his kicking out the Ridgeleys, and allowing his wife to
resume the proud privilege of keeping house for him, is that he becomes
aware of the infidelity of his first wife and wreaks his vengeance upon
her relatives.

We are told that two wrongs cannot make one right, and there seems no
reason why the accidental revelation of the infidelities of a dead woman
should suddenly transform a bad housekeeper into a good one, as probably
Mr. Jesson soon discovered.

Upon the theme of this interesting play one might wander on
indefinitely, but space fortunately forbids our saying more now, except
that everybody should go and see “His House in Order,” and everybody
should be interested by it; but we cannot think that anybody ought to
call it Mr. Pinero’s masterpiece, for Mr. Pinero has written some very
fine plays indeed.

                         Sporting Intelligence.
                    [During January—February, 1906.]

On January 17th Her Majesty the Queen attended the meet of the West
Norfolk Foxhounds, at Rougham Hall, in a motor car; the Princess
Victoria, and the Princes Edward and Albert of Wales were present on
horseback. The Queen showed great interest in the pack, and photographed
the hounds.

While out hunting with the Woodland Pytchley Hounds, on January 17th,
Mr. John Thornton, of Pilton, Northamptonshire, when jumping a high
fence, was thrown from his seat and came down on the point of the
saddle, sustaining severe internal injuries, to which he succumbed on
the following day.

Mr. J. G. Blanshard, who had been for some thirty years secretary of the
Wetherby Steeplechase Meeting, died at his residence, Walton, near
Wetherby, on January 18th, at the age of seventy. Mr. Blanshard was a
well-known judge of horses, and bred many good hunters in his time.

On January 18th there died at his residence, Wynnstay Gardens,
Kensington, Mr. Thomas Hughes, aged eighty-three years. Mr. Hughes was,
in his day, a well-known personage on the turf, and so far back as 1859
he did well when The Brewer won the Liverpool Autumn Cup; and in 1864 he
won the Chester Cup with the eight-year-old Flash-in-the-Pan.

The Croome Hounds had a good run on January 20th, during which the pack
got upon the railway and had the misfortune to lose a hound.

At the early age of forty-two years, Sir James Percy Miller, Bart., died
at Manderston, Duns, Berwickshire, on January 22nd, as the result of a
chill taken while out hunting the previous week. The deceased baronet
had a very successful career on the Turf, and in 1903 won the Derby with
Rock Sand; he was also well known in the hunting-field, and had been
from 1897 Master of the local pack.

Owing to the death of Sir George Shiffner, which occurred on January
23rd, in his eighty-sixth year, at his residence, Coombe, Lewes, the
Southdown Foxhounds did not meet for several days.

A painful incident occurred with the Meynell Hounds on January 25th. The
meet was at Brailsford Bridge, and Captain Frederick Livingstone
Campbell, superintendent of the Sheerness Dockyard, who was out,
suffered a seizure just as the fox was killed, and fell from his saddle,
dislocating his neck; hounds were at once called off.

The death occurred at Mython House, near Shrewsbury, of Mr. Alfred
Roqueir Candon. The deceased, who was an old member of the Cotswold
Hunt, was this season hunting with the Shropshire hounds. On January
30th, while exercising a hunter, after taking several fences the horse
bolted and threw its rider at a gate: Mr. Candon broke his neck, death
being almost instantaneous.

One of the best-known writers on natural history and country life
subjects, Mr. Charles John Cornish, died at Worthing on January 30th,
aged forty-seven years. The deceased was a keen lover of field sports
and wildfowling, and his experiences were most agreeably related in many
books and articles contributed to the _Spectator_ and other periodicals.

Lord Newlands, who was in his eighty-first year, died at Maudslie
Castle, Lanarkshire, on January 30th. For many years he was a keen
supporter of coaching, and was a member of the Four-in-Hand and also of
the Coaching Clubs, being elected President of the last-named in 1902.
Lord Newland was a prominent supporter of the Lanark Races.

On January 30th the death occurred of a well-known Yorkshire sportsman
and ex-M.F.H., Mr. John Hill. He was in his eighty-fifth year, and
passed away suddenly at the Low Hall, Brompton, Yorkshire. Mr. John Hill
and his father before him, Mr. R. Johnson Hill, hunted the country
around Scarborough, now known as Mr. Sherbrooke’s, from the year 1808.
Mr. John Hill took over the Mastership upon the death of his father in
1855, but sold the hounds in 1862 to the Duke of Grafton. Frank Beers
was well pleased with the pack, and their blood is to be found, says
_Horse and Hound_, in the Grafton Hounds to-day. Mr. Hill was succeeded
in the Mastership of the Scarborough country by Mr. Harcourt Johnstone
(the present Lord Derwent), for whom he hunted them for many seasons,
and another member of the family, Mr. Robin Hill, is at present acting
as amateur huntsman to Mr. Sherbrooke.

Mr. John Bell Irving, of Whitehill, Dumfriesshire, died on January 31st
in his ninety-fourth year. The deceased was the oldest Justice of the
Peace in Scotland, having been on the commission for sixty years. He was
a famous breeder of stock and a prominent coursing man, having owned
many well-known greyhounds, and was the only survivor of a band of
county gentlemen which started the Dumfriesshire Foxhounds. Last year,
at the age of ninety-three, he was present at the annual races. His
wife, who predeceased him eighteen months ago, was the sister of the
late Sir Robert Jardine.

On February 3rd Charles Littleworth died at his residence at Crediton,
aged seventy-six years. The deceased, who was born in Hampshire, entered
hunt service in 1854, when he became second horseman to the Earl of
Portsmouth, then Master of the Vine; later he went with Lord Portsmouth
to Devonshire as first whipper-in to the Eggesford, and was soon after
promoted to huntsman. He remained on active service in the country for
nearly forty years. In 1890 he was presented with an illuminated address
and a purse of 200 guineas. Charles Littleworth took a great interest in
the breeding of fox-terriers, and often acted as a judge at shows.

On February 3rd there passed away Major T. H. Preston, of Moreby Hall,
near York, in his eighty-ninth year. Very keen to hounds and a fine
shot, Major Preston was one of the few survivors of the disaster to the
York and Ainsty Hounds on February 4th, 1869, when Sir Charles
Slingsley, the Master, and other members of the Hunt lost their lives
through the capsizing of the ferry-boat on the River Ure.

Mr. John Arkwright, who was for many years Hon. Secretary to the North
Warwickshire Hunt, died on February 12th at his residence, Hatton House,
near Warwick, aged eighty-two years. Mr. Arkwright was presented with
his portrait a number of years ago, when there was a great gathering of
hunting men at Stoneleigh, and the late Lord Leigh made the presentation
on behalf of the subscribers. The present Master of the North
Warwickshire, Mr. J. P. Arkwright, is elder son of the deceased
gentleman.

A veteran Irish sportsman has passed away in the person of Mr. Philip
Blake, who died at his residence, Ladyrath House, Navan, aged eighty
years. He was well known with the Meath and the Louth Hounds, and in the
sixties was Master and owner of the Meath Union Harriers.

Some good prices for hunters have been obtained at the Leicester
Repository. Lord Chesham sold three: Patrick, 160 gs.; Goodman, 170 gs.;
and Dulcimer, 230 gs. Three sent up by Captain G. E. Belleville sold as
follows: St. Maur, 210 gs.; Oatmeal, 185 gs., and Samuel, 150 gs. Mr.
Alex. Browne, M.F.H., realised an average of £283 10s. for eleven
hunters; The Dub, 600 gs.; Daly, 500 gs.; Silver Cloud, 400 gs.; Galway,
350 gs.; Ludlow, 260 gs.; Grantham, 200 gs.; Leicester, 175 gs.; The
Chef, 160 gs.; Tinker, 130 gs.; Benjamin, 125 gs., and Jedburgh, 70 gs.
Other properties included Bay g. 125 gs.; Hall Weston, 200 gs.; Lady
Sissie, 120 gs.; Nimrod, 100 gs.; Princess Osra, 180 gs., and Buller,
110 gs.

Amongst the more important sales by Messrs. Tattersall at Albert Gate
during the last few weeks may be mentioned: Mr. E. W. Bradbury’s
Starlight, 105 gs.; Imperial, sent up by a lady, 130 gs.; Major
Sherston’s bay, 110 gs. From Mr. H. Thompson, Crossgar, the following
made three figures: Nine Pins, 100 gs.; Mullingar, 140 gs.; Gentleman,
105 gs.; The Stag, 120 gs.; Ebony, the property of Mr. J. Blackburn,
realised 130 gs.

Owing to her great age and increasing infirmity, it was found necessary
to destroy the famous old mare, Mowerina, at the Hunciecroft Paddocks,
Welbeck. Herself and her children have won just over £87,000 in stakes,
the offspring including Modwena and her brother Donovan, a very good
horse indeed, who won £55,154 in two years’ racing. Mowerina’s daughter,
Semolina, was a good early two-year-old; she won the Brocklesby Stakes;
and Semolina’s brother, Raeburn, was the only horse to ever beat
Isinglass, and is now in Hungary, having been purchased at the last
Newmarket December Sales by Baron Harkanyi.

