'""""■ ' '" ' ' "' "'IIhound

IIRMAN PEEPw

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND

MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID

THE

HUNTING FIELD

WITH HORSE AND HOUND

in America^ the British Isles
and France

BY

FRANK SHERMAN PEER

Illustrated from paintings by

JULIAN INGERSOLL CHAMBERLAIN

and from photographs

MITCHELL KENNERLEY
NEW YORK MCMX

Copyright igio by
Mitchell Kennerley

TO MY SON SHERAIJ.X

WITH FOND RECOLLECTIONS OF GLORIOUS

DAYS IFE HAVE ENJOYED TOGETHER

HUNTING, SHOOTING, YACHTING

AND BOATING

CONTENTS

Preface

PART I

HUNTING IN AMERICA

I Fox Hunting in America 17

History of fox hunting — Introduction of English fox-
hounds— Private packs — Brunswick Fur Club — The Nor-
folk— The Middlesex — The Meadowbrook — The War-
renion country — The Rose Tree Hunt

II Fox Hunting in the Sunny South 3J

Hunting dogs in the South — Politics and fox hunting —
Visiting a Southern plantation — A Southern sportsman of
the old school — Jim

III A North Carolina Fox Hunt by Moonlight 43
The meet — A little gossip on the way to covert — Bcfo'
the wah — Jim's account of the chase — Old Rastus — The
glory of Old Ginger — A mint julep

jvi31 r^006

ii Contents

PAGE

IV Fox Hunting in New England 56

Uncle Abner — A genuine sportsman of the real old sort —
Two famous bird dogs — A sail — Shooting the fox —
Apples and cider

V With Horse and Hounds on the Western Plains 65
Jack Rabbit — Coyote and wolf hunting — The sporting
parson — Western ways — A thoroughbred sportsman

VI Jack Rabbit Hunting with Greyhounds 72

"In the beginning" — Messrs. Bartel Brothers' famous
pack — The most beautiful dog show on earth — Coyote
hunting at Colorado Springs

VII Coyote Hunting on the Plains of Colorado 83

The great plains at sunrise — Ranch life — The antelope
chase — The old cattleman — A good shot — The ride of
the tenderfoot — Roping a coyote

VIII The Genesee Valley 97

The valley itself — Nature of the land hunted over — The
natives — Why they love the valley — A visit to the kennels

IX A Day with the Genesee Valley Hounds 109

The meet at Belwood— The Hunt breakfast — The
Covert — Seven Gullies — Who-whoop

X Hunting in Canada 117

Plenty of sport — Our neighbours — A Canadian sports-
man— Yachting — The Toronto Hunt Club — Women
riders — A sportsman's paradise

Contents ix

PAGE

PART II
HUNTING IN THE BRITISH ISLES

XI Hunting in England 125

Packs of hounds — HuntiriE Centres — Cost — Grass
countries — Racing packs— Foxes — Where to go — National
characteristics

XII A Day with the Belvoir Foxhounds 136

The Peacock Inn — Belvoir Castle — Belvoir Kennels-
Noted huntsmen — Perfection in hound breeding — Ben
Capell

XIII Two Days with the Quorn (First Day) 148

The famous grass countries — Hunting centres — Railway
travel — The Bay Mare Inn — Hiring a hunter — A blank day

XIV Two Days with the Quorn (Second Day) 195

Richard the Bay — The meet— The chase— The brook-
Colonel Richardson

XV The Royal Buckhounds 169

King Edward III — Queen Anne — The Church and the
Chase — The meet at Ascot — The great assemblage —
Queen Victoria — The Prince and Princess of Wales

XVI A Day with Lord Rothschild's Staghounds 179
New Year's Eve in London — The fog — The meet —
The crated stag — Enlarging the stag — The chase — The
capture

Contents

PAGE

XVII The Chase of the Wild Red Deer in Devonshire 191
The Devon and Somerset Staghounds — Lorna Doone's
country — The Quantock Hills — The meet — Anthony
Huxtable — The Tufters — The Chase — Taking the deer
— A long ride home

XVIII The Chase of the Hare 203

The hare — The old and the new school methods — Long
live the Chase — Foot Harriers

XIX Foot Beagles 212

School and College Foot Beagles — The Delapre Hall
Beagles — A day with an Oxford College "Cry" — Com-
parison of English and American college sports

XX Otter Hunting 226

The otter — Nature of the game — The otterhound —
His great courage and endurance

XXI A Day with the Essex Otterhounds 235

The meet — The terriers — Hound music — A great day's
sport — Love-making — How English sportsmen are ac-
counted for — Tally-ho otter — The obliging millers

XXII Fox Hunting in Ireland 246

The Irish hunter — His breeding and schooling— The
great Dublin Horse Show — Buying a hunter

xxi:

A Day with the Meath Hounds 253

Tipperary — Difficulties on the way — An exciting drive —
The meet — In an Irish bog — A couple of lost souls

Contents xi

PAGE

XXIV Fox Hunting in Scotland 263

A day with Farmer McDougal — A bit of Scotch humour-
Wee McDougal — A few Scotch stories — Too late for the
meet— The race of his life — Bonnie Scotland forever

PART III
HUNTING IN FRANCE

XXV Hunting in France 279

The nature of the game— Baron de Dorlodot — The
kennels — The Forest of Senouches

XXVI The Chase of the Wild Boar 287

Locating the game — The covert side — The start — The
chase — Hallali! — The ceremony

XXVII Wild Stag Hunting in France 294

A day with the Marquis de Cornulier's French hounds —
Taking the stag in a lake — A most exciting day's sport

XXVIII A Day with the Marquis de Chambray's Hounds 299
The white hounds of the King — Starting the lordly stag —
A Percheron stallion in harness — Hallali! Hallali! — The
1908th stag — In defence of the chase

Ride, Fair American: Englishman, Ride 316

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

TACE

At Bay in Horner Water Frontispiece

A. Henry Higginson, Esq., M.F.H 20

R. N. Ellis, Esq., M.F.H 22

The late P. F. Collier, Esq 24

Mr. P. F. Collier's staghounds 24

Mrs. James K. Maddux on Torchlight 26

The meet 3°

The Meadowhrook hounds 30

Col. J. Chinn and Mr. H. S. Walker 36

The two colonels 44

Uncle Abner's novel fox hunt • .... 60

Colonel Roosevelt 7°

Almost 76

Mr. Nichols' Greyhounds: the meet 80

Poor Mr. Coyote 84

XIV

List of Illustrations

PACE

The author with the first kill 84

In Colorado: the meet 84

Ready to start 88

Croesus 88

After the kill 88

Mr. E. J. Cameron with a roped coyote 94

Mr. Petrie's hounds: the kill 94

Major W. A. Wadsworth, M.F.H 102

Mr. Herbert Wadsworth's home 104

Future hunters and their dams 104

A meet on the lawn iio

Major Wadsworth's home iio

Dr. F. J. Capon 118

The Montreal Kennels 118

The Toronto pack 120

Sir Gilbert Greenall, M.F.H 138

The Duke of Rutland 140

A crush to get through 142

Ben Capell, Huntsman 142

List of Illustrations xv

Belvoir Castle 146

Relvoir Dexter 146

Puppies 15^^

The Quorn Pack 150

The Karl of Lonsdale, M.P\H 156

A meet at Kirby Gate 162

The field moving off 162

Richard the Bay at the brook 166

Lord Rothschild and Mr. Leopold de Rothschild . . .180

John Boore, Huntsman 188

Giving the stag "law" 188

The Devon and Somerset staghounds 192

Opening meet near Minehead 196

Delapr6 Abbey foot beagles 214

Cambridge University "cry" 220

l-.ton foot beagles 224

Otterhounds 228

Huntsman leading the pack 232

The Essex Otterhounds 232

Trying a likely stream 238

xvi List of Illustration

PAGE

Helping the ladies across 238

The Master and his pack 242

Catching the scent 242

The kill 244

Terriers hanging from otter . . 244

Baron de Dorlodot 278

The Boarhounds 280

The Dorlodot Hunt 282

Ready for the chase 284

The return of the hunt 28S

The grey boar's last stand 290

Singing the death song 292

The Marquis de Cornulier's Staghounds 294

Stag taking to water 296

Waiting for the end 298

The Marquis de Chambray 300

A meet in the forest 302

Hounds ready to be slipped 304

Waiting 306

After the death 308

Blessing the hounds 312

PREFACE

Blessed be the thoughts and recollections
That drive the ills and cares of life away.
While they bring again serene reflections
Of all the joys we had along the way.

CROSS Country with Horse and Hound" has proved a
liappy (hsappointnient, especially to the author.
There heing but few hunt clubs in America, it was argued
that there were comparatively few who were personally
interested in cross country riding to hounds; it was therefore
wth some misgivings that the book was brought to light.
The effort, however, has received such hearty endorsement
from the reading public in general, and has had such pleasant
things said about it by the hunting fraternity in particular,
both in England and America, that the writing of this second
woi-k has become doubly enjoyable. It may be said to have
been undertaken in response to an encore.

Next to a cross country ride itself, comes the pleasure of
living it over again \\\W\ whoever has the ear for hearing it, and
an imagination keen enough to supply what neither pen nor
pencil is able to produce.

There seems to be born in every man a taste for country
hfe and in most men a love for the chase. We probably
inherit our longing for the fields from our mother Eve, whose
desire to return to the garden must have been very great,
so great in fact, that the world will never stand long enough
to see it eradicated from the system of her descendants.
It is from the "old man" perhaps, who was obliged to hunt
for a living after losing his farm, that we inherit a desire for

10 Preface

the chase. This taste for country hfe and the chase is, in
many cases no doubt, lying dormant in the system. It simply
needs awakening to inoculate the whole being with an insa-
tiable thirst for the field, the wood, the chase.

The kindly reception of "Cross Country Avith Horse and
Hound" would indicate that many a soul is tuned to the
melody of hound music, and the spirit of the chase, that never
heard the one, nor participated in the other. No author can
have greater pleasure than the thought that in many such he
may have awakened a sentiment that will burn with a will.
If so, the sequel is near at hand, for where there is a will the
way is not far of finding; if not in whole, in part. Hunting,
j-achting, shooting, fishing, it will surely find a vent somewhere
and somehow.

"The Hunting Field with Horse and Hound" is really
volume No. II to "Cross Country with Horse and Hound."

It is the hope of tliis volume, as it was of the one preceding
it, to encourage a love for country life, to create anew in many
dormant natures, a taste for manly games of sport, especially
for men after they have left school and college, and also to pro-
mote the chase, that "noble science," formerly called the sport
of Kings, but which may nowadays more properlj' be styled
the King of sports.

Not alone is it the object of this book to hunt with horse
and hound in different lands. A fox chase, for instance, is a
fox chase the world over, and if all there was to fox hunting
came out in the chase, the description of a single run would
answer the purpose, all the others being fox chases ditto. The
interest found in fox hunting Avith the difi'erent packs of
liounds and in different countries we shall take the reader to
visit, lies principallj' in the peojile and not in the game or the
hounds. Especially is tliis true of fox hunting in the New
England states and the sunny South, while in Ireland and
Scotland we must not miss tlie native sparkle of the one nor

Preface 11

the delightful humour of the other. If the writer shall succeed
in transmitting to tiiese ])ages the spirit of the chase, the hreath
of the fields and the aroma of the forest, and shall uncover
sufficiently the hearts of some of the true and nohle sportsmen
it has heen his good fortune to meet, tliis work will have
accomplished its jnu-pose. If, on the other hand, it can he read
without leaving in the reader's mind anything beyond a ride on
horseback while racing after a fox, or other game, then is the
writer's failure c()m])lcte.

Past masters in the art and science of hunting will please
bear in mind that the writer is but an amateur, and that he
comes, not to save the men and women who are already in the
field, but to convert the heathen, to preach the gospel of true
sport and genuine sportsmanship, and to hunt for the real
joys to be found in hunting; viz., pleasure, health, strength,
and long life, which are vouchsafed to all who worship at
its shrine.

Hunting is about the only stimulant that leaves no scar.
It is about the only indulgence to which we may tiu'n, that
does not come back to plague and torment us; it is the best
remedy tlirough manhood and age, that can be rehed on to
lighten the heart, drive away sorrow and fortify us against
the disappointments of life, and to postpone to the latest
possible date the sending of our wills to probate.

In recording herein the accoimts of some glorious days
with horse and hound, as they still live in the recollection of
the author, he has selected such as give the greatest variety
to the chase, both at home and abroad. The account of the
two days with the Quorn, and a day with the Devon and
Somerset staghounds in England, have appeared in the
"Country Gentleman" and "Rider and Driver." Portions of
the other chapters have appeared in "Harper's Weekly" and
the "Sporting Illustrated Xews." By kind permission of the
editors, they are ^rith slight modification reproduced herewith.

12 Preface

The day with the Genesee Valley hounds is, in reality, part of
the three days' sport. All other days are faithful records of
the chase, with the hounds ridden to, with possibly the least
bit of colour now and again in connecting the events. The work
is believed to cover every class of game ridden to with hounds,
besides foot beagles, foot harriers and otterhounds.

Again the writer takes pleasure in calling upon his old
friend, W. Phillpotts Williams, for liberal quotations from his
delightful "Poems in Pink" and "Rhymes in Red," and the
immortal Somervile, who so often came to the writer's rescue
in his former volume, when his own pen was "up a stump" for
the right thing to sny.

Some of the chapters wliich stand next to each other in this
book were written fifteen years apart, most of them were
thrashed out during the time spent in ocean crossings between
1891 and 1906. This probably accounts for some chapters
having a list to port and others to starboard, while still others
alternately head for the bottom of the sea or a star at meridian.
They may be like a clock, the great temperance lecturer, John
B. Gough, was fond of telling about, i. e., when its hands
pointed to twenty minutes past eleven and it struck four "the
owner" said he "knew it was just one o'clock." So with these
chapters, it matters little where they point or how they strike,
as long as the reader understands they point to clean sport and
strike for true sportsmanship.

It is with great pleasure that the author is able to present
herewith six full page reproductions of oil paintings, done
especially to illustrate the text, by the clever horse and hound
artist, Juhan Ingersoll Chamberlain. Whatever may be said
for or against their artistic merit, all hunting men will enjoy
them for their true hunting spirit and the life-like action of
both horses and hounds. To the numerous Masters of hounds,
clever huntsmen and brother sportsmen both at home and
abroad, who have done so much to make this volume possible,

Preface 13

the writer simply goes into bankruptcy ; his debts of gratitude
can never be paid.

It is singular in looking back over the twenty odd years
which tliis and the previous volume cover, how all the "blank
days, all the cold, rainy, disagreeable days," are quite for-
gotten, the days when for some unaccountable reason we
were unable to get on good terms with our mount, the days
when we had to work our passage from start to finish of the
run, steering or trying to, some hard-mouthed ill-humoured
brute.

Yes, it is singular how these unpleasant, these disagreeable
days are quite forgotten, and that it is only the best and really
glorious days that live on to cheer and brighten. This is just
as it should be. It is such days as are herein recorded that
make the blood canter again at the sound of galloping hoofs.
It is the recollection of such days as these that in spite of
grey hairs and rheumatic twitches^makes one feel all over
young again. iVn affection for the chase, especially riding to
hounds, invariably deepens in the hearts of most hunting men
with increasing years, until the sight of a matronly-looking
mare makes them quite as solicitous as a father for his ex-
pectant first-born, while a foal at foot of their favourite himt-
ing mare makes them as foolish as a grandfather in his dotage.
The author does not speak from personal experience of this
latter condition, but he feels it coming on, and judging from
those who have gone this way before him, he is getting there
all too fast.

Well, let it come and may the setting sun shed its parting
light on no meaner or less cheery picture than recollections
of "The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound."

PART I
HUNTING IN AMERICA

To

Maj. W. A. Wadsworth,

M. F. H. Genesee Valley Hunt.

'Hold hard for a moment, the hounds are collecting.
Old Benedict speaks, how they fly to his cry!
The thought of the chase all our senses inflecting.
We wait in the hopes of a sweet by and by."

Poems in Pink.

FOX HUNTING IN AMERICA

HISTORY OF FOX HUNTING INTRODUCTION OF ENGLISH FOX-
HOUNDS PRIVATE PACKS — BRUNSWICK FUR CLUB — THE

NORFOLK — THE MIDDLESEX — THE MR(U)OWBROOK — THE
WARRENTON COUNTRY — THE ROSE TREE HUNT,

T^OX hunting in America began — well, to be accurate, "In
■'• the beginning," or as the old time historians were fond
of saying, "at a time in the history of the nation to which
the memory of man runneth not contrary." If foxhounds did
not come over in the Mayflower, it was very soon after. At
any rate they were introduced into Virginia by the earhest set-
tlers. British army officers brought hounds with them to this
country, as they have done to every other country to which they
have been sent, whether their mission was one of peace or Avar.

!Many persons in both the southern and New England
states are fond of repeating to this day famih' traditions
to the effect that some progenitor at some time brought, or had
sent over, to this country, a few English foxhounds, or "hunt-
ing dogs" as they were generally termed.

In England they originally hunted with mixed packs. The
southern or bloodhound, that hunted entirely by scent, was
depended upon to drive or follow the chase in the thicket,
while the speedier greyhound, which runs entirely by sight,
took a hand when the game was driven into the open. The
crossing of these two ancient families with a view of producing
a combination dog with speed, nose and tongue, developed the
present English foxhound which, at the time of the first im-
portations to this country, must have been a family with
anything but a fixed type.

This country was so large and people lived at such great

18 Tlie Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

distances apart, that instead of packs of hounds being hunted
by organised clubs, individual ownership became the rule.

This individual ownership of hounds in America is still the
rule, except on special days like Thanksgiving, election day,
Christmas or New Year's, when all the neighbouring hounds
are brought in to some town or farm agreed upon for a general
hunt to be followed by a dinner, or a dance, or both.

There are, of course, a good number of organised packs
of hounds in America, hunting with either English or Amer-
ican hounds, that hunt on regular days throughout the season
after the English custom, but the great fraternity of fox
hunters in America are confined to private or individual packs,
which probably number among the thousands. Then there
are a few semi-organised packs that are hunted with some
regularity and are somewhat under control of an appointed
<j>r recognised huntsman, as in Lexington, Kentucky. I refer
to that most prominent hound breeder of the blue grass
comitry. Col. Roger WiUiams. When his pack goes out and
is heard giving tongue, every hound from every plantation
within hearing joins in by liis own invitation (of course he is
w^elcomed), and although his indejjendent methods of hunting
make liim an ungovernable member of the pack, —

"He joins the glad throng
That go racing along.
For he must go hunting to-day."

Next to Kentucky, there is probably no keener lot of fox
hunting men than is to be found in New England. The casual
observer would never suspect it, but a httle inquiry among the
rival towns will show that "the woods are full of it."

Among the organised hunt clubs of New England the
Brunswick Fur Club, an organisation that was started as an an-
nual fox hunt, but of late years has come to be a hound show with

Fo.r II Hilling in America 19

field trials, brings together a very large number of fox hunters,
hound breeders and fanciers with representative hounds of \m-
vate packs from Virginia, Kentucky and even South Carolina.

The Norfolk Hunt at INIedficld, JNIassachusetts, is one of
the smartest up to date hvnit clubs of New England. The
genial ]\I. F. H., jNIr. Henry Vaughan of Boston, has devoted
much personal attention to the organisation and the building
of a very attractive club house. A better stud of high class
heavy weight hunters it would be hard to find in any American
Hunt. JNIr. Vaughan hunts a drag pack, also a wild fox pack,
so there is something doing nearly all the time. The hunts-
man is a man of great experience in kennel management and
a nailer to follow when hunting the hounds. The hunt is over
rough stone walls and timber coimtry.

The JSIyopia Hunt at Wenham is to Boston what the
INIeadowbrook is to New York. The writer has no personal
knowledge of this club, but its reputation has gone far and
wide, especially as one of the wealthiest hunt clubs in America,
and as "money makes the mare go" they have certain ad-
vantages perhaps over their less favoured rivals.

The writer's ideal sportsman is the man or woman who
knows the game from A to Z. He would eliminate ever\'
pastime from the list of sports that did not begin and end in
the skill and prowess of the sportsman liimself. A man who
rides liis own racehorses is a sportsman, the man who races
horses with a jockey may be a sport, but he is no nearer to
being a sportsman than a person who pumps a pianola is to
being a musician. The man who sails his own yacht is a sports-
man, the man who togs out in yachting clothes, because he has
a steam launch and a hired man to run it, may pass for a yachts-
man, but not for a sportsman. jNIotoring, except racing
between owners who drive their own cars, may be called recrea-
tion, but it is too much of a tax on imagination to call it sport
or the owners sportsmen.

20 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

It must not be inferred from the above that there are no
genuine sportsmen among wealthy Americans. While wealth
seems to be a great handicap to sportsmanship, many men in
our country are justly entitled to the distinction in spite of
wealth, and furthermore, the writer believes the hunting field
affords more numerous examples of tliis than any other
American sport.

For instance, the blood of some good old British sportsman,
after lying dormant for many years, has lately come to life
with the freshness of sj^ring in the person of Mr. A. Henry
Higginson, Master of the Middlesex Hunt, who resides at
South Lincoln, some eighteen miles west of Boston, Mass. Mr.
Higginson is not only the proud possessor of one of the best
packs of English Foxhounds in America, but better still, he
has caught the true spirit of hound breeding and has given the
subject his jjersonal attention. Beginning some ten years ago,
Mr. Higginson tried many experiments with beagles until in
1903 he felt ready to undertake the main object he had
always had in view, the formation of a really A K'o. 1 pack of
hounds.

The Middlesex Hunt is favoured Avith a good class of
landowners, who welcome the riders and hounds over their
fields. A gamekeeper is employed who spends much of his
time in looking after the young foxes that are raised in the
Middlesex territory and in stopping their earths prior to a
day's hunting. Tliis makes it possible to kill, and this is
essential, for it is certainly very discouraging to hounds, if not
to riders, to go out day after day and season after season for
this purpose and never to accomplish it.

If you want a good time all the time, pay a visit to the
Middlesex Kennels. A walk and talk with Cotesworth, the
huntsman, when he goes out to exercise the pack or when
feeding his forty odd couples of most promising puppies, will
sui'ely be accounted a treat, for there is probably not a better

A. HENRY HIGGINSON ESQ., M.

Fox Hunting in America 21

posted or more experienced huntsman and hound breeder in
America. It is a well grounded notion in America that we
cannot breed foxhounds with the bone, style and carriage as
seen in England. This, as the writer has always maintained, is
a mistake, and it is a great pleasure to see the success that Cotes-
worth is having in developing these qualities at the ^Middlesex
Kennels. It is also most gratifying to know that the Amer-
ican-bred hounds from imported Enghsh sires and dams are
showing a greater inclination to work out a cold line than either
their sires or dams. This goes to prove quite conclusively that
it is possible that the fault with the English hounds brought
to tliis country is not so much a question of nose which prevents
their following a cold line, but indifference or lack of inclina-
tion to hunt such a line. Of course it amounts to the same
tiling, so far as producing results, but the writer has long been
of the opinion that it is not so much the noses of English-bred
hounds that are at fault, as that never having been called upon
to do such plodding work in England as is necessary in this
country, they quit, not because they cannot follow the line,
but because they won't.

"We are offered a good illustration of tliis at JMiddlesex.
The hounds bred there from English parents work with more
persistency than the best of the imported ones.

JSIr. Higginson's great stud dogs, Vaulter and Vanguard,
in conformation at least, are very superior foxhounds. Their
wonderful depth of body and lung capacity, great bone and
muscle, as indicated by the size of the forearm, almost fault-
less feet, together with grand carriage of the head and stern,
make them hard ones to beat. Vaulter's measurements are
as follows : height from flags to breast between forelegs, twelve
inches, height at shoulders twenty-five inches, height of body
at stern twenty-five inches, girth of forearm eight and one-half
inches. If these measurements are compared with those of the
great Gambler, that Gillard pronounced the most perfect

22 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

hound ever produced in England, it will be seen that Vaulter
comes very near to fitting the scale. Be that as it may, he is a
very grand specimen.

Mr- J. I. Chamberlain, who was referred to in the preface,
designed Mr. Higginson's kennels, which possess so many
valuable features. Not only is the JNIaster to be congratulated
on the up-to-date manner in wMch he has equipped the Middle-
sex Hunt establishment, but the great fox hunting fraternity
at large is under lasting obligations to him for the interest he
has taken in hound breeding. The writer believes his exertion
in this particular, will prove the beginning of a competition in
hound breeding among masters of hounds in America that wll
not only add greatly to the interest of fox hunting, but elevate
the standard of the American bred hounds, be they of Ameri-
can or English descent, to the same exalted position which
they enjoy in England.

The Meadowbrook Hunt, with kennels at Hempstead,
Long Island, has a wide reputation among the society folks
and is on that account often spoken of as "the Swagger Hunt
of America."

While under the mastersliip of that most gentlemanly all
round sportsman, ]Mr. Ralph EHis, it was the writer's good
fortune to visit the country for a few days and to participate in
the chase.

. The Meadowbrook was in those days a drag hvmt, pure
and simple, but since then through the efforts of some real
hunting spirits, a pack of English bred hounds were imported
for hunting the \^dld red fox with which that portion of the
island has been liberally stocked. The writer, however, only
speaks from his personal experience with the club as a drag
hunt. Although this style of riding to hounds can, by no
stretch of the imagination, be called hunting, it has the ad-
vantage of insuring the members, most of whom are business
men in town, a sure gallop every time they go out.

v,-. ELLIS ESQ.,

FoiV IIuntiiKj in jlmcnca "23

While the ckib has often been richculed by New York city
papers, nowhere in America, or in the world, let us hope, can
any other hunt club be found riding to such stiff timber fences,
and nowhere in America at least that the writer has ever
ridden, excej)t in tlie chase of the coyote and Jack Rabbits with
greyhounds on the open j)lains, is the pace as fast as it is with
the JNIeadowbrook draghounds.

It is simply a cross country steeplechase with a racing pack
of hounds instead of a flagged course to lead the way. The
writer will never forget liis first flight over those post and rail
fences. He was mounted on ]Mr. C. A. Steven's "Doctor,"
a son of INIacbeth, whom the writer had reared and schooled in
the Genesee Valley. A most powerful jumper.

The meet was at the beautiful club house adjoining the
kennels at Hempstead. There were at the hunt more pink
hunting coats and high silk hats in evidence than could be
collected among all other hunt clubs in America. It made a
very pretty sight which would have been a credit to any of the
fashionable ])acks of the famous grass countries of England,
appointments perfect and the best lot of hunters to be found in
a single hunt in th(i United States. At the meet "Doctor"
moped about, and in company with horses, mostly clean thor-
oughbreds, he looked and felt more like a lumbering farm horse
than a hunter. In this respect he was the most deceptive horse
the rider ever owned. To see liim going to a meet 5'ou would
think he was being ridden home from a day's ploughing. To
see him going at his fences when hounds were ahead of him,
you would say that he was the most resolute, spirited charger
anywhere to be found, bold, determined, straight going, and
the cleanest timber jumper a man ever rode. "Doctor" never
hesitated or wavered. His inspiration, however, seemed to
come from the hounds, for as an exhibition jumper, he was
not even ordinary.

We had hardlv left tlie club house when the hounds broke

24 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

away and were off like the crack of a gun. The Doctor and
his mount were not expecting trouble to begin so soon and
were quite beliind, but not for long. The Doctor always
jumped clear of his fences in the Genesee Valley, but in the
Meadowbrook he left the first half-dozen fences with feet
instead of inches to spare. There was no steadying him down
to them. He took them all flying in true steej^lechase form.
Mr. Stevens promised the writer the ride of his life and he
had it, but he felt Mke the girl who said after her first ride
down the toboggan slide at the Quebec Ice Carnival, "I would
not have missed it for a thousand dollars." "Then ride again?"
"No, not for two thousand." Those can laugh who will at the
swagger Meadowbrook, but if those who laugh would follow
that hunt over stiff Long Island fences, they would find they
had no heart or face to laugh, for the chances are their hearts
would be in their mouths and their faces in the dumps.

At any rate, the writer has a most profound respect for the
pluck and nerve of the men who ride and the courage and
endurance of the horses that carry them across the Meadow-
brook country.