Harvester, by Sterling-Wheatear, who ran a dead heat with St. Gatien in
the Derby of 1884, when the stakes were divided for the first time,
recently died at the Zabola Stud, in Hungary. Bred by Lord Falmouth in
1881, Harvester won as a two-year-old the Thirty-sixth Triennial at
Newmarket, and the Clearwell Stakes, and in the spring of 1884 was sold
to Sir John Willoughby, for 8,000 gs.

SHIP-BUILDING SURGERY.—The steamship _Forth_, one of the Carron fleet
running between London and Scotland for passenger and goods traffic, is
at present laid up for an extraordinary operation which will lengthen
the boat by 40 feet. She was hoisted on a large cradle and cut right
through just forward of the bridge deck. The cradle was also sawn
asunder, and the two parts with their respective portions of the ship
were drawn apart to a distance of 40 feet, which space was then built
in. The alteration will enable the _Forth_ to carry about 200 tons more
cargo, and her steaming capabilities will not be impaired. On the
contrary she will now rank amongst the finest steamers on the East
Coast.

                                 TURF.

                       MANCHESTER SECOND JANUARY.

 January 17th.—The Manchester Handicap Steeplechase of 200
   sovs.; two miles.
     Mr. C. Bower Ismay’s b. h. Theodocion, by
       Marcion—Minthe, aged, 12st. 3lb.                       A. Newey 1
     Mr. C. R. Hodgson’s b. m. Do be Quick, 6 yrs., 11st.
       13lb.                                                 Mr. Payne 2
     Mr. A. Coats’ b. m. Felspar, 6 yrs., 11st. 6lb.           R. Cowe 3
                        3 to 1 agst. Theodocion.

 January 18th.—The Cheshire Hurdle Race of 200 sovs.; two
   miles.
     Sir Peter Walker’s b. g. St. Evremonde, by St.
       Frusquin—Ejector, 6 yrs., 11st. 11lb.               E. Sullivan 1
     Mr. J. Tait’s br. m. Adelia, 5 yrs., 10st, 11lb.      E. Driscoll 2
     Mr. F. Straker’s ch. m. Consequence, 6 yrs., 11st.
       8lb.                                                  M. Phelan 3
                       9 to 2 agst. St. Evremonde.

                               HURST PARK.

 January 19th.—The New Year Handicap Hurdle Race of 150
   sovs.; two miles.
     Mr. A. Stedall’s b. g. Rassendyl, by Loved
       One—Princess, aged, 11st. 9lb.                        J. Dillon 1
     Mr. H. Rich’s ch. g. Hopeless II., 6 yrs., 10st.               G.
       11lb.                                                Williamson 2
     Mr. E. Christie Miller’s br. h. St. John’s Wood, 6         Mr. W.
       yrs., 11st.                                             Bulteel 3
                         5 to 1 agst. Rassendyl.

 January 20th.—The Middlesex Handicap Steeplechase of 150
   sovs.; two miles.
     Mr. P. Gleeson’s b. h. Lord of the Level, by
       Macheath—Mome d’Amour, 6 yrs., 11st. 8lb.              F. Mason 1
     Col. R. L. Birkin’s b. g. Springbok, 5yrs., 11st.          Mr. R.
       5lb.                                                      Payne 2
     Mr. T. W. Blenkiron’s b. f. Queen’s Scholar, 5 yrs.,
       10st. 9lb.                                            J. Dillon 3
                     2 to 1 agst. Lord of the Level.

                       NOTTINGHAM JANUARY MEETING.

 January 30th.—The Nottinghamshire Handicap Steeplechase
   of 400 sovs.; two miles.
     Mr. J. Gordon Houghton’s b. g. Desert Chief, by
       Spahi—Genista, by Exminster, aged, 12st. 12lb.      R. Chadwick 1
     Mr. F. Bibby’s ch. h. Wild Boer, 6 yrs., 10st. 8lb.      F. Mason 2
     Mr. P. Cullinan’s b. m. Little May II., aged, 10st.
       3lb.                                                 Mr. Walker 3
                        13 to 8 on Desert Chief.

                         GATWICK SECOND JANUARY.

 January 31st.—The Tantivy Steeplechase of 500 sovs.; two
   miles.
     Mr. T. Clyde’s br. g. Sachem, by Noble
       Chieftain—Talavera, 5 yrs., 11st. 10lb.              J. O’Brien 1
     Sir Henry Randall’s b. c. Frisky Bill, 4 yrs., 10st.
       10lb.                                                 J. Dillon 2
     Prince Hatzfeldt’s ch. g. Rathvale, 5 yrs., 12st.
       1lb.                                                  W. Morgan 3
                          9 to 4 agst. Sachem.

 The Surrey Steeplechase (Handicap) of 209 sovs.; two
   miles.
     Mr. C. Hibbert’s b. h. Royal Rouge, by Florizel                J.
       II—Red Enamel, aged, 11st.                          Nightingall 1
     Prince Hatzfeldt’s b. g. Cossack Post, aged, 12st.        Hon. A.
       1lb.                                                   Hastings 2
     C. T. Garland’s b. or br. m. Sudden Rise, 6yrs.,
       11st. 12lb.                                           W. Morgan 3
                        8 to 1 agst. Royal Rouge.

 February 1st.—The Stewards’ Steeplechase Handicap of 200
   sovs.; three miles and a half.
     Mr. C. R. Hodgson’s b. m. Do be Quick, by                  Mr. R.
       Speed—Danska, 6 yrs., 12st. 1lb.                          Payne 1
     Major M. H. Tristram’s Shaun Aboo, aged, 11st. 6lb.        Mr. W.
                                                               Bulteel 2
     Prince Hatzfeldt’s Deerslayer, aged, 11st. 5lb.           Hon. A.
                                                              Hastings 3
                        2 to 1 agst. Do be Quick.

 The International Hurdle Race (Handicap) of 500 sovs.;
   two miles.
     Mr. Thompson’s ch. h. Leviathan, by
       Isinglass—Galiana, aged, 11st. 12lb.                  G. Wilson 1
     Mr. Robert Campbell’s ch. g. St. Enogat, aged, 10st.
       9lb.                                                   F. Mason 2
     Sir S. Scott’s b. g. Series, 6 yrs., 10st. 11lb.         H. Aylin 3
                         8 to 1 agst. Leviathan.

 The Brook Hurdle Race of 200 sovs.; two miles.
     Lord Londonderry’s b. g. St. Florentin, by St.
       Simon—Wise Flower, 4 yrs., 10st.                      T. Fitton 1
     Mr. Edmund Lamb’s b. g. Ancaster, 6 yrs., 11st.       M. J. Harty 2
     Capt. F. Bald’s b. g. Rosebury, 5 yrs., 10st. 10lb.      F. Mason 3
                       9 to 4 agst. St. Florentin.

                              KEMPTON PARK.

 February 2nd.—The Middlesex Hurdle Race of 500 sovs.; two
   miles.
     Sir Peter Walker’s b. f. Therapia, by
       Tarporley—Rosemount, 4 yrs. 10st. 4lb.              E. Sullivan 1
     Mr. F. W. Phillips’ ch. h. The Chair, 6 yrs., 11st.         W. T.
       11lb.                                                    Morgan 2
     Mr. Imber’s b. h. Sandboy, 6 yrs., 11st. 11lb.            J. Hare 3
                        100 to 12 agst. Therapia.

 February 3rd.—The Coventry Handicap Steeplechase of 500
   sovs.; two miles.
     Mr. J. S. Morrison’s b. g. John M.P., by
       Britannic—Guiding Star, aged, 12st. 2lb.              W. Taylor 1
     Mr. F. Bibby’s b. g. Comfit, aged, 11st.                 F. Mason 2
     Capt. Michael Hughes’ b. g. Vaerdalen, 5 yrs., 11st.
       8lb.                                                   M. Harty 3
                         3 to 1 agst. John M.P.

                              SANDOWN PARK.

 February 9th.—The Sandown Grand Prize of 300 sovs.; two
   miles.
     Mr. A. Stedall’s b. g. Rassendyl, by Loved
       One—Princess, aged, 12st. 7lb.                        J. Dillon 1
     Mr. W. J. Crook’s b. g. Henley, 5 yrs., 11st. 1lb.    L. Sherwood 2
     Mr. C. Bower Ismay’s Theodocion, aged, 11st. 4lb.        A. Newey 3
                         4 to 1 agst. Rassendyl.

 The February Four-year-old Hurdle Race of 200 sovs.; two
   miles.
     Sir H. Randall’s ch. g. Magic Lad, by                          J.
       Common—Grammarge, 10st. 10lb.                       Nightingall 1
     Mr. R. Combe’s b. g. Cadwal, 10st, 10lb.                 H. Aylin 2
     Major E. Loder’s b. c. Maggio, 10st. 2lb.              A. Anthony 3
                       100 to 12 agst. Magic Lad.

 February 10th.—The Prince of Wales’s Steeplechase of 172
   sovs.; three miles and a half.
     Lord Sefton’s b. g. Canter Home, by
       Retreat—Canterbury, aged, 10st. 12lb.               E. Driscoll 1
     Mr. Hamilton Langley’s bl. g. Brian Born, aged, 11st.      Mr. P.
       1lb.                                                   Whitaker 2
                        7 to 4 agst. Canter Home.

                          MANCHESTER FEBRUARY.