The late Mr. P. F. Collier, editor of "Collier's Weekly,"
and M. F. H., of the JNIeadowbrook, a sportsman through and
through, kept a grand j^ack of English bred staghounds at
his country home in New Jersey. ]Mr. Collier rode at about
two hundred and fifty pounds, wliich meant his hunters must
not only be above ordinary but extraordinary as to weight,
bone and muscle, and so they were in this respect. They looked
the pick of Ireland and very similar to the noted heavy weight
Irish hunters in the hunt stables of Lord Rothschild, or his
brother, JNIr I^eopold de Rothschild, at Tring, and Leighton
Buzzard, England, where we shall attempt to take the reader
in a later chapter.

Tliis stag hunt is unique, in that the stags to be
hunted are the large white-tailed deer, which he had collected

1^

kii^S

f Jn^P^

L^^^^^

THK l.ATK 1". F. COLLIER ESQ.

»• »r"^ ^^3^^^^

iM

r

'}

, -. ,-, \, ;.-■ •,f»

MR. P. F. COLLIER S STAGHOUNDS

Fo.r JI tinting in Amcnca 25

for him in Texas. Instead of keeping these in a small en-
closure, as is the usual custom abroad, where they hunt the
crated stag, these animals, eight or ten of them, are kept in
a large-sized field, partly natural forest. Every day a collie
dog is taken into this enclosure and gives them all a good chase,
the object being to keep them hard and fit for running. They
have a small paddock adjoining the one they are in, into wliich
they can jump after they have been chased. They soon learn
that this jiarticular enclosure is a harbour of safety and usually
return to it of their own accord.

On a hunting day a stag, instead of being carted and driven
to a meet and there "enlarged," is liberated from a shed in the
main enclosure and sent away by the collie dog for six or eight
miles in any direction he may choose to take. The collie is then
called in and after an hour or so the hounds are brought out
and are cast into a covert in the most natural way for finding
a stag, independent of the known point at which he entered
the covert. In case of failure, of course, the huntsman can
always lift hounds onto the known line of entrance to the
covert. When the hounds ])ick up the trail and the chase is on
the stag leads them a merry gallop for ten or fifteen miles, but
when the hounds begin to press him too hard for comfort and
he tries one or two streams or ponds of water as a means of
throwing them off, it finally occurs to him that there is in the
Avorld at least one harbour of safety, i. e., the little paddock
adjoining his enforced enclosure and to this he flies with the
unerring judgment of a homing pigeon. When he arrives
there he finds a place in the high fencing let down for him. A
servant is on the lookout to close it after him. The hounds
race up to the spot where the stag entered the enclosure and
are suitably rewarded with a "worry" of fresh meat, provided for
the occasion. The riders who have been able to follow are there
to cheer them as they eagerly devour their reward. The chase is
over, the day is done, after which the hounds are kenneled, and

26 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hotmd

riders and horses go to their well earned rejiast and rest.

There are some special features about hunting in Virginia
that distinguish that country from all others. Especially is
tliis true about hunting in Warrenton.

If you are not a judge of "horse flesh" or if you cannot talk
horse sideways and backwards morning, noon and night, take
the writer's advice and keep away from Warrenton. They
have got the horse fever down there and badly. The only
difference between Warrenton, Va., and Lexington, Ken-
tucky, is that at the latter place they talk horse and breed
them, as they make and take their whiskey, straight; but in
Virginia they sing it with variations. That's not all, "the
Virginia horses themselves are so well schooled," says JNIr.
Maddux, the well known M. F. H. of the Maddux Fox
Hounds and also INIaster of the Warrenton Drag Hunt, "that
many of them can speak in several foreign tongues." Here-
with is a full page illustration of Mrs. JNIaddux on her cele-
brated grey hunter, Torchlight. It is evident from the photo-
graph that JNIrs. JNIaddux is also most jiroficient. She sits her
horse to perfection and her hands, with slackened bridle reins,
show her a cross country riding artist and a past mistress in
the science of negotiating fences.

The writer had a most dehghtful visit at the charming
country seat of JNIr. and INIrs. INIaddux, and a day with jSIr.
JMaddux's hounds over a grand hunting country, but he caught
the horse fever, therefore he talks horses in this chapter. He
can't help it; they say that after his visit to Virginia, he
talked horse in his sleep.

The one thing in Virginia that most impressed the writer
was the bone they are producing in their hunters. It certainly
looks as if Virginia was destined to be the coming hunter-
horse-breeding centre of the United States. At least it is not
at all venturesome to predict that from Virginia is to come the
Irish hunter of America.

Foa: Hunting in America 27

The writer can hardly close this chapter on hunting in
America without calling attention to the special features of at
least one other hunt club, the Rose Tree Hunt.

A tliirty minutes ride from Philadelphia on the Pennsyl-
vania R. R. landed the writer at ]\Iedia, a mile and a half from
the Old Rose Tree Hunt Club. A bus soon had him at the
club house, where he was made welcome by a few of the mem-
bers who wei'e putting up there for the night.

The club properly consists of a beautiful farm of about
75 acres, over which is laid a steeplechase course, on which the
club holds a race meeting every fall for the entertainment of
its members and the farmers over whose lands they ride, and
for the country-side at large. These meetings are old time-
honoured events and are attended by a large number of people
from Philadelphia, Baltimore and the surrounding country.
The club house is an old-fashioned Colonial mansion, fitted up
to meet the requirements of the members. There is no attempt
made at display; the house is a model of comfort and conven-
ience and is beautifully adapted for the purpose for which
it is now being used. Also on the grounds are stables with
ample accommodation for horses and a first class kennel
equipment.

To toast one's shins on a cold winter's night before the
himt club fireplace, with such venerable men as Heiuy K.
Saulnier, the president, and J. Howard I^ewis, \ice-president
of the club, is indeed a treat. The former is now (lOOo) in
his ninety-sixth year and the latter is in his ninety-first year.
Both of these gentlemen give fox hunting the credit for keep-
ing their wills from going to probate.

In chasing the fox thej'^ have hterally outridden Father
Time, who sharpened his scythe and started after them nearly
a hundred years ago.

I will never forget hearing these two dear old fox hunters
talk over their hunting days of forty or fifty years ago, how

28 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

this one came a cropper over a stone wall at Edgemont and
how some other one got the brush after a four hour run with
snow on the gromid, and a hundred and one reminiscences
which they love dearly to relate of days gone by. ]Mr. Saulnier
is unable to ride any longer or to take any part in club affairs,
but ISIr. Lewis still retains a lot of his old time vigour and now
in liis ninety-first year he can be seen almost every day riding
his favourite saddle horse in Media or going to and from the
club.

Emanuel Hey, one of the directors of the Rose Tree Hunt,
is a true sportsman of the real sort and did much to make
the writer's visit to that club something to recall with pleasure.

"Only a few years ago," said Mr. Hey, "I jokingly said
to Mr. Lewis, then in his eighty-sixth year, 'I would hke to
gallop my horse against one of yours.' 'All right,' replied
Mr. Lewis, 'you can do it any day you please. How would
the afternoon of our next monthly dinner suit you?' " 'That
would suit me all right,' replied Mr. Hey, thinking that would
be the last he would hear of the matter. Not so Mr. Lewis;
he was there on the hour and demanded the race. Mr. Hey
suggested that some one of the younger men ride Mr. Lewis'
horse as he did not want to take the chances of the old gen-
tleman being hurt or fatigued. To this INIr. Lewis, full of
his old time sporting fire, rather tartly rephed, 'You challenged
me to ride you a race and I'll ride tliis horse myself or he
don't start. Xow then, are you going to ride tliis race with
me or back down?' "

It was a race over the club's course, a mile and a quarter.
Mr. Lewis won in a punishing finish by half a length, amid
the shouts and throAving of hats by the lookers on.

The Rose Tree Hunt Club claims the honourable dis-
tinction of being the oldest organised hunt club in America,
dating from 1859. The characteristic feature of the club is
that they hunt with the old style American hounds with long

Fox Hunting in America 29

ears and deep voices. These hounds seem especially well
adapted to hunt that part of the countr\'. In colour they are
"Ring streaked and speckled," nevertheless they are as fine
a hunting pack of hounds as one would care to see. With such
an old hunt cluh it would he a })ity ever to depart from this
style of hound. The pride in the hunt is the fact that they are
preserving as nearly as })ossihle the original American type of
hounds, and all other customs and traditions of ye olden times.
JNIay they never change it for more modern notions, but pre-
serve it forever without taint or tarnish. As the years go on
tliis feature will become more and more interesting and as such,
it would he a shame ever to destroy it.

Another delightful old time feature which the clul)
members are most assiduous in preserving is a monthly supper,
"On the full of the moon," not only during the hunting season
but for every month in the year. Pennsylvania farmers have
always been noted for their sacred observance of doing im-
portant things on the full of the moon — "hog killing," "barn
raising," and many other events of the year. Agreeable to
this time-honoured custom the members of the Rose Tree
Hunt come together thirteen times a year when the sign is
right. They also say that the man in the moon is the proper
one to get full on these occasions and saves a lot of big-headed-
ness, which makes such a difference, especially the next
morning.

Not only do these Rose Tree sportsmen entertain them-
selves in this most delightful manner, but they do not forget
the farmers, to whom they are beholden for the courtesy of
crossing their land. Twice a year at the beginning and closing
of the season, they give them a dinner, the members of the club
putting on aprons and waiting upon their guests, — millionaires
and farmers, railroad presidents and gardeners. It is the most
democratic club I have ever visited.

The writer has had a good deal to say about class and

30 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

snobbishness among American sportsmen. It is indeed a pleas-
ure to find a club like the Rose Tree, practising true democracy
as a democratic people in a democratic nation should. It is as
delightful as it is simple. It is at least the writer's idea of what
a thoroughbred Ainerican sportsman is Mke. Long live the
Rose Tree Hunt, to preserve and transmit examples of un-
adulterated Americanism, pure American hospitahty and true
American sportsmanship.

This club hunts nothing but the wild fox, of which there
are fortunately plenty. The club rules forbid the use of the
hounds for drag hunts. It is a hunt club pure and simple ; the
best of good fellowship prevails; the farmer and his son are
welcome guests at the club house and in the runs, where every
man is on an equal footing. Visitors are always welcome and
one is always sure of a good day's sport.

The writer rode out with the Rose Tree Hounds from the
kennels for a short run. As there was snow on the ground
the hounds were somewhat slow in finding, and as the writer
had made an appointment with Jolm Valentine, ]M. F. H. of
the Radnor Hunt, to spend the afternoon with his hounds,
he was obliged to quit early in the day. As luck would have it,
he missed the hunt of the season with the Rose Tree, as will
be seen from the foUowdng letter, which he received a few days
later from Mr. Hey, who gives such a dehghtful description
of the run, that it would be a pity to omit it from these pages.
It reads as follows :

My Dear Mr. Peer:

You may regret as long as you live missing the experience
of last Saturday. After you left us, we had one of the most
enjoyable days to hounds it has ever been my good fortune to
get into.

We left the kennels as you know, about eight, and started
for the west Chester Barrens, a covert about five miles from

T il F, M E E T

THE MEADOWUKOOK HOUNDS

Fux limiting in ^Imcrica 31

the club house, having a look at all the coverts on the way.
Our huntsman, as you remember, cast his hounds into the
"Barrens" and "the field" located on the lower edge. I beheve
it was at this moment that you left us. What a pity! If you
had waited another few minutes you never could have been
torn away by anything short of instant death. Presently the
hounds began making the most beautiful music a hunting man
ever heard, when right out before us, not a hundred yards from
"the field," came two foxes. Of course we were wild and most
anxious for the hounds to get onto their game. The snow
frozen just hard enough to carry the fox and hounds, and we
were afraid the scent would grow cold. Our huntsman and
hounds did not appear for quite awhile and some of the "thresh-
ing devils" began to get worked up. But our good huntsman
knew his business like a book, the hounds continuing to make
the woods ring — when all at once out comes "JNIr. Fox" number
three, and not two minutes after him our huntsman and the
hounds all bimched in the prettiest shape I ever saw. This fox
took a direction north of the other two so there was no con-
fiieting scent. The snow just kept the hounds from going too
fast and no one knew it better than "Bre'r Fox." He ran us
back and forth between the Barrens, Westtown school, and
Poplar Hill until four o'clock, when he holed. We viewed him
at least fifty times, in fact, there was hardly a time during the
hunt that he was more than a field or two ahead of the hounds
and many times much closer. We covered during the run, I
suppose, fifty miles, but the going was so fine and the pace so
steady that it did not kill our horses like an hour's run at a
steeplechase clip with a few checks thrown in. It was not a
day for "threshing devils," but the day for the man who enjoys
hunting for the sake of the hunt, to see the individual hounds
work, first this one and then that one in the lead, etc.

Pardon the length of this, but it is a day I shall never for-
get. I will never get tired of thinking and talking al)out it.

32 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

and my only regret is that you and all other good hunting
men who hunt for the love of the sport were not in it. It
was without douht the best day I ever had to hounds and I
have followed the game for a great many years.

Yours truly,
Emanuel Hey

A southern sportsman of the old school I see —
A perfect gentleman born.
He knows a good horse and loves a good hound.
He likes a mint Julep tvherever ifs found.
And a moonlight ride xcith the horn.

II

FOX HUNTING IN THE SUNNY SOUTH

HUNTING DOGS IN THE SOUTH — POLITICS AND FOX HUNTING —
VISITING A SOUTHERN PLANTATIONr^A SOUTHERN SPORTS-
MAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL — JIM.

ONE maj' safely say there is hardly a plantation south
of the "JMason-Dixon" line, and east of the Mississijipi,
where one could not find a few dogs which are principally
devoted to fox hunting.

In a personal letter from Col. Roger Williams, of Lex-
ington, Ky., he says "there are 100 counties in Kentucky
and each had from two to twentj' packs of hounds and two-
tliirds of the farmers without packs own two or more hounds."
Many of these so-called hounds are nondescript mongrels,
but they can hunt. Some of them are as good at opossum as
they are at fox. They ^^^ll "trail" the former by day, the latter
by night, and in either case give good sport, especially when
one comes to know the game, and appreciate it from a southern
sportsman's point of view.