 February 12th.—The February Handicap Steeplechase of 200
   sovs.; three miles.
     Mr. John Widger’s b. m. Northern Light IV., by
       Blairfinde—False Dawn, aged, 10st. 11lb. (car.           Mr. J.
       11st.)                                                   Widger 1
     Sir Peter Walker’s bl. g. Royal Drake, aged, 12st.
       41b.                                                E. Sullivan 2
     Mr. S. Pickering’s b. m. Johnstown Lass, aged, 10st.
       10lb.                                                  H. Aylin 3
                     7 to 4 agst. Northern Light IV.

 The Broughton Hurdle Race (Handicap) of 200 sovs.; two
   miles.
     Mr. R. B. Henry’s ch. g. Moonstruck, by
       Massacre—Diana, 6 yrs., 11st. 10lb.                    F. Mason 1
     Sir Peter Walker’s b. g. St. Evremonde, 6 yrs., 11st.
       12lb.                                               E. Sullivan 2
     Mr. J. Croxton’s b. g. Rapt, 5 yrs., 10st. 9lb.        G. Knowles 3
                        9 to 4 agst. Moonstruck.

                         ROYAL WINDSOR FEBRUARY.

 February 14th.—The Bracknell Handicap Hurdle Race of 200
   sovs.; two miles.
     Mr. E. J. Percy’s bl. f. Black Mingo, by Cherry
       Tree—Calista, 5 yrs., 10st. 2lb.                       F. Mason 1
     Mr. A. Hamblin’s ch. c. Orison, 4 yrs., 10st. 5lb        A. Birch 2
     Major Joicey’s ch. h. Plum Pecker, 6 yrs., 10st. 1lb  E. Driscoll 3
                        6 to 1 agst. Black Mingo.

 February 15th.—The Royal Handicap Steeplechase of 200
   sovs.; three miles.
     Mr. G. Auckland’s b. h. Drumkerrin, by Speed, dam by       Mr. W.
       Castlereagh—Sister to Rufus, 6 yrs., 11st.              Bulteel 1
     Mr. F. White’s br. g. Shaun Dhuv, aged, 11st. 4lb.    E. Driscoll 2
     Mr. J. W. King’s ch. m. Countenance, aged, 10st. 3lb.    J. Simms 3
                        4 to 1 agst. Drumkerrin.

                               FOOTBALL.

  January 20th.—At Cambridge, the University v. London Scottish,
    latter won by 30 points to 8.*

  January 20th.—At Richmond, Richmond v. Blackheath, latter won by a
    try to 0.*

  January 22nd.—At Oxford, the University v. Woolwich Arsenal, latter
    won by 4 goals to 0.†

  January 22nd.—At Leeds, North v. South, latter won by 2 goals to 0.†

  January 24th.—At Oxford, the University v. Casuals, former won by 4
    goals to 2.†

  January 24th.—At Cambridge, the University v. Tottenham Hotspur,
    former won by 3 goals to 1.†

  January 27th.—At Cambridge, the University v. Casuals, former won by
    3 goals to 0.†

  January 27th.—At Richmond, Richmond v. Oxford University, latter won
    by 4 goals to 2 goals 1 try.*

  January 27th.—At Richmond, London Scottish v. Harlequins, former won
    by 2 tries to 1.*

  January 27th.—At Cardiff, Cardiff v. Blackheath, former won by 2
    goals 2 tries to 0.*

  January 27th.—At Queen’s Club, Corinthians v. Oxford University,
    former won by 4 goals to 0.†

  January 29th.—At Oxford, the University v. Oxford City, latter won
    by 3 goals to 2.†

  January 31st.—At Oxford, the University v. Guy’s Hospital, former
    won by 16 points to 15.*

  February 3rd.—At Oxford, the University v. Lennox, former won by 24
    points to 9.*

  February 3rd.—At Cardiff, Wales v. Scotland, former won by 9 points
    to 3.*

  February 3rd.—At Queen’s Club, Corinthians v. Manchester City,
    former won by 4 goals to 1.†

  February 3rd.—At Richmond, Richmond v. Cambridge University, latter
    won by 3 goals 3 tries to 1 try.*

  February 3rd.—At Leyton, Old Reptonians v. Oxford University, latter
    won by 1 goal to 0.†

  February 3rd.—At Blackheath, Blackheath v. Harlequins, former won by
    2 goals 3 tries to 3 goals.*

  February 3rd.—At Richmond, London Scottish v. London Welsh, latter
    won by 7 points to 0.*

  February 5th.—At Oxford, the University v. The Navy, former won by 5
    goals to 0.†

  February 7th.—At Queen’s Club, Old Malvernians v. Oxford University,
    latter won by 7 goals to 0.†

  February 10th.—At Leicester, England v. Ireland, latter won by 2
    goals 2 tries to 2 tries.*

  February 10th.—At Oxford, The University v. West Norwood, former won
    by 2 goals to 0.†

  February 10th.—At Blackheath, Blackheath v. London Irish, former won
    by 1 goal 1 try to 1 try.*

  February 10th.—At Cardiff, Cardiff v. Moseley, former won by 4 goals
    4 tries to 0.*

  February 10th.—At Richmond, Richmond v. Rosslyn Park, latter won by
    1 goal 1 try to 1 try.*

  February 12th.—At Cambridge, The University v. North of Ireland,
    former won by 6 placed goals 1 penalty goal and 4 tries to 0.*

                       * Under Rugby Rules.

                       † Under Association Rules.

                            PIGEON SHOOTING.

  January 30th.—At Monte Carlo, the Grande Poule d’Essai, Mr. H.
    Roberts won the gold medal, and divided first and second with
    Count Chiericati.

  February 8th.—At Monte Carlo, the Grand Prix du Casino, Signor H.
    Grasselli won.

  February 10th.—Mr. Greig won the Prix de Monte Carlo Handicap.

-----

Footnote 4:

  The normal temperature of the dog is 101·4°.—EDITOR.

Footnote 5:

  “The Foxhounds of Great Britain.” Edited by Sir Humphrey de Trafford,
  Bart., and published by Walter Southwood and Co., 30, Craven Street,
  Strand, London. Price, £5 5s.

Footnote 6:

  John Wisden’s _Cricketers’ Almanack_ for 1906. Edited by Sydney H.
  Pardon. Forty-third edition. London: Published and sold by John Wisden
  and Co., 21, Cranbourn Street, W.C. Price 1s.

Footnote 7:

  “The Horse: Its Treatment in Health and Disease.” Edited by Professor
  J. Wortley Axe, M.R.C.V.S. Divisional Volume II. The Gresham
  Publishing Company.

                            BAILY’S MAGAZINE

                                   OF

                          SPORTS AND PASTIMES.

 ┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
 │                       DIARY FOR APRIL, 1906.                        │
 ├──────┬─────┬────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤
 │Day of│ Day │                      OCCURRENCES.                      │
 │Month.│ of  │                                                        │
 │      │Week.│                                                        │
 ├──────┼─────┼────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤
 │      │     │                                                        │
 │     1│ =S= │=Fifth Sunday in Lent.=                                 │
 │     2│  M  │Warwick, Usk and Retford Hunt Races.                    │
 │     3│ TU  │Warwick Races.                                          │
 │     4│  W  │Newbury, Monmouth, Ipswich, North Warwickshire Races.   │
 │      │     │  and Melton Hunt Races.                                │
 │     5│ TH  │Newbury, Monmouth, Croxton Park and Eglinton Hunt Races.│
 │     6│  F  │Derby Spring, Hooton Park, Banbury and Eglinton Hunt    │
 │      │     │  Races.                                                │
 │     7│  S  │Derby Spring, Hooton Park and Eglinton Hunt Races.      │
 │      │     │                                                        │
 │     8│ =S= │=Palm Sunday.=                                          │
 │     9│  M  │Nottingham, Hawthorn Hill and Folkestone Races.         │
 │    10│ TU  │Nottingham and Hawthorn Hill Races.                     │
 │    11│  W  │Leicester Spring, Maiden Erlegh and Grindon Hunt Races. │
 │    12│ TH  │Leicester Spring Races.                                 │
 │    13│ =F= │=Good Friday.=                                          │
 │    14│  S  │Plumpton Races.                                         │
 │      │     │                                                        │
 │    15│ =S= │=Easter Sunday.=                                        │
 │    16│  M  │Manchester, Cardiff, Torquay, Newcastle Spring,         │
 │      │     │  Portsmouth Park, Kempton Park, Hamilton Pk.,          │
 │      │     │  Birmingham, Market Rasen and Herefordshire Hunt Races.│
 │    17│ TU  │Manchester, Cardiff, Torquay and Wolverhampton Races.   │
 │      │     │  Royal Dublin Society’s Spring Show, Balls Bridge (4   │
 │      │     │  days).                                                │
 │    18│  W  │Newmarket Craven and Brocklesby Hunt Races.             │
 │    19│ TH  │Newmarket Craven, Catterick Bridge, Cowbridge and       │
 │      │     │  Hambledon Hunt Races.                                 │
 │    20│  F  │Newmarket Craven, Catterick Bridge and Royal Artillery  │
 │      │     │  (Aldershot) Races.                                    │
 │    21│  S  │Alexandra Park Races. Football Association Cup (final). │
 │      │     │                                                        │
 │    22│ =S= │=First Sunday after Easter (Low Sunday).=               │
 │    23│  M  │Southdown Hunt and Quorn Hunt Races.                    │
 │    24│ TU  │Epsom Spring, Bungay, Bridgnorth and United Border Hunt │
 │      │     │  Races.                                                │
 │    25│  W  │Epsom Spring, Bungay, Pontefract and Northumberland Hunt│
 │      │     │  Races.                                                │
 │    26│ TH  │Sandown Park, Pontefract and Ludlow Park Races.         │
 │    27│  F  │Sandown Park, Ludlow Park and Stockton Races.           │
 │    28│  S  │Sandown Park and Stockton Races.                        │
 │      │     │                                                        │
 │    29│ =S= │=Second Sunday after Easter.=                           │
 │    30│  M  │Lingfield, Hawthorn Hill and Midland Hunt (Nottingham)  │
 │      │     │  Races.                                                │
 └──────┴─────┴────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

                   WORKS BY SIR WALTER GILBEY, BART.