The Southerner, be he poor white, negro or one of the
"first families," is a born hunter. Fox hunting in the Southern
States is not an occasion for dress or display of any kind except

34 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

good horsemanship. The whole question, as a rule, begins and
ends with the hunting quaUfications of the hounds.

It does not seem to matter much which end of the dog the
tail is on, so long as it does not interfere with his nose, liis
tongue, or his staying qualities. He may not have meat
enovigh on his bones to keep them from rattling ; he may have
a chronic case of the mange, and a flea for every hair ; but as
long as he does not stop to scratch the one or hunt the other
when once he strikes a trail, no matter. As may be imagined,
there has been developed or evolved in the Southern States a
race of dogs — one can hardly call them hounds — that for pure
hunting quahties and endurance have no equal in any country.
There are a few careful breeders, who have a little regard for
type or family characteristics, but as a rule there is the greatest
diversity among southern dogs that go under the name of
"American hounds."

What the southern sportsman dwells on mostly is the
fact that his hound can start a fox in the morning, "trail"
him, as the expression is, all day and all night, come home to
breakfast the next morning with the pads of his feet worn
through, have something to eat, take a nap behind the kitchen
stove, then start out again of his own accord to "trail" for
another day and night. This is the Icind of animal they are all
striving after, that seems to be the simi total of excellence in
the so-called American hound. It is not at all strange, there-
fore, that in the question of nose and endurance these dogs have
no equals.

Nor is it any wonder that a dog whose ancestors have been
brought up in tliis particular school should hunt or trail all
around the best Enghsh bred foxhounds, who usually make
a sorry display of themselves when put to a similar test.

The writer saw in a fox hunting pilgrimage through the
Smmy South many dogs that did not have a thing about them
to distinguish them from common mongrels. "Hunts herself

Fox Hunting in the Sunny South 35

to death," says the proud possessor, "can't keep her at home."
There is sure to be added, to an account of her great trailing
quaHties, "There is not a better hound in the state, no matter
where they come from." The writer never met a man in all
his travels, or while living for a time in the South, who did not
have among his dogs at least one that was "the best in the
state."

Pardon for dwelling over long on this point, but no one
can understand what fox hunting means in the South until
this question of hound requirements and hound management
is disposed of. Even where these two requirements in a hound
are developed to perfection, and where fox limiting is the uni-
versal sport of the country, it is a very rare thing that these
hounds overtake and kill their game. That's not at all essential
to the happiness of a southern sportsman. The prime object
is to see hounds hunt and listen to the "heavenly music." The
owners know the country, and the habits of the foxes chased
from certain coverts, so well that the moment hounds give
tongue in any particular wood, the owner rides to a certain
point where he may view the chase as it goes past. Having
arrived at the point ahead of the game, he lights his pipe, and
waits and listens to his hounds. When finally he hears them
coming, he says "That's Old Barter," or "Claw Hammer,"
as the case may be, whichever hound seems to be leading, for
each one is distinguished by its voice. The sound grows
fainter, and you suggest "The game is going the other way."
"No," replies your host, "he has only made liis usual double
back, and will be passing here in the next ten minutes."

Many of the keenest southern fox hunters prefer to hunt
by moonlight, because the music carries farther in the stillness
of the night. Again this is the time foxes are always on foot.

When fox and hounds have passed a given point, our host
rides to some other point where he is nearly certain the fox will
pass again in maldng back towards the place of starting. It

36 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

is astounding how seldom southern fox hunters are at fault in
placing themselves. Again he puts fire to liis corn-cob pipe,
and awaits events. When he has had enough of this, and it
sometimes takes all night to satisfy liim, or he thinks his hounds
have had all they ought to do for one night, he toots his cow
horn and calls them in. The older ones generally obey, but if
they feel like playing truant, and going on with the game, on
they go, getting in for breakfast or at any time of night, or
the next day wliich marks the limit of their endurance.

This may be said to be the general principle on Avhich fox
hunting is carried on throughout the Southern States. This
would not please our English friends. A ride to hounds in
England that does not include a kill is generally looked upon
as something of a farce. The writer, who was brought up after
the English style of riding to hounds, naturally prefers that
way. He wants to say, however, that he has hunted enough
in the Southern States to become thoroughly interested in the
game, and believes for the nature of the country and the game
and the hounds that it is the best adaptation of the sport to be
had, and he can readily understand, if he lived in that country,
and owned hounds, he would certainly do as the Southerners
do. Only he would go in more for looks, and style and cliar-
acter, in hound breeding, which he beheves can be maintained
and improved consistently with the southern requirements of
nose and endurance.

The better to illustrate a fox hunt as conducted in the
South, it may not be amiss to take the reader to visit an old
southern plantation, and devote a day to the game as it is
played throughout the Southern States. Having introduced
the reader to the southern hound, southern foxes, and the
general methods of pursuing the chase, it only remains to
present the southern sportsman himself. This probably can
best be accomplished by taldng the reader to Ansit the home of
a southern gentleman of the old school — one who still breeds

Fo.v Hunting in the Sunny South 37

and hunts his own hounds, as in the palmy daj's "befo' the
wah," when plantation life was at its zenith, and southern
chivalry was in flower.

Although those good old plantation days are greatly mod-
ified or have disappeared altogether, and although a victorious
army freed the slaves, devastated the land, and ruined the
people financially, there was one thing that could not be
destroyed, one custom more powerful than a president's
proclamation, one thing an invading army could not demohsh,
or poverty put to flight; i. e., the hunting instinct of the
Southern people. That at least remains. It had been bred
into the bones ; it runs in the blood ; like the spots of a leopard,
it cannot be changed.

As a southern hound fancier once told the writer, "Every
poor man could keep at least one hound, and every d — poor
man could keep two" — and most southern sportsmen after the
war trained in the latter class.

It is not uncommon for a politician to stump the country,
going from town to town with his pack of hounds, making
speeches in the evening and closing with an inrit-atipn for
all to meet with his hounds the next morning for a day's hunt-
ing. The following evening they are at the next village to
repeat the speech and invitation.

The following interesting letter from Colonel Roger
Williams of Lexington, Ky., dated June 25th, 1905, says: —
"Richard Redd, a noted fox hunter, was elected assessor of
Fayette County, for many years in succession. He always
canvassed with his pack of hounds stopping over night with his
constituents and hunting in the neighbourhood.

"For several nights before election his hounds ran drags
through the country. In some instances the drag was laid in
the front yard and even onto the porches of the voters as a
reminder.

"The present State treasurer of Kentucky," adds Col.

38 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Williams, "is a young man and ardent fox hunter. He was
the only man not on the State ticket to be elected. He can-
vased the entire State, stopping only with fox hunters in
each county and hunting wth them. He carried his election
by the largest majority ever given to a candidate for the office
in the State."

While living at Asheville, North CaroMna, in 1887-8, the
writer made the acquaintance of several southern sportsmen
of the old school.

"Come Aovm and see us," said one (whom we will call Col.
Thorpe). "We vAW give j^ou a genuine North Carohna
welcome, a taste of our best corn wliiskey, and a day's fox
hunting that will put you on good terms with all mankind, —
especially the brethren."

Through some misunderstanding, tJie writer arrived by
a train ahead of the one on which he was expected, and of
course there was no one at the station to meet him. WTiile
inquiring the way, from a gentleman at the station, a negro
went galloping past in grand style, and at a speed calculated
to turn the blackest nigger boy in the place green with envy.

"Heah, you nigger! You yellow nigger on the boss! you
come heah! !" shouted the gentleman.

Finally after repeated motions and hallooing, the rider
and liis beautiful thoroughbred mount came sidling up to the
curbstone. The grin on the boy's face, as he urged liis hes-
itating mount to witliin ordinary speaking distance, was so
great and full of satisfaction, that but for his ears to check
it, it would have opened the top of his head like a syrup pitcher.

"Look heah," said the stranger, "Is that Col. Thorpe's
boss?"

"I reckons liit is, boss."

"What you doing riding him hke that for?"

"I jes' done exercise him a little."

"Exercise him!" roared the stranger, "You're sure enough

Fox Hunting in the Siinnu South 39

riding that boss to death. — See heah. This yher gentleman
wants to go to Col. Thorpe's. You just jump down, and let
him ride that hoss home. You heah, and if I see you riding
that hoss any more like that, I'll suht'nly tell the Colonel."

The writer remonstrated. A mettlesome thoroughbred
covered with perspiration, and a joekey saddle, was anytliing
but inviting. So it was finally settled that the jockey should
stay up, and pilot the writer to a place on the "pike" where
he could "cut cross-lots" to the plantation. Then the jockey
would ride on to say he was coming.

"JMassa dun 'spect you," said the jockey, apologising,
"but he'll be pow'ful glad to see you. Yes, Sah. He sure dun
know^ you am a-comin', else he sure have been heah to meet
you," etc. — until the writer was convinced beyond question no
slight in hospitahty had been intended.

Presently, when crossing a field beyond a piece of timber,
the plantation buildings came in sight — a modest two-story
house, with a wde veranda in front, and with great fluted
columns supporting the roof that projected over the second
story, a style of architecture very popular throughout the
South, and the one best suited of all for a plantation house
set upon a rise of ground, as this one was, some distance
back from the "pike." Of course the house was painted
white.

The numerous detached out-buildings, the slave's quarters
before the war, were noAV occupied by coloured servants, pigs
and chickens. These one-story white-washed out-buildings
formed an oblong enclosure, that might be called the back
yard to the mansion. This yard is usually given up to the
chickens, ducks, turkeys, dogs, and negro children, w^th
possibly a cosset lamb or two, a lame pig or a pet calf. This
farm nursery is presided over by some old coloured servant,
usually a woman, whose management is seldom questioned,
and whose rule is law.

40 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

How home-like and inviting it all looked. As the writer
came up to the front yard, all the dogs came down to meet
him, together Avith a negro boy who shuffled along behind,
grinning from ear to ear.

"Is the master at home?" we inquire.

"He'll be heah right smarth, I reckon. He'll be right glad
to see you, Sah."

By tliis time, the dogs had inspected the writer to their
satisfaction, and had smoothed dowii their back hair as a sign
that he might pass. With the darky boy in front carrying the
grip, and the dogs, now wagging their welcome, we arrived
at the house.

In the meantime, we had been joined at a respectable
distance by two or three negro claildren. Old Hannah, the
cook, — as one could tell by the fulness of her form — attracted
by the racket the dogs had been making, came around the
corner of the house, her hands folded under her apron, the
whites of her eyes shut out by a corresponding large opening
in the lower part of her face. Just behind her was a little
ebony nigger, about three years old, holding on to the corner
boards of the house, and sticking liis head around to see what
was going on. He was dressed in a single garment — a sliirt
that had e^adently been made for Um ^hen he was several
years younger. His skin was so black and shiny as to suggest
stove polish. Presently, his mammy spied liim and then the
pair disappeared around the corner, the youngster howling
lustily in response to the flat of his mother's bare hand on his
shiny black trousers, or what would have been trousers if he
had had a pair on.

Just as the procession reached the lower steps of the porch,
the front door opened, and the JNIissis and children were there
to show their welcome.

The dogs went into ecstasies about the Missis when they
saw the writer was welcome, as much as to say, "See what

Fox Hunting in the Sunn?/ South 41

we have brought you." We were soon seated in the parlour,
the four clogs lying about ^Madam's chair.

JNIadam was a fine and typical Southern lady, with a
queenly way and natural dignity enough for the wife of the
President of the United States. Her hair was grey but her
face was young. Altogether, she had the stamp and carriage
of a lady of great refinement and considerable culture.

The conversation turned to dogs. Nellie Bly was the
favourite bird dog. She never flushed her birds, and was
also a good retriever. Sancho, a hound, was a first class dog
for trailing possum. He never told a lie. When he gave
tongue, you could depend a possum was on foot before liim.
Dixy was a splendid rabbit dog by day, and would run a
possum equally well at night. Jackson, a promising young
setter, was pardoned for many short-comings on account of
youth.

Just as the history of this fourth dog was coming to an
end, the host arrived, and a little later we all went out to
luncheon.

Colonel Thorpe, like his charming lady, was quite grey,
with a very military bearing, sharp, quick eyes that were full
of temper, a deep square-set jaw that gave the whole figure
the stamp of resolution and determination. He wore a black
frock-coat, no vest, slouched hat, riding boots and breeches.
His heavy grey moustache and small goatee, added to his
military carriage, made him look the real old war-horse he had
proved himself to be in the War of the Rebellion.

Jim, a fine, big, up-standing negro, black as the ace of
spades, waited on the table. He wore a white short coat and
apron, and caned the meat at a side-board. The lunch con-
sisted of fried chicken, sweet potatoes, corn bread, rice
pudding and coffee for dessert.

"Jim," said the Colonel after dinner, "Just go over to
Colonel Sacket's, and tell liim we're going for a fox hunt soon

42 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

as the moon comes up, and that we would like to have him come
along with his hounds."

Jim, who has a most contagious laugh, began to smile
when the Colonel began to speak. He knew what was coming.
His nose began to wrinkle, his eyebrows lifted. His ears
began to wiggle like a mule that is getting ready to bray, and
by the time his master got as far as "hounds," Jim could con-
tain himself no more, and broke out with a chuckle that ex-
ploded into a laugh wliich couldn't be stopped with both hands
trying to hold it down. He rushed out into the kitchen, and
there was a great ha-ha, followed by such a racket that ISIadam
went to the Idtchen to see what was the matter. She took one
look; evidently with the intention of reproving Jim. She
came back to the table, laugliing.

"Colonel," 5^ou will surely have to get rid of Jim."

"What's the racket about?" asked the Colonel.

"Well," replied his wife, trying to look serious, "Jim kicked
over all the chairs, just to give himself vent."

"That nigger," interrupted the Colonel, "likes fox hunting
as well as any hound I ever saw."

"And," added liis ^\ife, "he was holding Hannah's baby,
heels up and head down, making him walk on the ceiling like
a fly, and Hannah was taking after him wth the broom."

"Old Hannah's enough for Jim," said the Colonel, as
much as to say, "If Hamiah is in command, no fear but that
Jim will get all the punishment he deserves."

Madam failing to receive any sympathy from her hus-
band, gets in the last word with, "I do think Jim is about the
worst mannered nigger we ever had on the place," but evi-
dently she has been saying that ever since the beginning, and
the Colonel lets it go without comment.