                   Published by VINTON & Co., London.

  Early Carriages and Roads

        In this Publication, attention has been given to the early
        history of wheeled conveyances in England and their
        development up to recent times. With Seventeen Illustrations.
        Octavo, cloth gilt, price 2s. net; post free, 2s. 4d.

  Thoroughbred and other Ponies

        With Remarks on the Height of Racehorses since 1700. Being a
        Revised and Enlarged Edition of Ponies Past and Present. With
        Ten Illustrations. Octavo, cloth gilt, price 5s. net; post
        free, 5s. 4d.

  Hunter Sires

        Suggestions for Breeding Hunters, Troopers, and General
        Purpose Horses. By I. Sir Walter Gilbey. Bart. II. Charles W.
        Tindall. III. Right Hon. Frederick W. Wrench. IV. W. T.
        Trench. Illustrated, octavo, paper covers, 6d. net; post free,
        7d.

  Riding and Driving Horses, Their Breeding and Rearing

        An Address delivered in 1885, and Discussion thereon by the
        late Duke of Westminster, Earl Carrington, Sir Nigel
        Kingscote, the late Mr. Edmund Tattersall, and others. Price
        2s. net; by post, 2s. 3d.

  Horse-Breeding in England and India, and Army Horses Abroad

        Seventeen Chapters, Horse-breeding in England; Eight Chapters,
        Horse-breeding Abroad; Thirteen pages, Horse-breeding in
        India. Nine Illustrations. Octavo, cloth, price 2s. net; by
        post, 2s. 3d.

  The Great Horse or War Horse

        From the Roman Invasion till its development into the Shire
        Horse. Seventeen Illustrations. Octavo, cloth gilt, price 2s.
        net; by post, 2s. 3d.

  The Harness Horse

        The scarcity of Carriage Horses and how to breed them. 4th
        Edition. Octavo, cloth gill, 2s. net; by post, 2s. 3d.

  Modern Carriages: Passenger Vehicles in the Victorian Era

        The passenger vehicles now in use, with notes on their origin.
        Illustrations. Octavo, cloth gilt, price 2s. net; post free,
        2s. 3d.

  Young Race Horses—suggestions

        for rearing, feeding and treatment. Twenty-two Chapters. With
        Frontispiece and Diagrams. Octavo, cloth gilt, price 2s. net;
        by post, 2s. 3d.

  Small Horses in Warfare

        Arguments in favour of their use for light cavalry and mounted
        infantry. Illustrated, 2s. net; by post, 2s. 3d.

  Horses for the Army: a suggestion

        Octavo, paper covers, 6d.; post free, 7d.

  Horses Past and Present

        A sketch of the History of the Horse in England from the
        earliest times. Nine Illustrations. Octavo, cloth gilt, 2s.
        net; by post, 2s. 3d.

  Poultry Keeping on Farms and Small Holdings

        Illustrated, octavo, cloth, 2s. net; by post, 2s. 3d.

  Animal Painters of England

        from the year 1650. Illustrated. Two vols., quarto, cloth
        gilt, Two Guineas net. Prospectus free.

  Life of George Stubbs, R.A.

        Ten Chapters. Twenty-six Illustrations and Headpieces. Quarto,
        whole Morocco, gilt, price £3 3s. net.

                          VINTON & CO., LTD.,
                   9, NEW BRIDGE STREET, LONDON, E.C.

  _Henry Hawkins_

  _Vinton & Co., Ltd., 9, New Bridge St., London, April, 1906._

  ELLIOTT & FRY PHOTO.       HOWARD & JONES, COLL.
]

                            BAILY’S MAGAZINE
                                   OF
                          SPORTS AND PASTIMES
             NO. 554.       APRIL, 1906.       VOL. LXXXV.

                               CONTENTS.

                                                                    PAGE
 Sporting Diary for the Month                                         v.
 Mr. Henry Hawkins                                                   259
 Recollections of Seventy-five Years’ Sport—II                       260
 In Memoriam—The late Captain J. T. R. Lane Fox                      265
 Spring Trout and Spring Weather                                     266
 The Towered Bird                                                    268
 Hunt “Runners”—IV. (Illustrated)                                    272
 “The Old Horse”                                                     276
 Some Novelties in the Laws of Croquet                               279
 True Fishing Stories                                                283
 A Hundred Years Ago                                                 287
 The Borzoi (Illustrated)                                            289
 Some Sport in the Transvaal in 1878                                 292
 A Song of Homage (Verses)                                           299
 Herod Blood                                                         300
 The Last of the Bitterns                                            303
 The Spring Horse Shows (Illustrated)                                305
 The Sportsman’s Library (Illustrated)                               317
 “Our Van”:—
     Racing                                                          320
     Hunting                                                         323
     Hunting in Yorkshire                                            327
     American _v._ English Foxhound Match                            329
     Breeding of Thoroughbreds                                       329
     Polo in the United States                                       330
     The M.C.C. Cricketers in South Africa                           330
     Death of Richard Humphrey                                       332
     Death of Mr. E. H. Buckland                                     333
     Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race                                  334
     Cross-country Racing                                            336
     Golf                                                            337
     “The Voysey Inheritance” at the Court Theatre                   338
 Sporting Intelligence                                               339

              WITH ENGRAVED PORTRAIT OF MR. HENRY HAWKINS.

                           Mr. Henry Hawkins.

The subject of our portrait, Mr. Henry Hawkins, of Everdon Hall, near
Daventry, was born at Kegworth, Leicestershire, in the year 1876. All
his life he has been devoted to field sports of every description, and
has played cricket seriously since he first captained the eleven of his
preparatory school at the age of ten years. Since 1901 he has played for
the county of Northamptonshire, and was one of those selected to play
against the Australians in August last; he also plays for M.C.C.,
Warwickshire Gentlemen, and other clubs.

For some years he went in for racing with no small amount of success,
owning Alpha, Hottentot, Bellamina, Stella III., and other well-known
steeplechase horses, but he has nothing in training at the present time.

It was in the year 1901 that Mr. Hawkins purchased his pack of harriers
from Mr. Horsey, and he has now hunted them at his own expense for more
than five seasons over the beautiful vale which surrounds Everdon. In
the Pytchley, as in every other country, much depends on the good-will
of the farmers, and with the farmers Mr. Hawkins is a great favourite.
He is a thorough good all-round sportsman, and is, in fact, immensely
popular with every one with whom hunting brings him into contact. He has
brought his pack, which consists of thirty couple of hounds, all in the
Stud Book, to a fine state of perfection, and has taken the highest
honours at Peterborough. Last season they accounted for more than twenty
couple of hares, and this year bid fair to exceed the average, for they
have been showing most continuous and wonderful sport.

              Recollections of Seventy-five Years’ Sport.
                                  II.

I seldom brought home a tired horse or had a fall. My good fortune in
the latter respect I attribute much to the practice adopted early in
life of riding steadily at fences other than water. Only men without
nerve go fast at their fences. One day with the Pytchley, jumping a
fence uphill, the ground broke away on the take-off, and my horse fell
back on me in the ditch. We had to be dug out. I had the misfortune to
lose a very fine horse close to Thorpe Trussels. Jumping quite a small
fence, he dropped his hind-legs in a grip on landing and broke his back.
I lost another good one (a mare) by a somewhat unusual accident.
Alighting on rotten ground over a very ordinary fence, she snapped a
fore-leg, and of course had to be destroyed.

One can take liberties with a sensible horse. In a run with the Pytchley
one day hounds crossed the Welland, and a man tried to ride over a board
footbridge. When he got to the middle one of the planks broke and he and
his horse fell into the river. Riding a horse of the sensible sort, I
gave him his head to follow; he stepped nicely across the open space,
and we had the rest of the run up to Loatland Wood to ourselves.

The Leicestershire farmers were rare good sportsmen. Once during a
gallop with Mr. Tailby’s across the oxers near Market Harborough my
horse, a young one, fell and broke the curb bit. While I was putting
matters to rights a yeoman came up, slipped off his horse, and seizing
mine by the head put his own double bridle on it, saying, “Look at my
horse, _he_ don’t want a bridle!” Certainly the horse had had enough for
one day, but the fact does nothing to qualify the kindly thought that
prompted his owner. The man was a tenant of Lord Willoughby de Broke’s;
few but a Leicestershire yeoman would have done such a thing. Another
anecdote to illustrate the same spirit:—

Riding along the Leicester and Uppingham road to draw the Billesdon
Coplow one morning, “Cap.” Tomlin, the rough rider, pulled up and
exclaimed, “Look here, gentlemen, you talk about riding; this fence (an
ox fence) has been jumped into the road.” “Yes,” said Sir Walter Carew,
“it has; and the man who jumped it is close to you.” The yeoman who
owned the land, a good friend enough to hunting, made his fences very
strong. On hearing who had jumped his ox fence he sent me a message,
saying he hoped I would never come within the parish without coming to
lunch with him. Most of the Leicestershire farmers gloried in the chase
in those days. The enthusiasm of the people for a good horse was shown
in a rather unusual way on one occasion. In a gallop up to Gumley Gorse
the fox was headed by the foot people. I happened to arrive alone, and
they seized my horse and kissed his face!

It is many years ago that our King, then Prince of Wales, while staying
at Althorp, came to the meet of the Pytchley at Holmby House. Lord
Spencer, thinking the horse His Royal Highness rode was rather too small
for the big fences, offered him a nice one of his own, which was
graciously accepted. In the course of the run the horse, to Lord
Spencer’s horror, came down. The Prince, however, was up in a twinkling,
and regaining his saddle was going again well in front, to the great
delight of the Northamptonshire farmers.

Lord Cardigan was a very bold rider, and got some heavy falls. In a
gallop with Sir Richard Sutton from Walton Holt, I jumped the white
locked gate on Gumley Hill, and had the run to myself. Lord Cardigan and
Colonel Steel, of the Guards, had very bad falls. Lord Cardigan told me
afterwards that the whole front of his body was as black as coal. On
another day, near the same place, he had a nasty fall in a ditch, his
horse lying on him. Lord William Beresford, seeing his plight, stopped,
and called on the Hon. and Rev. Robert Wilson to come and help,
shouting, “He is not half a bad fellow, and it would be a pity if he
died in a ditch.” They got to work, but Beresford found he could not get
hold of Cardigan, and said so. “Pull me out by the nose if you like,”
said the victim. The water was trickling over him, and without help it
is very probable that he would have been drowned in the ditch.

_Apropos_ of falls, there was a little man with a very wry neck who used
to bring some nice horses to hunt in Leicestershire. One day he had a
fall, and was stunned. There were plenty of people at hand to help, and
one man, who did not know him, took him by the head and began to pull at
it in the kindly but mistaken endeavour to straighten his neck. This
usage brought the poor man to his senses just in time. “Born so! Born
so!” he exclaimed, feebly. Another pull would have broken his neck.

Among the good runs I call to mind are two in which, thanks to my horse,
I had the fun all to myself. One was a splendid gallop across the Vale
of Dunchurch without a check to ground on Barley Hill in the Pytchley
country. I was entirely alone with the pack; and the field were so long
coming up that I went home before any one arrived. It was several days
before they discovered who it was had been with the hounds.

Another fine run was with the Cottesmore, when the hounds ran their fox
without a check to mark him to ground in Horninghold Lordship, quite out
of sight of the field. The earth being in the Quorn country, the fox had
to be left.

When I lived in the Atherstone country I had a small stick covert at
Bitteswell, a very sure find. Anstruther Thomson said I had made it too
strong, but I told him it was my business to have a fox and his to get
him out. As a matter of fact, foxes never hung there, though they seldom
afforded good runs; the old foxes used to lie out in the hedgerows.

I told Jack that he would have better sport if he hunted the country
thoroughly. He enquired what I considered would be “hunting it
thoroughly,” and on my saying, “Drawing it blank,” he replied that he
would draw me blank next season. I said I should be ready for him.

He came once a fortnight—no blanks.

The truth was, I had three earths, one natural and two artificial, and
Jack never found out the latter. I always stopped the one most used, and
put the others to in the morning. The last day of that season I stopped
all three, which rather confused him and his hounds. This covert was
very full of rabbits, which were caught in a pitfall, one side of it
being wired in. I have known a fox to be caught in it.

One day, when hounds drew my stick covert, I lost my usual good start,
as I was looking after the foot people. There was a good scent over the
grass, and hounds ran hard, but being on a very fast horse I soon got up
to them. Just in front of me a youth was going well till he came to a
rough fence with daylight in only one place, where an ash tree had been
cut down. His horse slipped on the roots and turned over into the ditch
on the other side, heels uppermost. “For goodness sake,” he cried, when
I asked him to let me come, “don’t ride over my horse.” There was no
help for it; my horse cleared the inverted animal nicely, and I went on
with hounds.

The young gentleman, however, thought he had a grievance, and, when the
fox was killed, reported me to his uncle.

The uncle was a near neighbour of mine, and a good sportsman. He told me
that his nephew over night had been “crabbing” the Atherstone men as the
slowest set in all England, and thanked me for what I had done. “He will
have a different tale to tell to-night,” he concluded.

In a run with the Pytchley a lady following me had a fall; hounds were
running hard, but as she did not get out of the ditch I felt bound to go
and help her. As I got near she jumped on to her horse, and I asked what
she had been about. She said, “I don’t mind telling you, my hair came
off.” She had beautiful hair of her own, and added the plaits which were
commonly worn in those days.

In the Northampton race week there was a very early meet with the
Pytchley at Cottesbrooke. The same lady came up to me and said, “I
reckon you will get a good start this morning.” I said, “Yes,
certainly,” and that with the wind where it was we should have to cross
the stream, which was unjumpable. There was a bridle-gate in the middle
of the ford, and I told her I meant to be in first, and if she was close
up would hold the gate open for her. When we reached the gate I looked
round; she was there, but without her hat. “Dear me, Mrs. A.,” I said,
“What have you done with your hat?” “Lost it following you under that
tree; and if this sort of thing goes on I shall soon lose my head,” she
responded. The acting master, the Hon. C. Cust, made a turban for her
out of his neck wrapper, and she hunted in it the rest of the day. The
gate in the ford became blocked, and we had an enjoyable gallop.

If there was nice hunting weather at Assize time there was often
difficulty in collecting a grand jury, and the judges threatened to fine
us. Going to the meet one morning I fell in with a pompous old neighbour
who was on his way to Assizes, and asked him, if my name should be
called, to respectfully address the judge, and say that I regretted my
non-attendance. “Some domestic affliction, no doubt,” said his lordship,
and he passed me over, and fined several others.

One London season I took up a pretty young horse; he was always full of
vitality and a pleasant mount in the country, but not suited to Rotten
Row, as he used to strike with his fore-feet at other horses cantering
towards him and frightened several young ladies. He seemed just the
horse for a charger. I offered him to a vet, who had a commission to buy
a chestnut horse for an officer, telling him he was more suited to a
younger man than myself. He went on nicely for a while, and became the
crack horse of the regiment. The day of inspection arrived. As he was
passing the general at the head of his troop, with the view of making a
proper display on the solemn occasion his rider touched him with the
spur. He plunged violently, and hoisting his heels exuberantly, cast his
rider at the feet of the general, amid the applause of the assembled
multitude.

It was in 1831 that I bought the small pack of pure harriers kept at
Shotesham. I hunted them for about twenty-five years at my own expense,
and then sold them to the Earl of Albemarle and Colonel Unthank. The
latter crossed the lot he purchased with the foxhound, and in my opinion
spoilt them. I kept as clear of foxhound blood as I could, having only
one or two old bitches from Sir Thomas Boughey all the time I hunted
them. They were fast, but close hunters; mine was the silent system,
rarely going to halloas, and the hounds were not too closely whipped in;
extra work was the cure for unruly ones instead of whipcord. They were a
capital working lot, and a good hare had not much chance if I wanted to
kill her. The country is flat, consequently the hares made better points
than they do where there are hills. They were scarce but stout, as only
those that outstripped the greyhounds and lurchers were left alive in
the greater part of my country.

At Sexton Wood, a fine covert hired by some farmers for shooting, a fox
was constantly seen. One February, when the shooting season was over, I
went to look for him. A large field was out, some in scarlet from
Suffolk. I was a little chaffed, the men asking what I was going to do
with the fox. I said I would make him ask for mercy before sunset, or,
if the wind had anything to do with it, perhaps hunt him on to the top
of one of their houses. As the wood was full of hares I had the fox
driven out by men. He went away directly, but was headed back into the
wood. I trotted to the other end at about the pace I thought he would
travel, and he broke again near me. I got a good start with him up wind,
and ran hard for a mile and a half, when he turned down wind; first
check, thirty-five minutes. He ran down the middle ride of Earsham Wood
with hares constantly crossing, but not a hound left the line. He
crossed the river Waveney into Suffolk, was headed in Flixton Park, and
turned back up wind over grass to the Waveney, fox and hounds all
swimming the river together, and got into a boathouse. I waited till the
field arrived, and they asked me if I had done with their fox. I told
them to look in the boathouse, where the fox was hiding in the boat.
They wanted me to kill him, but I refused, and had him turned into a
coppice close by. After releasing the fox I asked the field to come and
see hounds run a hare, as I must kill one to steady them for another
day. They told me there was a splendid hare close by, often hunted by
Mr. Chaston. As I was some miles out of my own country, I felt a
difficulty about hunting her; but as they promised no harm should come
of it, I gave way. As we entered the field she ran out at the far end;
the hounds settled at once, and killed and ate her in twenty-one
minutes. The field were well satisfied. They wanted me to keep some
foxhounds, and I said I would if they would promise me foxes, which they
failed to do.