He hnoxQS ichcrc the finest peppermint groxics.
He knoxvs the right jug in the cellar.
He knows his master is sure to exclaim,
Jim, I guess -we will have one of them
Before we go in to our supper.

Ill

A NORTH CAROLINA FOX HUNT BY
MOONLIGHT

THE MEET — A LITTLE GOSSIP ON THE WAY TO COVERT — BEFO'
THE WAH — JIM's ACCOUNT OF THE CHASE — OLD RASTUS —
THE GLORY 01' OLD GINGER — A MINT JULEP,

TTEAH comes Colonel Sackett," said Jim, sticking his head
•*■ ■*• in the sitting-room door, and we all went out on the
veranda to welcome him. There sat the Colonel on a beau-
tiful horse, the ideal picture of an army officer. He, like my
host, wore the conventional frock coat of the country, trousers
to match, no waistcoat, and a broad-brimmed soft hat. He sat
his beautiful horse to perfection. His full, grey beard gave
liim a very venerable look. He was called Colonel, as many
other Southern gentlemen are, who look the role even if they
never won the Eagles which denote the rank. His real rank
during the war, which he entered as a private, was that of cap-
tain. However, "Colonel" fitted him better, as any one could
see, and "Colonel" he Avas. As the ladies join us, the Colonel
removes his hat, and remains uncovered, as the chivalry of
the country demands.

At a respectable distance sat the Colonel's old servant.

44 The Himting Field With Horse and Hound

"Rastus," (formerly his body servant) on a jiony-bullt horse,
a line in liis hand leading to six uncommonly fine looking
hounds. Hannah and three or four of her eight ebonies stood
at one corner of the porch ; six or eight nigger boys and stable-
men and jilantation hands were looking on from the other
positions about the grounds.

JNIeanwhile, our o\v\\ horses are led around into the front
yard. Then up rides Jim, bigger and prouder than all com-
bined, with six as nondescript looking hounds as ever wore a
shp, crowding and straining at their lines, enough to pull the
happy Jim, horse and all, wherever they wished. What a
picture! The dignified Colonels, the laughing negroes, the
eager hounds!

Just as we were ready to start, a delegation of politicians
drove in to see Col. Thorpe, and we were obliged to go with-
out him. Col. Sacket taking command.
"Jim," called Col. Thorpe, "Oh, Jim."

Jim rode up to the porch.
"Now, Jim," said liis master, "you look sharp. Don't you
let those Sacket hounds get the best of our Ginger (Col.
Thorpe's favoui'ite foxhound). If you can help her to lead
fair and square, you'll be the best damn nigger on the place,
but mind, if ever I heah of your doing any crookedness, you're
a dead nigger, you heah me?"

"All righ', Sah," rephed Jim, "I take good care 'bout all
dat." "No dog war ever born what could head old Ginger,"
added Jim.

"Marster wouldn't ha' missed this yher chase for five
hundred dollars," said Jim as an apology for his master's
absence. "It mus' be pow'ful 'portant business what keep
him home when a fox hunt is on. Nothin' but death ever
stop him afore. Wish we had gone fo' dem gentlemen come."

Col. Sacket and the writer rode on together, while old
Rastus with Col. Sacket's, and Jim with Col. Thorpe's,

A Norlh Carolina Fox Hunt hy MoonlUjhi 45

hounds in leash came riding along behind. It was such a
charming night, not a breath of air stirring! "Just the night
for a fox hunt," said the Colonel. "I like night hunting best,
it is still, and you can hear the hounds at a much greater
distance."

The homids were finally liberated in a small bit of timber,
and away they went, heads down, each one for himself as
if hunting alone and all giving tongue as soon as the couples
were removed. The lot of them would have been hung in
England for babbling, but tliis style of hunting gives no
offence in the South.

The writer will not attempt to describe the chase. It was
his first experience after fox by moonlight, and in a strange
wood he felt like a cat in a strange garret.

The account of what happened, we will leave to Jim, and
we copy as nearly as possible his description of the chase, in
reporting the events of the evening to his master when we
returned.

Before we take up Jim's account, it will be quite necessary
for the reader to know a few things that were imparted to the
writer on the way home, after what Jim looked upon as the
most eventful run he ever experienced, to say nothing of the
part he played in it liimself, which surely would raise him to
the enviable distinction, as his master said, of beuig "the best
d — nigger on the place."

"INIarster'll sure 'nuff be pow'ful vexed with hisself that
he dun see the glory of old Ginger this night." Thus began
Jim, when we had said good night to Col. Sacket, and were
headed for our plantation some ten miles away. This was
about one o'clock in the morning. The beautiful full moon
was just past the meridian. Tlie hounds were in leash again.

"Nice looking lot of hounds, those of Col. Sacket's," sug-
gested the writer, "but — "

"Nice nothin'," interrupted Jim with great indignation,

46 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

"dem ar houns no foxhouns 'tall, dey jus' orrinary possum
dogs."

It was an awful mistake.

"I mean they are a nice looking lot of hounds, but of course
they are not equal to Col. Thorpe's hounds trailing fox."

"Well, I should say," replied Jim, the whites of his eyes
rolling at me in great disapproval, so deep and so strong that
every hne of his face and figure looked it.

Then Jim went on to tell how long "befo' de wah" this
Thorpe and Sacket family fell into a neighbourly quarrel that
almost amounted to a feud, and all on account of a fox hunt,
and the question of whose hounds were the best. It seems that
the fathers of the two present famihes, — as were their grand-
fathers— were noted fox hunters and hound breeders. Rivalry
therefore, in fox hunting, between the two famiUes, was very
keen. It seems on one occasion that the grandfather of the
present Col. Sacket, and the grandsire of the present Col.
Thorpe joined hounds in a fox hunt that led to a family
quarrel. Each declared liis hounds the better.

"Well," said JNIr. Sacket, "I would hke to have your hounds
about an hour, I would dump the brutes in a sack with a
stone in it, and throw the lot of them into the river."

"Well, if I had your hounds," said the other, "I wouldn't

even take the trouble to droAvn them. I'd have their d

throats cut, and throw them in the soap grease."

Tliis was a slur on their being nice-looking hounds, and,
to JNIr. Thorpe's notion, carrj-ing too much meat.

Finally, it came on to rain, and getting under the lee of a
straw stack for shelter, Thorpe said, "I'll pull straws with you
to see who has the pleasure of killing the other's hounds."

And then each proceeded to pull a straw, the one getting
the longest one was to be the winner. Sacket won.

"Now," said Thorpe, "I'll pull to see whether you take
my plantation, or I yours. I don't care to Uve beside you

A North Carolina Fo.v Hunt by Moonlight 47

any longer, Sir. Neither of us will ever agree. I'll buy or
sell."

"I don't care either to buy or sell," said Sacket, "but I'll
draw straws with you to see who gives up his plantation to the
other."

Again Sacket won.

"Xow, Thorpe," said Sacket, "I have no use for those
buildings. You are welcome to stay there as long as you Uke."

"D you, Sir," cried Thorpe, "I am not a subject of

your charity. Sir. I will move to my other plantation in Bun-
corn county. Good-day."

Well, he moved out, but in taking his niggers with liim, it
turned out that old Peter, the grandfather of Jim, took with
them to the other plantation a bitch called Gingei'.

The present Ginger is her direct descendant.

Then came the war. The elder Sacket was killed outright,
and the elder Thorpe died in a northern prison. The present
Col. Sacket and Col. Thorpe, although but boys, hardly sixteen
at the time, also went to war. After the war, young Thorpe
fell in love with young Sacket's sister. They married. They
are the present Col. and ]Mrs. Thorpe. The present Col.
Sacket and his sister being the only children, each shared ahke
in the property, the daughter selecting the old Thorpe home-
stead, and this again brought the two families neighbours.

"So the plantation where Col. Thorpe hves," ventured the
writer, "belongs to INIadam."

"Xo, Sah," said Jim, "she dun marry the Kimnel, and she
and de plantation all belongs to de Kunnel."

"Well, all right, go on."

Both of the boys inlierited their sires' passion for fox
hunting, and the keen rivalry of old between the two famihes
was renewed. ThorjDe had the blood of old Ginger in his
new kennels but the Sacket pack had all been stolen or dis-
posed of. After the war young Sacket sent to England for

48 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

some celebrated strain, and these with a lately imported Eng-
lish stud hound, formed the nucleus of liis new kennels.

Tliis Avas the state of things when the writer paid a A-isit to
Col. Thorpe. It is quite necessary the reader should know the
foregoing for what is to follow, as well as to get a correct idea
of tliis rivalry between hound breeders all over the Southern
States. The fox hunt itself, so far as the hunting part goes, is
of very minor account. The sport centres, not in the pursued,
but in the pursuers.

The above history of these adjoining packs is very similar
to thousands of other packs all over the Sunny South. Gene-
ration after generation had handed down the history and tradi-
tions of these family packs imtil the war, when thousands of
them were broken up (the houses and plantations as well).
However, many of the old southern plantations survived, and
have since been rebuilt, and once more the "heavenly music"
cheers on the younger generation, in whose blood runs the un-
quenchable fire and spirit of the chase.

This coming together of the Sacket and Thorpe kennels, as
the writer afterwards surmised, was principally on account
of the writer's making a remark favourable to the Enghsh bred
hound and that he wished to call on Col. Sacket, to whom he
had a letter of introduction. Col. Sacket, as we have shown,
was at the time using Enghsh blood. Col. Thorpe still swore
by the blood of old Ginger. It was principally to convince
the wTiter as well as to take Col. Sacket's English-bred dogs
down a peg or two that the invitation was sent out for him to
join us. This invitation, as the reader can now imagine,
amounted to a challenge.

For the description of the events of the night, we shall,
as before stated, depend upon Jim. The writer rode here and
there about the wood, Avith Col. Sacket, or was stationed by
him at given points best calculated to see the run, or sat listen-
ing on his horse, sometimes for half an hour, without hearing

A North Carolina Fox Hunt hy Moonlight 49

a sound save the hoot ol" an owl, a whip-poor-will's call, or the
crowing of a distant cock that mistook the moonlight night
for the balmy dawn. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it all, the
balmy air with its piny flavour, the aroma of the wood, nectar
for the gods, and the glorious moonlight through the tree tops.
What a perfect night !

We were, as Col. Thorpe had prophesied, on the best of
terms with all mankind, especially the brethren (fox hunting
fraternity) . Add to all this, reader, please, if you can imagine
it, the "heavenly music" of the hounds. How it rose and fell
on the soft night air, sometimes dying down to a whimper,
and then like the final chorus of a grand pipe organ, increasing
in volume until it filled the forest, the fields and adjoining
hills W'ith echoing melody.

It was at least three o'clock when we reached the house.
We had no more than reached the door when Col. Thorpe,
dressed in pajamas, came down to hear the news.

"Oh. marster, but you ought to er been dar," cried Jim at
the sight of his master. "Old Ginger done lead the pack."

"Good," cried the Colonel, "tell me all about it."

So Jim, having struck an attitude on the floor where want
of chairs and tables gave him plenty of room, began, the Colo-
nel, meanwhile, sitting on the arm of a chair, his face all aglow
with expectation, anticipation and pride. If Jim had to tell
how he won for him a million dollars, he could not have been
more anxious.

"Fust off," said Jim, "Rastus (Col. Sacket's old coloured
man who handled his hounds) gave me a big sermon 'bout de
Runnel's new hound, what he done fetch over from England.
He say 'Yo old boneyard hounds am no good any mo', along-
side de 'ported (imported) kind.' 'Rastus,' I say, 'You ole
fool nigger, you jus' go long 'bout your business, fo' you head
git so big it surely bust. Have you got any money yo' like to
back vour talk wid?' "

50 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

(Here Jim assumed the air of a bloated land-owner with no
end of money) . " 'Can meet you,' said he. 'All right, I bet yer
my year's wages gin yourn you han't go no fox dog nohow, put
up or shut up, and what's mo', dun you go fooling around
Marster Thorpe's dogs, with none of yo' ole tricks, or I fills
you so full o' lead, j^ou sink on dry land.' "

"Did you have a gun with you, Jim?" asked the Colonel,
looking serious.

"Deed I did, Sah. Ole Rastus play no salt meat game on
dis nigger, no, Sah."

Tliis referred to a trick laid to Rastus, but never proved;
i. e., that he put a lot of corn beef in the woods for Col.
Thorpe's homids to find and gorge themselves on, so they
couldn't run, keeping the Sacket hounds in leash until the meat
was devoured. Of course, the Sacket hounds took all the
honours. The incident stirred up a lot of bile and rile in the
blood of both families, and although Col. Thorpe had married
Col. Sacket's sister, the sore had never quite healed over to the
present day.

Jim's carrying a gun was strictly against the rule, and on
any other occasion, he would probably have received a severe
reprimand, and had the gun taken away from him, but the Col-
onel was so anxious to hear about the "glory of old Ginger"
that he let it pass.

"Where did you throw in?" asked the Colonel, who evi-
dently wanted to get Jim on to the trail without further ado.

Then Jim told how he crossed this field, and that, and
finally where they took the hounds to uncouple them.

"Yes, excellent j^lace!" cried the Colonel, shifting his seat
on the arm chair, as if he were now settling himself in his saddle
for a burst of speed when the hounds should jump their fox,
and the heavenly music should come to fill the wood, and like-
wise his heart.

"Then," said Jim, "we hadn't long ter wait." "That's old

A North Carolina Fo.v Hunt by Moonlight 51

England!" cried the Colonel, as one of his hounds hegan giving
tongue. "I jus' laf," said Jim, "fo dat's no fox, nohow, dat's a
possum, sure, cause ole Ginger she was right dah, and she dun
say nothing ahout it. For shur I did laf, and I say I give
ten y'ars my life if dem 'ported dogs take after a possum,
an' disgrace themselves for life. 'Whar's you Ginger now?'
said dat fool nigger Rastus, 'pears like she hain't got no nose,
nohow.' 'See heah, Rastus,' said I, 'has yer been up to any
crookedness? I just tell you right now, I got a gun for you,
and I shoot you daid fo' you get out dis yher woods!' " And
Jim drew his gun, and rolled his eyes, hving over again his state
of mind when he was between fear and doubt.

"On went de hounds, and we were waitin' and waitin', when
way off to the right o' de Sacket hounds, I heahs old Ginger."

At this the Colonel cried "Good!" and Jim went into
ecstasies again, like all his emotional race, as he lived the sensa-
tions over.

" 'Dat's ole Ginger,' I cried to Col. Sacket, 'your dogs only
run a possum. Dat's ole Ginger, and you listen jus' a minute.
Dun I tole j'ou so,' sa' I, and shu' 'nuff all our dogs hark to
ole Ginger; not a dog of Col. Sacket's in the lot, and I was fit
to die for joy."

"Jim," said the Colonel, as if the news was too good to be
true, "Jim, is that right?"

"Dat is squar gospil true on de Bible. Col. Sacket can say
no diff'rent."

"Well," said the Colonel, to bring Jim back to the trail
again, "What next?"

"Of cose I wanted to git to ole Ginger but I wanted fust
to see wid my own eyes de disgrace of dem 'ported dogs. By-
n-by we heah ole Ginger a-coming, and yelping every time she
hit the ground. She had shur turn dat fox to bring him back,
so we could see the fun. On dey conies, offle fast. I could tell
she war heating Mr. Fox's jacket mos' beautiful. On dey

52 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

comes," cried Jim, "and dar" (pointing to the baseboard as if
he actually saw the fox again, his ej'es wide open, and his chin
drooping with astonishment. The Colonel and the writer both
looked more than half expecting to see a fox sneaking past) —
"And dar, shu' 'nuff went past us INIr. Fox." The Colonel
stood up the better to see the fox as he passed.

"On came ole Ginger," continued Jim, "bless my eyes!
Oh, Marster Thorpe, dat war de bes' sight of all. She war
not two rods from dat ole fox's tail, and all her chilen hard
after."

The old lady was, as Jim said, showing her sons and daugh-
ters the way in great shape. This point was lost to the writer
at the time. It only goes to confirm what has already been
said about fox hunting in the Southern States, one must know
the whole family history, not only of the hounds, but the people
who hunt them in order to appreciate the game. When you do,
it becomes, as the reader must imagine it was in this case, inter-
esting beyond comparison. Let us hark back to old Ginger.

"Good old Ginger!" cried the Colonel. "There is not her
equal in the State. She — "

"Say in de worl', Marster Thorpe, say in de worl'," inter-
rupted the enthusiastic Jim. "If you see de way she laid
herself long de groun' after dat are fox, 'twould dun tickle
you mos' to def."

"Did you cheer her on, Jim?"

"Did I cheer her on! Well, INIarster Thorpe, how can you
ask such a question? Cheer her on — I jus' dun shouted my
head clean off — I holler and cheer until all de woods and de
hills were hollering back. Yes, Sah, — I speck dey all hollering
yit. An' when she jus' look at me, out o' de corner of her eye,
as she went pas', much as to say, 'dun you trouble 'bout me,
Jim. I dun know my business!' " And Jim with his face side-
ways to his master, gave him a quick look out of his big, lus-
trous eyes, just to show how it was done. This pleased the

^l Xortli CaroIiiKi Fax Hunt hi/ MoonlUfJit 5.3

Colonel immensely, and lie and Jim laughed and we all laughed
to<^ether.

The writer now recalled ^Madam's advice to the Colonel
the night before about getting rid of Jim. The reader knows
now what a waste of effort this was on ^ladam's part. The
Colonel is a poor man as riches go these days, but we doubt if
he would part with Jim for a million, or old Ginger for two.
The Colonel is white, and Jim is black, but in fox hunting they
are two of a kind.

"What about Col. Sacket, all this time?" asked the Colo-
nel, when the laugh had subsided.

"Well, Sah, after ole Ginger go pas' and git out o' hearing,
we ride along to de top o' de hill, and shu' 'nuff we heah in de
bottom de Runnel's dogs barking up a tree, jus' as I 'spected.
De Kunnel he says 'damn' and we all goes down ter see, and
shu' "nuff, dar dey war wid de 'ported dog, his fore legs up de
tree.

" 'Dey is nothin' but possum dogs,' say I.

" 'Yer right, Jim,' says de Kunnel.

" 'I'll go up de tree, and shake him out,' says I. 'De dogs
am spiled for fox, and yer better make possum dogs outen 'em,
and done with it. Dat 'ported dog, he dun lead your other
dogs into temptation.'

" 'Yer right agin, Jim,' said the Kunnel, 'and if I had a
gun, I would end his miserable life right heah.'

" 'If 't would much obleege yer, Kunnel,' said I, 'I might
'commodate you with the loan of a 'volver.'

" 'Lem me see it,' said the Kunnel.

"When I han' him my gun, he says, 'Is she loaded?'

" 'Yes,' I say.

" 'What fur'?'

"I didn't like to tell him it was for his nigger Rastus, so I
say, 'Jes in case yer like to shoot yer 'ported hound.' say I.

" 'Well, I do,' say he and jes' den de big, 'ported hound

54 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

come round de tree, barking like a cur, and de gun dun went
off with a streak o' fire. De 'ported dog never knew what hit
liim. He were as dead as a do' nail, with a bullet tlirough his
head.

"When de other dogs see dis dey put da tails 'tween dar
legs, and hoofed it for home.

" 'Give my compliments to Col. Thorpe,' say de Kunnel,
'and tell liim he has de best pack of hounds in North Carolina,'
and we lef dat possum up de tree, and all start for
home."

"Well, well, well," said the Colonel, letting himself down
into the seat of the big arm-chair, in a meditative mood.
"Well, well, well! Has it come at last?" Then turning to the
writer, almost with tears in his eyes, he said, "For nearly one
hundred years the Sacket family has been claiming the supe-
riority of their hounds. It has caused no end of hard feeling,
which on several occasions set ujj factions in tliis county, that
were carried to the church and even to the state politics. Well !
well! well! It has come at last," and again the Colonel gave
liimself to silent meditation. Jim, likewise, looked on most
seriously. It seemed as if the great rejoicing had turned to
mourning. But it hadn't. It was but a still deeper rejoicing
on Colonel Thorpe's part. His sadness was sympathetic sad-
ness for the final overthrow of the Sacket hounds, his ancient
enemy. What if it had been the other way about? He felt
the chagrin and mortification of this defeat for his neighbour,
as if it had been his own brother. Still, if it had not happened,
he and his neighbour would have gone on with the same family
strife to the end of their days, transmitting to their descen-
dants the same untiring efforts, each to out-do the other. If
Colonel Sacket could have come in then, he would have received
such a greeting as a Sacket never experienced in crossing the
Thorpe homestead before.

The next day as we were all in the back yard inspecting the

A North Carolina Fox Hunt by Moonlight 55

last litter of i)upj)ies from old Ginger — they were nearly six
months old — up drove Colonel Sacket.

"Well," said that game old sportsman, "Colonel, I con-
gratulate you on having the hest pack of hounds I ever saw.
Old (Tinger is indeed a wonder. My importation of English
hlood has ])roved a rank failure. I am thoroughly disgusted
with tlie whole lot."

Not an allusion to the evening before did Colonel Thorpe
make, but leading his old neighbour to the kennels, they fell to
discussing the last litter.

"Which do you tliink the best of the lot?" asked Colonel
Thorpe.

"Well," said Colonel Sacket, after he had looked and han-
dled them all over carefully, "I think I like the white and tan
dog, but the httle bitch is a beauty, and marked just like her
mother."

"Jim, ho, Jim, fetch a basket from the kitchen "

"Sir," said Colonel Thorpe, "may I have the pleasure of
presenting you with the pair of puppies you like best from old
Ginger?"

Colonel Sacket blushed like a school-girl. He could hardly
speak. When he did, he stretched out his hand, and said "Col-
onel Thorpe, you — you're a gentleman and a sportsman. I
take these dogs in the spirit they are given, and hoj^e that in
the years to come, I shall be able to produce a pack of hounds
that will be a credit to the country, an honour to the state and
the very devil to chase foxes."

Then we went in and vnth a mint julep such as Jim only
can make, we drank to the health of Col. Sacket, and his success
in the breeding of American bred foxhounds, and once again
to Col. Thorpe, a genuine Southern sportsman of the old
school.

A New England Country Gentleman I found him,
A Sportsman as square as a box,
With hospitality as broad as his acres were wide.
With a soul unpampered by wealth or pride.
And a heart as big as an ox.

IV

FOX HUNTING IN NEW ENGLAND

UNCLE ABNER — A GENUINE SPORTSMAN OF THE REAL OLD SORT —
TWO FAMOUS BIRD DOGS — A SAIL — SHOOTING THE FOX —
APPLES AND CIDER.

TTNCLE ABNER— everybody called him "Uncle:" it
^^ fitted him — was one of those noble specimens of Amer-
ican country gentlemen that were very plentiful all over New
England and the Eastern States from the day of the early
settlers until after the War of the Rebellion.

Since then they have gradually disappeared and there does
not seem to be very much material in sight to fill their places, at
least on the farms. Nowadays most of these ancient country
homes are given over to the emigrant, or to a wealthy city man
who owns them as toys. The profligate land policy of our
government in setting up tens of thousands of emigrants yearly
in the farming business is principally the cause of tliis deteriora-
tion in agriculture. Thus it has come about that the foreign
government-made farmers have depeopled the farms of New
England and the Eastern States of the grandest race of coun-
try gentlemen America has ever produced.

Agriculture in the Eastern States has steadily dechned.

Fox Hunting in Xcic England 57

The sons and daughters of these country gentlemen have left
the farm for the factory, so that this most noble race of men
who were indigenous to the soil has been lost to the country,
state and nation, swallowed up, ground to pieces or altered
beyond recognition.

It is to be hoped that ultimately the government at Wash-
ington will give to agriculture the same fostering care and
protection that are devoted to manufactm-ing industries. Who-
ever attempts to write the history of America in the near
future, will surely say that this profligate land policy has been
one of the most unstatesman-like acts committed against the
American people.

There is now and then a descendant of this good old stock
scattered about New England and the Eastern States, who
is living in the country part, if not all, of the year. While this
class may have inherited the taste for country life, they are
usually depending upon a factory or business in town to sup-
port the land. Nearly every one born of agricultural parents,
wliose memorj' goes backward to the fifties will know just the
kind of a man the writer is about to describe in Uncle Abner.
Or as our favourite poet Williams would say:

"I'll give you a gentleman, a man, and a friend,

A nailer to handle the horn,

A man one is always jnrparcd to defend.

Whose friendship is strong and endures to the end,

A truer sportsman never teas horn."

Although the writer was so unfortunate as to have been
born in a city, his bringing up in the fifties was in a community
of Uncle Abner's. The writer's joy in finding such a man as
late as '98 is left to the reader's imagination.

Like fox hunting in the Southern States, the charm in New
England centres more in the men who hunt than in the fox.

58 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

"Come down and see me, come for a week," said Uncle Ab-
ner. "We'll fill you up on pumpkin pie and buckwheat cakes.
We'll give you plenty of New England air and that is the
best in the world for your health. As you are built that way,
we'll go fox hunting every day and coon hunting every night."

"Now see here. Uncle, you are leading me into temptation
beyond my strength. Pumpkin pie, that's my favourite, buck-
wheat cakes are my special favourites and fox hunting — that's
the last straw. 'I am yours to command.' When you are
ready let me know, and I'll be there."

"What's the matter with right now? Get your grip and
come along with me," and Uncle Abner's stronger will again
prevailed.

Uncle Abner is a widower, and his maiden sister keeps
house for him. "Just we two," explained Uncle Abner in his
cutting New England humour, "and a man to do a few chores
around the place and make me a lot of trouble and a hired
girl in the kitchen, just to keep my sister from getting out of
employment and to have something handy on the place for
women folks to talk about when they call."

It was nearly evening when we arrived at Uncle Abner's
farm, and soon after we were seated to a good New England
dinner such as Aunt Polly knows how to prejjare — a kind of
dinner that is being imitated and called "A New England
dinner," all over the United States, but there is only one true
receipt and that the writer is inclined to think never went out of
New England.

Uncle Abner had never enjoyed the advantages of a college
education, but he, like many of his colleagues, possessed a fund
of knowledge that is seldom met with in men who have been
forced through college by the present day cramming process.

Well, Uncle Abner was one of those pioneer great men who
in lieu of book learning, had received from the fates some bea-
con light that leads on to a grand and noble manhood, an

Fo.r Hunting in Xerc England 59

honour to the neighbourhood and the marvel of all who know
them.

After dinner we had a social feast talking horses and poli-
tics. Uncle Abner was at one time State Assemblyman and
his reminiscences of jjolitical fights were most interesting.
Said Uncle Abner finally, "If we are to go fox hunting to-mor-
row, we'd better get out the guns so as to be all ready for an
early start in the morning."

While the old gentleman was getting down his guns and
ammunition, the kitchen door o])ened and in rushed two of the
grandest pointers one would wish to see. Uncle Abner hap-
I)cned to have a gun in his hand at the time, in fact it was our
talking gun or the smell of them that made these pointers push
their way in.

They ran to Uncle Abner, smelt of the gun and then began
such a race about the house as would give a shooting man some-
thing to remember as long as he lived. The writer has seen
many bird dogs take on at the sight of a gun, but these two
pointers. Liver and Bacon, take the prize.

They furled or double reefed every rug on the hardwood
floors, out through the hall into the parlour, back again into the
sitting-room, hum])ing their backs and going hke mad. The
writer laughed until he couldn't make a noise, while Uncle
Abner looked ])roudly on.

"The hounds for fox hunting," explained Uncle Abner,
"we keep shut up down by the barn, as you know here in New
England, we loosen the hounds and then station ourselves
about as on runways for deer and shoot the fox as the hounds
drive him past.

"We will go out with the hounds early in the morning, and
if we get anything by noon, we will come in and try the point-
ers on woodcock and quails. They (the pointers) have seen us
with the guns and they will be miserable if we do not take
them out."

60 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Think of a man at Uncle Abner's age going fox hunting in
the morning and then bird shooting in the afternoon, just be-
cause Liver and Bacon had seen the guns and would be miser-
able!

The writer has spent many delightful evenings with genu-
ine sportsmen, talking horse and gun and hounds, but the night
among them all that his memory loves best to recall is the one
spent with Uncle Abner, that American gentleman, farmer
and fine sportsman.