I had several first-class gallops after outlying stags, almost always
running up to them, but not trying to take them.

You ask about my shooting recollections. I have repeatedly killed 40,
50, and once over 60 couples of snipe on the Langley Marshes, by the
side of the River Yare. In August, 1846, with Mr. Everard, of Gosberton,
I killed 164 brace of grouse, and on the 27th of that month 103 brace by
myself. As regards the match between Mr. Stirling Crawfurd and Mr.
Osbaldeston, I “managed” for the former, Sir Richard Sutton performed
the same office for the “Squire,” as he was called.

The match came off at Rufford Abbey, between the two Newmarket October
meetings. Stirling Crawfurd gave him ten brace of partridges each day,
on account of his being somewhat older. They shot two days, changing
beats the second day. They tossed for choice of beats, both of which
were good, but one not so good as the other. I won the toss and took the
worst beat for the first day. Shooting began at eight o’clock, and the
men shot till dark. We were beaten by a few brace on the first day, but
on the second Crawfurd won the match by several brace to spare.
Osbaldeston wanted to shoot it over again for a larger sum, on the
condition they changed managers. Crawfurd was to walk all day, and
Osbaldeston, if he liked, to ride; no driving. Sir Richard had some of
the Duke of Rutland’s keepers, from Derbyshire, and some of his own
keepers from Lynford, and his whippers-in from Quorn. He overdid it. I
had only the head keeper’s son and walkers off the Rufford estate. Mr.
Crawfurd gave the value of the stakes among them.

My pointers were bred from two animals given me when I was at college,
by the then Lord Lonsdale, from his and another kennel, crossed with Mr.
Moore’s, of Appleby. When I gave them up I sold every dog I had to the
late Lord Wilton for £25 apiece.

Harking back to my athletic days when at college, I once jumped Mr.
Rhodes, of Trinity, a match over water by the side of Trumpington Road
and beat him. I believe, but am not quite sure, that my opponent was the
father of the famous Cecil Rhodes.

When at Melton, years ago, Count Hugo Nostitz asked me to jump a match.
Six jumps, each to choose three, and go first. If he did not clear it
the other not to follow on. First jump both got over. I cleared all of
Nostitz’s choosing. My second was the Melton Brook, with mud thrown out
on the far side; I cleared brook and mud. Nostitz cleared the brook,
but, to save falling back, had to put his arms up to his elbows in the
black mud. My third pick was the brook again with a rail in front of it.
The late Lord Lonsdale, mischievously inclined, told Nostitz to jump
high enough (the worst advice he could give). He cleared the rail well,
but alighted up to his armpits in the water.

Once he had rather a bad fall with hounds. We went to help him, as he
did not get up, and asked him if he was much hurt. He said, “No, only a
little more than usual.” He tried to get up, but could not for a while.
He was as charming a young fellow as ever entered the town.

                                                        ROBERT FELLOWES.

                              In Memoriam.
                  THE LATE CAPTAIN J. T. R. LANE FOX.

A sportsman has been taken from amongst us last month in the person of
Captain J. T. R. Lane Fox, the Master of the Bramham Moor Hounds, who
could ill be spared; and in whose memory it is fitting that a few words
should be said in your pages.

Captain Lane Fox was the second son of the late Mr. George Lane Fox, for
many years master of the Bramham Moor pack, whose strong personality
gave him a foremost place in Yorkshire and throughout the world of
sport, as well as among English country gentlemen. Captain Lane Fox had
therefore handed down to him a heritage of no mean character, when he
succeeded his father ten years ago.

Having acted as his father’s deputy in the hunting field for the last
few seasons of the old Squire’s life, his transition to the mastership
came almost as a matter of course, and was universally welcomed by the
most loyal set of sportsmen that we are acquainted with. Few such
elegant yet determined horsemen are to be found nowadays as was the late
Dick Lane Fox (as his familiars delighted to call him). From the day he
left Eton and joined the Grenadier Guards, serving in Canada and riding
many races and steeplechases there, until, on his retirement from the
army, he settled down, on his marriage, in the confines of Bramham Park
as his father’s right-hand man, he was the idol of all his friends and
neighbours.

Unfortunately, he had experienced a bad fall whilst in Canada, which
told upon his health and constitution ever afterwards. Indeed, this
would have been the cause of banishing many less ardent sportsmen
altogether from the hunting field, yet with the subject of our memoir it
was not so. There were times when I have witnessed with admiration the
pluck with which he seemed to triumph over his constitutional weakness.
It was then a treat to see him go to hounds; such a superb seat, hands,
and judgment as his made him conspicuous even in a large hard-riding
field like the Bramham, and demonstrated his superb talents as a
sportsman. It may well be said of Dick Lane Fox that from old Eton days,
when I first enjoyed his friendship, down to the sad event of last
month, that he never made an enemy but cemented many a friendship. He
had above all a natural aversion to obtrusiveness, which prevented him
often from doing himself justice; yet the shrewd, true-hearted
Yorkshiremen knew him too well not to appreciate him as a country
gentleman as well as a sportsman. He lived to see his eldest son George
take his place in the hunting field in a way that he could not fail to
be proud of; the veritable likeness of his grandfather; and beyond this,
in spite of one defeat, he rejoiced to see him elected as M.P. for the
Barkston Division of Yorkshire, after as big a fight as ever aroused the
political feelings of that district.

Mrs. Lane Fox was a Milmay, of excellent sporting blood, and a devoted
wife, who survives him, so that on both sides of the family the present
inheritor of Bramham (one of the finest estates in broad Yorkshire)
combines the makings of all that is best in the life of a country
gentleman and a sportsman.

Personally I mourn, in conjunction with innumerable others, over the
loss of a life-long friend, yet our sadness is tempered by the glad
reflection that such an unsullied name, such a bright example, and such
an ennobling compeer, should have gone to his rest so peaceably, and
have left behind him a splendid well cared-for estate, and a descendant
in every way worthy of upholding the fame of Bramham and its famous “25
couple,” and likely to fill yet another niche in the temple of fame
amongst Yorkshire worthies.

                                                               BORDERER.

                    Spring Trout and Spring Weather.

Surely the spring trout-fisher is the most hopeful of all the sanguine
and long-suffering brotherhood! How many bitter disappointments and how
much bitter weather is required to convince one spring fly-fisher that
he had better defer his attempts at sport till the blizzards are over?

Last spring was no worse than usual, but the feel of that cutting east
wind still haunts my dreams, and, worse than all, the trout taken were
both fewer and smaller than in the previous July on the same water.

Two days only out of six were really good, and even then the trout,
though numerous and lively, averaged but little over the quarter of a
pound. Certainly they took the blue upright with a will, and did not
require much stalking, and now and then a nice half-pounder gave a
really satisfactory bit of sport.

I see by my diary that the “coch y bondu” was almost as successful as
the “blue upright,” and that dry-fly fishing was nearly useless so early
in the season, though fish could often be seen rising on the smooth
glides. Sometimes not a fin could be stirred for hours, so that one had
plenty of leisure to note the exceptional beauty of the budding woods,
and to listen to all the love-notes of the birds. When sport is lively
all these things are only dimly felt, as heightening enjoyment. When
trout are sulky, then we feel the difference between the silence and
comparative gloom of late summer woods, and the joyous choruses of early
spring; and nowhere is this more marked than among the lovely sylvan
scenes on the banks of Somerset streams.

Among other advantages, water is generally plentiful and not too clear.
In the wild uplands on the borders of the moor the bushes and brambles
which line the streams are not yet developed into the impenetrable
thickets that bar one’s progress in the summer, and many a spot then
unfishable, even with the aid of waders, can now be reached at small
cost of scratches.

I must confess that these inner sanctuaries did not yield me many
victims, my basket on the day I went up the hills being the lightest of
the week, and the fish the smallest.

Nevertheless, I think the Horner Woods stream, near Porlock, a charming
spot, and worth another trial; for adverse winds may have been
responsible for the poor sport. It is easy, I believe, for the
fly-fisher to get leave on this water, and it is within a mile or two of
Porlock. I cycled from Washford, the other side of Minehead, and found
it a delightful ride. I think all anglers will find a cycle convenient
in this district, as roads are fairly good, and distances from stream to
stream often considerable. It is rather monotonous to fish one stream
continually, and the change of scene and novel exercise heighten one’s
pleasure. It also enables the angler to choose more comfortable quarters
than might always be obtainable close to the fishing; for a run of a
mile or two is of hardly any consequence, and it is not always that such
rooms as were secured for us (within the precincts of Cleve Abbey) can
be had.

This old ruin is close to the stream, and can be examined by the
wandering angler at very little cost either of time or money. It is well
worth a visit. Washford is the station, but it is within an easy ride of
Minehead, where comfortable rooms and good attendance can always be had,
and from whence excursions, by coach and boat, are continually going on
to many of the loveliest parts of Somerset and Devon.