We were up bright and early the next morning. The
hounds loaded into a crate on a democrat wagon, a basket heavy
with luncheon at our feet, the guns leaning against the seat be-
tween us — and we are ready. Liver and Bacon, meanwhile,
were racing about and jumping at the old mare's head in their
eagerness to see her start.

Uncle Abner explained on the way that we would drive to
Lebago lake, about two miles, leave the old mare and the
pointers at a livery, take a sail boat and cross the lake to an up-
land forest where there are plenty of foxes, and where there
was little or no underbrush to obstruct the view, for as pre-
viously stated, we were to station ourselves at certain points
while the hounds were expected to "jump" their fox in the bot-
tom lands near the lake and drive them within reach of our
guns. The programme was to try the hounds for foxes during
the forenoon, and return to give Liver and Bacon some fun
after birds, in some big stubble fields, near the livery stable,
after lunch; for by that time it would be too dry to "trail"
foxes any more for the day. Hounds were put "in coupUng
irons" and then in leash and went dragging Nelson, Uncle
Abner's man, to the wharf.

Fastening the hounds in the boat house, Nelson pulled the
writer and Uncle Abner out to where the "Daisy" lay nodding
to her anchor buoy. He left us on board to make sail while he
returned to the boat house for the hounds, which were quite

Fox Hunting in New England 61

load enough for the Daisy's small dingey. The Daisy was a
"cat" rigged yacht, about sixteen feet water line and twenty
feet over all and seven feet beam. Removing the sail cover
and setting the mainsail was the work of five minutes, and by
the time the hounds were alongside everything was ready for
letting go our mooring.

Uncle Abner had taken his seat in the stern, with tiller and
main sheet in hand, Nelson had removed the couplings, and no
sooner did the dingey touch alongside than tlie hounds began
springing aboard. "I^et go forward," said Uncle Abner, as by
a quick turn of the rudder, he caused the Daisy's mainsail to
fill. Nelson crawled aboard, making the dingey fast as he came.

What a delightful sail! What a perfect autumn day! the
sun had but lately risen ; the first gentle breeze of the morning
was stirring and came to us loaded with savoury odors of a
piny birchen flavour.

AVith one short tack, we presently arrive under the lee of a
projecting headland. The Daisy is brought up into the wind,
down comes the mainsail, and as her headway is nearly gone,
Nelson lets go the anchor.

Hounds had been put in couples and the leash made fast to
a cleat in the centreboard. Nelson puts Uncle Abner and his
guest ashore and returns for the hounds. iMeanwhile, Uncle
Abner stations the writer some way up the liill and moves off
to take up a similar ])osition for himself some forty rods away.
What a beautiful wood, free from underbrush, the great
spreading tree tops in the flood tide of autumn, forming a
glorious canopy of yellow and gold! The leaves were still wet
with the dews of the morning, so we came to our station without
disturbing a single resident of the wood. "What an ideal day
for gunning," the squirrels were chattering, like gossiping
fish waives on a market day. The crows were collecting in a
portion of the wood farther on. We tried the sights of our
guns on a circling hawk. Several honey bees went past, all in

62 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hoimd

the same direction or the opposite. How Nelson is ever to man-
age the hounds alone in that little dingey and get them ashore
with their combined eagerness and impatience was what we
were tliinking of when his cheery wliistle sounded down among
the willows in the low land along the lake.

Tliis told us he was ready to liberate the hounds and an
answering "Toot! toot!" from Uncle Abner's horn followed.
Instantly all the wood folks stopped to hsten and a stillness
settled over the forest that you could feel. Oh ! those dreadful
delightful moments, when every nerve in your body is listening,
doubting, hoping as well as your ears for the challenging
note of a hound. You know they are driving at their work with
all their pent up energy and force. Still, what a contrast is
the commotion in your mind to the stillness of this mighty
forest. Think? — no, you cannot think. All your nerve and
brain force is waiting to serve and think when the supreme
moment comes.

Was it a wliimper or a jay? Yes, it was a whimper and
a challenge. For this relief much thanks, your mind seems
clearer now. Then you recall it was the voice of a young hound
and remember a youngster is in the party and is probably
chasing a chipmunk up a tree. It must have been a false alarm
because notliing more comes of it. Presently the business of
the day goes on again among all the families of the wood.

What if a fox should come along now and you should miss
him? This kind of fox hunting was entirely new to the writer.
All that Uncle Abner had vouchsafed to say by way of putting
him right was, "Now all you have got to do is to stand still in
your tracks and don't let a fox slip past you." Isn't it about
time a hound gave tongue? The writer began to relax liis
vigilance and think, when — but he is ashamed to confess it —
a fox ran right past him. At first sight he was not ten yards
away. Bang ! ! the leaves flew up from the ground at the end of
Mr. Revnard's brush. Bang! a cleaner miss never was made.

FolV Hunting in New England 63

Just then came the deep bay of a hound and presently the
wood was full of it, but what an awful thing had happened.
The writer's chagrin was complete, he was nearly run over by
a fox and missed him. On come the hounds charging right past
him and when he finally came out of his trance, fox, hounds and
all were out of his sight.

Nelson came running up. Would the wi'iter have courage
to tell the truth when asked if he had seen the fox? But Nelson
saved him the trouble, by saying, "Look sharp, he may be
back here in a few moments," and on he went to the crown of
the hill. This reminded the writer to load his gun again. He
had learned his first lesson in the New England style of fox
hunting; i. e. — when you are on a hunt you must be in the
game with all your wits from the very first. A fox doesn't wait
for hounds to chase him out of covert, certainly not, as the
writer well knew, from the riding-to-hound standpoint. But
there was the trouble, for in hunting a fox by riding to hounds
your movements all depend on the hounds, in shooting your
fox ahead of the hounds it is the fox you must think about re-
gardless of the hounds. The hounds were gone an hour when
we heard them coming back. By this time the cold perspira-
tion stage that the writer had found himself in, had subsided;
he had done a lot of thinking and had given some real close at-
tention to hunting. He felt it would be a smart fox that would
play that trick on him a second time.

Bang! went Uncle Abner's gun. It never spoke but once
and Mr. Fox never went the length of himself after. Hounds
came up, we ate some lunch, while Nelson took off the pelt,
mask and brush and rewarded the hounds for their toil.

No allusion was made to the writer's worse than miss and
he let it rest until the time came to talk it all over in the evening,
by a cheery grate fire, a pan of a])plcs and a pitcher of cider.

Fortunately, perhaps, for the visitor's peace of mind, he
redeemed himself somewhat in the afternoon, shooting over

64 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Liver and Bacon, but that is in pickle for another story. Suffice
it to say that it was altogether as glorious a day's sport as the
most exacting could wish — yachting, fox hunting and shoot-
ing all in one day, and best of all the companionship of a New
England country gentleman, and all round sportsman of the
real old sort.

To Harry Petrie, Denver, Colo.

Of all the good fellmcs I ever have met
The Westerner discounts them all.
No better breed for all the year round.
Ever rode a cayuse or cheered on a hound.
Or rounded a steer in the fall.

WITH HORSE AND HOUNDS ON THE WESTERN
PLAINS

JACK RABBIl— COYOTE AND WOLF HUNTING — THE SPORTING
PARSON — WESTERN AVAYS — A THOROUGHBRED SPORTSMAN.

OVER all the great plains and cattle grazing countries
of the United States, from the IMississippi to the Rockies,
from Canada to the Gulf of jNIexico, Jack rabbits are found
nearly everpvhere.

Coyotes are plentiful, and the wolf, though greatly re-
duced in numbers and range, still has, like the Indian, reserva-
tions where he continues to live, if not to flourish. In whatever
neighbourhood, community or colony you find one of these
three families, there you will also find some good, local hunting
blood, with a few good dogs, well adapted to the locality, and
any amount of genuine hospitality.

You occasionally find an enthusiast who docs nothing but
hunt all winter and notliing but think and talk about it all sum-
mer; but for the most part hunting on the plains is done as a
recreation and is indulged in whenever the spirit moves, or a

66 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

friend or a stranger comes along who expresses a desire to see
the sport.

The Jack rabbit needs no introduction, except to say he is
not a rabbit at all but a hare. He resembles the rabbit in build,
but is about twice as large. He does not burrow like a rabbit,
but breeds above ground and when pursued, seldom, if ever,
takes to ground even in a rabbit or badger country, where
burrows are most numerous. The coyote is the outlaw and sca-
venger of the plains; he lives on rabbits which he tracks by
scent like a dog. He picks the bones of all unfortunate cattle
whose lives come to an end wliile afield.

He is about half way between a fox and a wolf and re-
sembles one quite as much as the other. He has not the cun-
ning of the former, the opinion of some of my coyote friends
to the contrary notwithstanding. Like the wolf, he is a coward,
but becomes bold and aggressive when in bands. They are
generally found separate when hunting their smaller prey,
such as rabbits and prairie dogs, but when hunger is upon them
they organise, as in guerrilla warfare, and will pull down a calf
or a yearhng, or even a bullock or cow, that is too sickly or
weak to resist them.

Mr. Harry Petrie, who has a ranch near Denver, lost
twenty-seven yearhng heifers in one season, that were pulled
down by coyotes. This turned INIr. Petrie's milk of human
kindness to wormwood and gall. He bought some nonde-
script dogs of foxhound extraction to begin with; these he
gradually weeded out and in their places has one of the best
packs of pure greyhounds for coyote hunting in Colorado.
From hunting his foe for revenge he now hunts him for sport.
Although he has taken from twenty-five to fifty head of coyo-
tes a year for the last ten years he still remembers the death of
his Herefords. He says, "It does me more good than a feed
of oats to see a coyote pulled down."

When pressed by hounds a coyote usually runs to others of

With Horse and Hounds on the Western Plains 67

his tribe with a view of banding together so that when the hand
to hand contest comes on, the fight will be in their favour. If,
in these chases, two or three coyotes find themselves pressed
by a single hound they turn on liim and his life is only rescued
by bringing on the pack.

]Mr. Petrie has had several hounds killed by being led into
such a trap and has many times saved the lives of others by
coming to the rescue or sending in a timely shot from his six
shooter. The coyote alone, as before stated, is a coward, but
when finally overtaken he puts up a fight that would tickle
an Irishman to death.

We need not dwell on his habits more, but leave it to the
chase itself to bring out his most pronounced features. As
to the wolf, he is well understood by everyone. What boy has
not read all about wolves and how they band for attack ? Who
has not seen pictures of them pursuing a horse and cutter on a
stormy night, where the horse was being driven for dear life
to esca])e; or where their jiursuit has been stoi)ped by shooting-
one of the gang, which the others stopped to devour?

An occasional magazine article and personal reminiscence
of western men had been coming to the writer for some time as
to Jack rabbit, coyote and wolf hunting with horse and hound,
in some parts of the Western States, and he thought he would
like to include a chapter or two on tliis form of the chase. To
accomplish this he made a hunting tour through Colorado and
Kansas, that he might see the game with his own eyes and be
able to give his personal experiences and impressions. They
may prove unsatisfactory to his western friends, whose ideas
and views are somewhat at variance in different districts, and
who maj' fail to understand how coyote hunting in one part of
the State differs from that in another. The writer does not pre-
tend to give the best way, but to tell what he saw, as he saw it.
He had no idea, however, of the extent of tliis sport, which one
in the East hears so little about. The reason for this is that

68 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

there are very few organised clubs with regular meets and that
the hunting of this nature is done with private or trencher-fed
packs (hounds from several different owners joined for a chase)
which abound wherever game of tliis kind is found.

The way in which it all came about was so characteristic
of western sportsmen and western hospitahty that we can-
not do better perhaps than take the reader along from the
beginning.

On being introduced to Mr. Grubb, a noted ranchman of
Colorado, the writer inquired after the game of Colorado, in
general, and Jack rabbit, coyote and wolf hunting in particu-
lar. "Look here," replied Mr. Grubb, "you just drop a line
to Parson Uzel, of Denver; he is the man you ought to see,
he is not only a great sportsman but one of the greatest
ministers of the West. What denomination? Oh! No par-
ticular denomination; he just preaches. Built a great church
wliich is filled every Sunday with miners, cowboys and the
poorer classes of Denver. He is father, mother, brother and
sister to the whole town, as well as to the great mining camps
at Cripple Creek, Idaho Springs, etc. He plays fair and
gives his people square deals every time and preaches practi-
cal, every day religion. Every year about this time or just
before Christmas he organises a Jack rabbit hunt and goes
out where they are so numerous as to be a pest and clears
up the country and returns to town with five to seven thousand
Jack rabbits. This is liis yearly Christmas to the labouring
classes, and especially the poor. If you want any information
write him." "What is his address?" inquired the writer. "Oh!
I don't know, just direct to Parson Uzel; everybody knows
him. As to coyotes, whatever you do, drop in on Harry
Petrie, of the Union Stock Yards, when you go to Denver.
He has the best pack of greyhounds for coyote hunting in
Colorado. He is a thoroughbred and if you have never ridden
to greyhounds on the plains, he will give you the time of your

JVith Horse and Hounds on the Western Plains 69

life. Introduction — you don't need any, but if you think you
must have something, just tell him Gruhb sent you."

In due time came the following from Parson Uzel. "Re-
playing to your esteemed favour, would say you can have any
quantity of Jack rabbit or coyote hunting near Denver, and
I will be pleased to have you join our annual shooting party
after Jack rabbits which usually takes place this month, and
if you decide to come on we wll try and arrange to have it
take place at a time that will suit your convenience."

Who could resist such a letter as this? Well, it touched
a weak spot somewhere in the writer's anatomy, and he went.

Arriving at Denver, Parson Uzel, as every one calls him,
proceeded to put me right. We started out together and in
less than two hours I had been introduced to the best sport-
ing element of the city, from the Judge of the Sui)reme Court,
to a gunsmith, from bank presidents to ranch owners, from
greyhound fanciers and coursing men to cowboys whom we
happened to meet on the street.

That evening there was a general round-up of the hunt-
ing talent and the following programme was decided upon.

The next day, I was to go Jack rabbit hunting with the
Bartel Brothers' noted pack of greyhounds; the day following,
visit Cripple Creek mining camp and have a day with the
Colorado Hunt Club after coj'ote; then, on my return to
Denver, IVIr. Harry Petrie was to take me to a ranch near
Kit Carson for two days coyote hunting. In the meantime the
parson would make arrangements for the annual Jack rabbit
round-up at Lemar, the planning of wliich was at once set
on foot.