One disappointment experienced during this spring visit was perhaps not
due to the time of year. A large and deep pool, formed by the stream
right down on the seashore, had sometimes yielded capital sport in July,
fish being large and plentiful, though very shy. Some shifting of the
sands had now greatly reduced its depth, and the trout had almost
deserted it, only two half-pounders falling to my flies. Last year
several of the fish taken here were ¾ lb. or more, and the novelty of
landing good trout (and not sea-trout) on the sands added to the charm.
I have only done so once before, and that was hundreds of miles away, at
the mouth of Crocket’s celebrated “Skyreburn,” in the north.

As it is possible that this sea-pool may have improved again this
spring, I advise any angler who finds himself near to give it a careful
trial, especially if there is a strong wind blowing; for this greatly
increases one’s chances. Curiously enough, a little black gnat is the
best fly here, but it is worth while to try larger flies if weather is
rough. I think that many of the mouths of trout-streams might be fished
carefully with good effect, the trout being often larger and better fed
than those in the stream itself. Probably they often go a little way out
to sea, and get shrimps, &c., in certain states of the tide. At the
worst it is a pleasant change to cast a long line over broad water,
after being somewhat cramped and hampered in a narrow and much bushed
stream. It must be remembered that permission is required from the local
landowners for these parts of the streams, as well as for the upper
waters.

                                                         J. PAUL TAYLOR.

                           The Towered Bird.

For upwards of twenty years it has been asserted that no towered bird
has been hit only in the head. It has become quite an article of faith
with some people that every towered bird is stifled by wounds or blood
in the organs of respiration. Quite lately it has been stated that it
has often been said that towering has been caused by a shot on the head,
but that this is never the case.

The writer has often fallen into this supposed error himself, and has
gone very fully into the subject. It is not only a very interesting
question in itself, but one that sportsmen should not be misled about.
At the last retriever trials there was reported to be a “towered bird,”
and upon the dog being sent for it a field away he found it quickly, but
the towered bird rose again and flew away, followed by the keeper’s
remark, that it was “a very lively dead bird.”

This shows that not all keepers are aware that towerers are not always
dead birds when they fall; for this keeper was surprised when the
towerer rose again; but I noticed that the judges were quite satisfied
that the escaped partridge was identical with “the towerer.” They did
not set the dog to hunt again, but turned their backs on the scene of
action, and credited the dog (which happened to win the stake) with the
find.

That bird had been hit in the head, not in the lungs, and he towered in
consequence. If he had been also wounded in the lungs he would have died
at the apex of his flight—they always do. It may be asked how I know
this, and my reply must be that I know it from the examination of many
towered birds of different kinds. Of course, I make no claim to be
telling experienced sportsmen anything they do not know already. I am
well aware that very many do know it, because I have gone out of my way
to ask them; but I think there is occasion for dealing fully with a
subject that has been misunderstood for twenty years.

This being so, I propose to glance, briefly, at the varying behaviour of
game when struck in different parts of the body; and this seems to be
all the more necessary, as wrong information is sure to cause many a
fruitless search, much loss of time, and perhaps some muttered thunder
directed against the supposed Ananias who saw the bird tower.

Young shooters are often confident that a towered bird is dead, and can
be picked up if looked for long enough. Probably they have read it, and
have confirmed the statement with a few observations of their own. The
partridge that is struck in the head usually falls at once, whether the
shot has actually pierced the brain or not, but this is by no means
invariable, as I have suggested above.

The several kinds of towerers behave as follows: A rap on the head from
a glancing shot may or may not damage the sight, but if it does not
completely stun the bird he will rise up and tower from the place where
the shot struck him; his is usually a very strong flight, and he is
likely to fly a good way, towering all the time, until the loss of
strength forces him to come down; he will not collapse at the apex of
his flight, but as he falls continue to beat his wings, more or less
slowly, nearly or quite to the ground. When he reaches the earth he may
die, or he may sit muffled up in a dazed condition. Generally he can be
approached and killed with a stick, but sometimes he will have a blind
side and a wideawake one; and it is not difficult to approach him by
selecting his dark side. In no case is such a bird likely to fly until
his enemy is within a yard or two of him. Often he makes no attempt to
save his own life, and many times I have allowed a retriever to pick up
such a bird, having the gun ready in case of his blunder. On several
occasions, probably not more than three, the towered bird on being
disturbed has _towered again_; but generally if he is able to fly at all
he is able to see where he is going to and to get away. Many birds of
this kind have no shot in them whatever, as I have proved by
_post-mortem_ examination; others have proved the same thing by being as
lively as ever upon being approached. Once, a few years ago, when a
controversy on this subject raged, X-ray photographs of three towerers
were published, but shot pellets could only be traced in two of them,
and consequently both sides claimed the victory. It is very likely that
laboratory examination never will find a shot pellet in the head of a
towerer, but that only proves that when a shot _enters_ the head it is
generally enough to bring the bird down at once. It is quite another
matter when a shot pellet strikes the head and does not _enter_. Then
the state of towering is frequently instantly produced.

This kind of wound, then, may be recognised by the towering of the bird
from the instant it was struck, also by some movement in its wings in
descent, and lastly, by its attitude of squatting when found upon the
ground.

A bird struck in the lungs or stifled by blood in the windpipe behaves
very differently. On receiving the shot it generally, but not always,
drops its legs as if they were broken; that will generally prove not to
have been the case. Then it flies on, from fifty to five hundred yards,
with nothing apparently the matter, except the dropped legs, then it
suddenly begins to rise or tower. This towering appears from the
shooter’s position in the rear, and far behind, to be straight up, but
that is optical deception, caused by the position of the shooter
directly in the rear. The angle of elevation is really about the same as
that of the head-struck bird, although, as the latter rises from only
forty or fifty yards away, his angle of elevation looks more oblique
than that of the bird a quarter of a mile away.

The stifled bird rises in spite of the fact that his head does not point
upwards like that of a pheasant rising to top the trees. The partridge
rises without any appearance of change of angle in his body, and when he
reaches the apex he does not turn over backwards, as has been said of
him, but starts to fall from the position of ordinary horizontal flight.
You will generally find him dead upon his back, but the reason of this
is that the resistance of his outstretched wings in falling turns him
over, and they cease to resist the air when he is on his back. It is a
case of movement in the direction of least resistance.

A bird which is brought down instantly by a shot in the head generally
jumps about or flaps his wings when on the ground; one would think that
he could not do this if he was entirely unconscious, but if he has any
degree of consciousness the head-struck towerer must have very much
more, just as the stifling bird has, so there must be many degrees of
semiconsciousness in wounded partridges.

It very often happens that the most experienced will mistake the dead
bird’s fall for that of a runner, and a runner’s for that of a dead
bird, but the latter is less frequent. The runner generally flaps a wing
as he falls, shows the white of the other one and holds his head up; but
all these signs taken together do not prove him to be a runner, because
he may have had a lung shot as well, and then he will die upon the
ground. Again, a runner may deceive in the other way, he will sometimes
fall as if unconscious and then recover and run away. The runner which
is just wing-tipped and can fly a long way, sinking slightly until he
touches the ground, will not fly again, but generally proves to be a
very strong pedestrian indeed.

Several different kinds of hits cause birds to drop their legs
instantly, and I fancy that when this happens they are always found
where they fall, near or far. The most common of these is the lung-shot
bird, then there is the back-broken bird, which does the same, and may
also be known by the wobble of his flight—an up-and-down movement, like
a boat in a heavy sea. Then there is the leg-broken bird which is likely
enough to fly again, but not to run, that day at least. A broken-legged
bird generally only has one leg down, whereas a dead bird generally
drops both, no matter how far he is to fly before he dies. I think a
bird very seldom bleeds to death from a shot wound in the neck vein, but
probably this must happen sometimes. I am inclined to think that when
the only wound is in the blood-vessels of the neck the bird would fly so
far, losing blood all the way; that when he was picked up the cause of
death would not be recognised, and I think this is the reason why this
kind of wound is so seldom seen. It does not follow that it infrequently
occurs.

A shot which breaks the spinal cord is as instantaneous in effect as one
which enters the brain, and brings the bird down at once, but not with
what is called a broken neck, for I never saw a broken neck in grouse,
partridge, or pheasant, unless the keepers had wilfully done it in order
to kill a wounded bird. It is a very bad plan to kill any game this way,
and especially grouse, for without the bone of the neck to suspend them
on the stick the weight often causes the body to drop and be lost in the
heather. The skin alone is not strong enough to carry, at any rate, the
young birds, especially when boys drag their feet and bodies through the
tall heather.

It has been said that the reason partridges “tower” is that they are
obliged to lift their heads upwards in order to get their breath, and
that their bodies follow where their heads point. This can hardly be the
reason, because we have two kinds of “towerers” to deal with, and
besides, many a blackcock on taking wing and going away horizontally,
nevertheless holds up his head and looks at his disturber over his back,
but he does not go upwards in consequence. I do not believe that the
upward flight is caused either by any rudder-like action of the tail,
although that is, perhaps, possible.

Probably the wings are so set by Nature that their beats not only
counteract gravity, but something more than this, and it possibly
requires the will of the bird in steering to make him keep a horizontal
course. The concave undersurface offers more resistance to the air than
the upper convex surface. Hitherto I have considered that this
arrangement was meant to negative gravity when the bird was urging its
forward course, but when one remembers that young birds with half the
power of flight of the old ones nevertheless can rise quite easily, and
seem to maintain a horizontal course quite comfortably—that is, their
inferior wings in ordinary up-and-down beats are equal to the resistance
of gravity—consequently, it appears almost certain that the ordinary
beats of better wings are much more than equal to the resisting of
gravity. Or, in other words, if partridges in a state of health did not
wilfully hug the ground they would rise up like “towered” birds.

I wonder whether this is the reason that day birds (which appear to
migrate in their sleep, and certainly cannot travel by night at any
other time than when the instinct is upon them) migrate at great
altitudes. That is to say, whether they go up because they cannot help
it. If so, there would be a certain altitude for each kind of bird where
the wing beats influence, on the more rarified air, in sending the bird
up, and the lessened power of gravity, would become equal, and at that
altitude the bird would travel forward without the will being called
into request to keep a horizontal course. Balloonists tell us that at
great heights birds thrown out fall like stones, so that there must be
an altitude where ordinary wing action ceases to overcome gravity. In
any case the partridge goes upward, whether either head or lungs deprive
him of part of his senses, probably of all the sense of direction except
that one of keel downwards, that no bird ever seems to lose as long as
he is alive.

Another reason for believing that the natural up-and-down wing beats
would take any healthy bird upwards as well as forwards is to be found
in the necessity of the moult. If the full wing beats only kept the
horizontal course then it would probably happen that the loss of a
single flight feather would have the effect that gravity would gradually
overcome the horizontal tendency and pull the bird downwards; but that
does not appear to be true, and this is additional reason for believing
that the up-and-down wing beats with a horizontal keel much more than
overcome gravity, and that consequently when a bird cannot direct its
own course it goes upwards, because it is built to do so, and to
overcome the downward drag of gravity by the mere up-and-down wing
action and a level “keel.”

                                                 G. T. TEASDALE BUCKELL.

                            Hunt “Runners.”
                                  IV.
                     BUTLER OF THE NORTH COTSWOLD.

There are few more picturesque hunting scenes than the country around
the Cotswold Hills in the fair county of Worcestershire, which is hunted
by Mr. Charles McNeill and his famous pack of Belvoir-bred bitches. This
Eden of foxhunting is a much sought after possession, wild and rugged
with variety of scene on hill and dale, pasture and woodland. It has
often been said that farmers are the backbone of foxhunting, and these
Worcestershire sportsmen, bred and born to it, are a community whose
fame for staunchness to sport is known far and wide. The majority of
them, or their sons, ride to hounds, and wire is practically unknown in
their country, whilst foxes are preserved as they ought to be, the best
of good feeling prevailing between sport and agriculture. All the same,
we did not expect to find a farmer in the capacity of runner to the
hunt.

Many countries are going begging for a master, but not so the North
Cotswold, which has been so successfully presided over by Mr. Charles
McNeill for the past five seasons, the announcement of whose retirement
was received with universal regret. When it became known there was a
vacancy for next season, twenty-two applicants for the mastership came
before the Hunt Committee; showing how hunting men appreciated a
community of farmers who plump solid for sport. Sir John Hume Campbell
is to be congratulated that he has been chosen to succeed Mr. McNeill.

Butler, the runner to the Hunt, wearing the cap and scarlet coat of
office, is a typical Worcestershire dairy farmer. Born in the Heythrop
country close by, he has followed the hounds on foot for the past twenty
years, which occupies the reign of three masterships—Mr. Algernon
Rushout, Captain Cyril Stacey and Mr. Charles McNeill. Before that time
he had five years in the saddle making young horses, “hunting oftener
than his master did,” as he put it, and a coachman’s place for six
months in the heart of Birmingham was the last straw that compelled him
to give up domestic service, and take to the wild, free life of a
runner, with farming as a mainstay. On a hunting morning Butler is up
before daybreak to get his cows milked, pigs and poultry attended to, so
that the institution of a bicycle to ride the long distances to and from
covert has been a great saving of time and exertion.

Our first sight of the North Cotswold Hunt in the field was at a
picturesque fixture, Cheevering Green, in the hill district, and there
we made Butler’s acquaintance when he stood holding open the gate as
horsemen drew up from far and near. A middle-aged man, with a dash of
grey in his side whiskers, and keen, penetrating brown eyes, foxhunting
is written in every line of a face evidently intended by Nature for a
hunting cap. Sporting the primrose collar of the Hunt, and the coronet
on his button dating back to Lord Coventry’s mastership, Butler, with
his sturdy black and white terrier, makes a pleasing adjunct to a Hunt
which is appointed in Leicestershire style. There is no gainsaying the
fact that the countryside appreciates a Hunt that is well found in all
departments, and a scarlet coat is still a passport which will admit its
wearer where others would be less welcome. It was the late Duke of
Beaufort who used to say that every man who goes hunting ought to pay
the chase the compliment by putting on his best clothes, even if it be
his Sunday suit. Though the North Cotswold is a Hunt far distant from
Leicestershire, yet Mr. McNeill has aimed at perfection in every
department, and by doing so won everybody’s gratitude; for, after all,
the pomp and pageantry of the chase tends to its popularity in a marked
degree, which more sterling qualities can hardly boast. When the
Master-huntsman rode up in the middle of his pack of seventeen and a
half couple of bitches there was a cheery word all round, and expectancy
which preludes a good day’s sport. As usual, the Hunt runner had a quiet
word for the ear of the Master, news of an outlying fox which a
neighbouring farmer had viewed every morning for the last week. These
North Cotswold bitches, for Mr. McNeill has no doghounds in his pack,
have done well this season, killing seventy-two foxes up to the middle
of January, in a country that is fourteen miles long and eight miles
wide in the middle, being a good deal less top and bottom. All Belvoir
in colour and type, they are triumphs of breeding, proving their worth
by winning prizes on the flags at Peterborough, and golden opinions in
the field, where they are remarkable for tongue and drive, a pack that
mean catching their fox at the end of a gallop. Mr. McNeill is a
Leicestershire man, who acquired the greater part of his skill as a
huntsman studying the methods of Tom Firr, and he is as quick as
lightning, inspiring hounds and followers with confidence.

For the first draw we commenced hill-climbing to the larch plantations
up above, an experience that made one appreciate the sagacity of a
well-trained hunter.

These hill districts must require a considerable amount of stopping
before a day’s hunting, but it is not a duty now performed by the
runner. Butler’s mission is to bolt the foxes when they get to ground,
and for this he receives half-a-crown on every successful occasion.
Years ago he carried a big, white buck-ferret, and worked him on a line
when foxes sought the shelter of stone drains. Unfortunately, the ferret
came to an untimely end; making a hole in the bag in which he was being
conveyed home one wet night, he escaped and, perishing of cold, was
found dead next morning.

From the hill-top we were rewarded with a beautiful view of a
far-stretching panorama of country in the vale beneath, and quickly the
sonorous music of the big-framed bitches lent enchantment to the scene.
A second or two later the whipper-in’s silver whistle was ringing out
the glad “Gone away,” and Butler, with a smile of satisfaction on his
face, was holding up his cap; there were no confusing halloas. Though
the North Cotswold country is anything but a good scenting one, except
when there is a bite of east in the wind, the bitches rattled their fox
out of covert, and keeping his head up wind as they slipped down into
the vale, spread-eagled their field in a hunt of thirty minutes to the
Croome country on the opposite hillside. It was a ride full of new
experiences, giving us, alas, but a distant view of the Master and
hounds as they skimmed over the stone walls that divide the seventy-acre
pastures. A rain-cloud blotted us out at the finish, enveloping the
hillside in a dense wall of fog, robbing the pack at a critical moment
of well-earned blood.

  WITH THE NORTH COTSWOLD.
]

Stone-wall jumping is a characteristic of the North Cotswold country,
and it is surprising how well hounds’ legs and feet stand the trial,
proving the worth of good bone and breeding, which, like first-class
machinery, can go at the highest pressure and last. In the vale there is
a beautiful line of grass with upstanding fences, equal to anything to
be found in Leicestershire, so that a hunt is seen under all sorts of
conditions, and a pack that can do well here is fit for any country.

Talking of runs brings up a wealth of reminiscences, for it is a
district in which the keenest interest is taken in the doings of hounds
by the non-hunting fraternity, who are sportsmen to the very core. To
set the runner and his friends talking hunting is like putting a match
to gunpowder, and two brilliant bursts we noted down would make the
fortune of a season’s sport. Finding a fox near Hyatt’s Spinney, the
bitches, with tuneful chorus, drove him along into the open country of
large acred fields surrounded by stone walls. There was a burning scent,
and so good was the pace that hounds could keep their fox travelling up
wind, whilst Mr. McNeill was viewing nearly the whole of the journey in
a hunt of twenty minutes.

It was a regular Belvoir burst, and the pilot had to go straight in the
race for his life, losing no time over the walls, he ran up the middle
of each field in a desperate effort to gain on his pursuers. Such a high
state of tension could not last for long, and the huntsman at last saw
the fox miss his footing at a stone wall and fall back from distress.
Though the mistake only made a matter of a few seconds, it cost a
gallant fox his life, for before he could clear in a second attempt, a
bitch called Housemaid dashed up, and seizing hold of his brush, pulled
him back, but herself went over the wall, where she lay, knocked out. An
electrifying cheer from the master put a finish to the fastest burst of
this season, under the wall near Springhill.

Another good gallop this season, both from a thruster’s point of view as