As to wolf hunting, the parson took me to a taxidermist
who suggested two packs of hounds in Kansas. From there
we went to the Santa Fe R. R. office, and after introducing
me to the manager, the parson said, "My friend wants some
wolf hunting and we hear of a pack doing good work at

70 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Buckley (Kansas) on your line. Would you mind having
the wire touched to your station agent at Buckley for more
positive information?" Then we went to another railroad
to make arrangements for the annual Jack rabbit round-up.
When we went in the manager, at the sight of the parson,
held up both hands. Seeing this the parson, pointing his
forefinger at the official, said, "We want three sleepers next
INIonday night and a dining car for Lemar." (Lemar being
a small station with no hotel accommodations it was necessary
to take bed and board in this way for about one hundred
persons for the annual hunt, with a baggage-car to bring
back the game). "It is yours to command," said the genial
official. I mention this to give the reader a little fuller in-
troduction to the parson and an insight into western hos-
pitahty. They go about it in a way that is both charming
and delightful. Parson Uzel is the Heniy Ward Beecher
of Colorado.

"Been here nineteen years," said the parson. "When I
was ready to build this church (a very fine modern building
seating over a thousand), I wrote a letter to some of my
sporting friends, ranchmen and miners, and they all responded
nobly. I went to the bank presidents of the city, and asked
each for a thousand dollars, and I never asked twice. The
contributions came in from ten cents to ten thousand dollars.
Then," said the parson, opening a door that led into
the beautiful audience room of the church, "tliis is the
result."

The writer never asked the denomination and he doubts
if either the church or the parson has any creed, but he is
inclined to tliink whatever name it goes by, it is an every day
denomination of every day religion, conducted on practical
lines, by a practical man Avho reaches the very class that most
sectarian churches reijel.

Speaking of practical religion, when President Roosevelt

E l»*-^4

1

With Horse and Hounds on the Western Plains 71

met the Rough Riders in a reunion in Colorado last year.
Parson Uzel was asked to deliver the address.

He dwelt on the real hravery of the men who carried for-
ward the anmiunition ; the men who carried the wounded from
the field ; the night pickets, and all others who were exposed to
fire, without taking part in the engagement. "This required
real courage," contended the parson: "These are the real
heroes of a battle, these are the men and boys to whom I take
off my hat with more profound respect than to the General
himself, who leads the charge."

This so pleased our sportsman President that he went on
the platform and said, "That's the kind of talk I like to hear,
but not everj'one is sportsman enough to admit it."

No wonder Colonel Roosevelt, like King Edward VII, is
so thoroughly loved and respected by the people. He is first
and last and all the time a genuine sportsman. Play fair
and fair play are his cardinal virtues. Snobbishness is foreign
to his nature. Thus the executive mansion has been con-
sistently graced by a democratic man, selected by a democratic
people to preside over a democratic nation.

Long live Colonel Roosevelt! Long live his example as
a President, as a sportsman, and as a man!

"So from their kennels rush the joyous pack;
A thousand zvanton gaieties express."

SorERVILE.

VI
JACK RABBIT HUNTING WITH GREYHOUNDS

"in the beginning" MESSES. BABTEL BROTHERS' FAMOUS

PACK — THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DOG SHOW ON EARTH —
COYOTE HUNTING AT COLORADO SPRINGS.

npHE good book says "in the beginning God created
•*■ the Heavens and the Earth." When coursing men wish
to tell you how long ago it was that the chase of the rabbit
and hare began, they use the same form of speech. They
saj', "In the beginning, the lord made a Rabbit and when
He looked upon him He said, 'Very good.' " It was dis-
covered that this new creature had an unusual turn of speed;
this suggested a similar animal to be especially adapted for
running, hence the Hare. Although the rabbit was himself
something of a sprinter the hare could run rings all about
him, and soon "streaked if out of sight and bounds. To
prevent a recurrence of this streaking business the greyhound
was invented, wath just enough speed to overtake and turn
the hare back on his track, thus keeping liim in view and from
racing out of bounds. This the coursing men say was the
origin of the rabbit, the hare, the greyhound and the chase.
It also accounts for man himself, who according to the same
authorities was built to enjoy the sport and to pass it along
down the generations to the end of time.

Jack linhhit Hunting With (irci/lioinidn 73

In claiminpf all this and more as the true history of the
heginning of the chase the writer mereh'- wishes to voice tlie
sentiments and traditions of coursing men and greyhound
fanciers the world over. It is harely possible, however, that
somewhere along down the line of traditional descent, some
entluisiastic lovers of the chase may have "said more than
their prayers," and that some allowances must be made for
the inaccuracy that invariably creeps into all traditions and
history. Nevertheless, there is an abundance of proof that
the greyhound is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, family
of the canine race. It is believed l)y many — Darwin not-
M-ithstanding — that the greyhound is the original stock from
whence all other branches of the race descended. They are
certainly not a modification of any other known species of
family. It is a well authenticated fact, also, that coursing
the hare was a favourite sport with our fathers, centuries
before the good news came to earth that "a child was born."
Yes, ages before this our fathers cheered on the chase as we
are cheering it on to this day. It may be a weakness perhaps
in coursing men to dwell as they do on the antiquity of their
favourite sport, but it is, after all, a happy reflection, to know
we are pursuing a game that our ancestors ])layed at centuries
before Rome was born; and still the grand old sport goes on
and its followers of to-day are living over and over again the
glorious days of their fathers, while ])reserving to the genera-
tions yet unborn the customs and traditions of the chase.

Xenophon (400 B. C), we are told, left a vivid descrip-
tion of hunting the hare, and a younger Xenophon, evidently
a 'chip off the old block,' has laid down the following rules,
which show there were real sportsmen two thousand years
ago. He says:

"Whoever courses with greyhounds should neither slip
them near the hare, nor more than a brace at a time, for
though the hare is remarkably swift-footed and has often

74 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

beaten many dogs, yet, being started from her form, she
cannot but be fluttered at heart and territied at the hallooing
and the hounds pressing close upon her; and in this way
many a noble hare has often ignobly perished without an
effort, showing no diversion worth mentioning." This is quite
true of rabbits and hares in general, but a Jack rabbit on the
plains of Colorado needs no such law or start before hounds
to give sportsmanlike sport.

Goldin's translation of Ovid gives the following vivid de-
scription of a chase.

"1 gat me to the knap
Of this same hill, and there behelde of this strange course the

hap.
In which, the beste seems one lohile caught, and ere a man

tcoiild thinke
Doth qiiicMy gin the grewnd the slip, and from his biting

shrinke;
And, like a rcily fox, he runs not directly out.
Nor makes a winlas over all the champion fields about.
But, doubling and indenting, still avoids his enemies' lips.
And turning short, as swift about as spinning-wheele, he wips
To disappoint the snatch. The grewnd pursuing at an inch.
Both cote him, never losing. Continually he snatches
In vaine, but nothing in his mouth save only hair he catches."

This only goes to show it is the same good old game and
is played to-day in the same good old way.

There are within four or five miles of Denver in any di-
rection plenty of Jack rabbits, and the Bartel Brothers
brought out their best hounds to show us how the sport is
managed.

From the kennels, the most reliable hounds go in couples;
the younger element in shps led by boys, either on horse-

Jack Rahhit IIitnliiKj fVith Grcijhuundti 15

back or in wagons, or with a bicycle. Arriving on the open
prairie, all the hounds are liberated. The reason they are
so securely handled while in town is that they are liable to
sight and take aCter some one's pet dog or cat and kill it
before any one can get near enough to stop them. These
hounds are mostly used for coursing and have won many of
the highest honours at the annual coursing meets in the
state. However, they are occasionally taken twenty-five tc
fifty miles out of town for a special day after coyote. This
is certainly the finest pack of greyhounds the writer has ever
seen. The Bartel Brothers are very painstaking breeders,
and have combined beauty, quality and utihty in their hound
breeding and succeeded at it as well if not better, than any
other hound breeder it has ever been the writer's good fortune
to meet in xVmerica.

There is an erroneous behef common to hound breeders
in America that a hound for the bench show is one thing,
while a hound for coursing is another. Just because it some-
times happens that an inferior looking hound wins in field
trials over bench winners, many men have come to the con-
clusion that beauty and sj^mmetry and quality are in some
way antagonistic to utihty.

The Bartel Bros, have demonstrated the falsity of this
argument and have proved over and over again that their
best winners for bench prizes have repeatedly carried off the
highest honours in a three days coursing trial. Tliis demon-
strates so forcibly what the writer has been most stoutly
contending, that he cannot refrain from calling attention to
it in this case.

As we ride along, ]Mr. Bartel gives us most glowing ac-
counts of this and that hound, dwelling upon his or her
principal points of excellence and not omitting, in equal fair-
ness, to call attention to their faults. This is the fastest:
that one, the best killer; the brindle bitch has the most en-

76 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

durance. That big fawn and wliite hound is best at sighting.
Dolly Varden always runs just back of Black Peter, who is
great at turning the hare, Dolly keeping just far enough
behind to receive the hare when turned. She makes one
grab for Jack's loin, and throws him high in the air to alight
among the others. This "running smart" on Dolly Varden's
part excludes her from field coursing, because the .hound
that turns puss is given more credit that the one that kills.
So one hound after another is discussed. Sometimes the talk
runs to heredity. "That's the grandson of the greatest hound
I ever owned and he is as near perfection as I ever expect
to get in a single hound ; he has won a number of bench trials,
but unfortunately he inherits, through his granddam, faulty
sight. If he jumps a Jack himself, he will stay by him to the
last, but if any other hound gets the start of him he loses
interest in the game and stops as soon as he begins to tire."
"This looks," we ventured to say, "more like jealousy than
a question of sight." "Perhaps you are right," said Mr.
Bartel, "but whatever it is, good as he is individually, I will
never breed from liim nor sell liim to anyone else to breed
from."

The writer mentions these things to show how thoroughly
alive a man must be to the subject of breeding, as well as
how intimately he must know the characteristics of each and
every member of the pack, and back of all that, the personal
knowledge of the faults and virtues for generations before
he can hope to make a permanent success of hound breeding,
or the breeding of any other animal. It is tliis very knowledge
and these facts that have made the breeding of domestic
animals so successful in England, where breeds come down
from great-grandsire to great-grandson. It also illustrates
why in America the breeding of all domestic animals is still
in its infancy. We are a new people, few of us have even
fathers before us who bred the same animals that we are

Jaclc liahhit Iluulnuj With (ircijhouiuJs 77

trying to produce. There is no royal road to success in
breeding, all the rules and axioms will help a person but little
if they do not know the animals they are breeding and their
progenitors, as well as they know the members of their own
family. Americans, as a rule, cannot bear to spend the time
to acquire tliis training. They are taken with a fancy for
this or that breed of dogs, or whatever it may be, and they
buy the best that money can produce without considering
further. Any one with money can buy a string of winners,
but it takes an artist, it takes a breeder, to produce them.
The writer has several times visited the great coursing events
in England, where noted greyhounds from every part of
Great Britain were assembled, but he never has seen in any
one man's stud, so many high class hounds as are owned by
Messrs. Bartel Brothers, of Denver, Colorado.

As we arrive out on the beautiful open plains, the hounds
are given full liberty. What a beautiful sight! How they
jump and play about the horses! Such agility, such grace,
such poetry of motion. In this they distance all other four-
footed animals. There is nothing like it. A grand pack of
well bred foxhounds is a sight to cheer the heart of any man
who loves a dog, or any other animal for that matter, but
a ride over the boundless plains with a pack of greyhounds
is the finest dog show on earth.

We walk our horses slowly on over the great table land
covered with short brown buffalo grass that affords less than
half concealment for INIr. Jack even when he lies as flat as
he can make himself between the tufts of grass.

His brownish grey colour, however, makes it quite im-
possible for man or hound to see him until he chooses to move
and when he does move he goes straight away, at such a fear-
ful gait that the saying "runs Hke a streak," fits him exactly.
Up to the moment he is "jumped" in the very midst of the
hounds, they have been running and jumping at each other in

78 TJie Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

an aimless sort of way. Mr. Bartel is in the midst of an
account of how Juno lost a cup, when up jumps Mr. Jack.
The hounds take an instant to recognise their game. They
sjiring to their chase, away go our mounts, who never wait to
receive the word. If you are ready, or can get ready on the
way, all right; but if you are not ready, no matter, go you
must ; for you must remember these western horses can begin
running from a standstill and they know the game.

First one hound then another leads. Dolly Varden is work-
ing for her usual position beliind Black Peter, who is only a rod
ahead of her. On and on goes ]Mr. Jack. Hounds and horses
skim the ground like a flock of birds. A big fawn and wliite
hound now takes the lead. A few rods more and the game is
done. No ! you make a mistake ; ISIr. Jack makes a sudden turn,
. the hounds go on. One or two hounds make a i:)ass at liim, but
he dodges right back through the hounds, who must take a M'ider
circle. Finally we are all straightened out again and once more
the race is on, but it is not for long. Once more JNIr. Jack shps
past their snapping teeth, but this time Dolly Varden is where
she wants to be and as the hare doubles again, dodging the
other hounds, Dolly turns in alongside and with a snap of her
jaw catches INIr. Jack by the small of the back and throws liim
feet uppermost high above her head only to light in the very
jaws of the jiack, that now have their sharp noses pointed for
their game. It's all over ; Dolly Varden, having done the trick
to her satisfaction, has gone on for a rod or so and stretched
herself at full length on the grass, her nose to the breeze; her
lolling tongue, her panting sides and rolling eyes, tell us what
the effort has cost her in wind and strength. IMan, horses,
hounds are quite content to rest awhile. 'Twas a glorious
charge, and as beautiful a run as one ever could wish to see.

After half an hour we are moving on again over the plains,
until three Jack rabbits have entered the preliminary stage to
the making of a stew, then we return slowly homeward, tired

Jack liahhil Iliiiitiiuj With (iiri/hoiind-s 79

but as happy as we are tired. Iluii'jfry:' Awfully huugry,
and with appetites to shame a lumberman.

"J run. sir. tc/// please j/ou far better than wine.
The further ijou (jallop, the better you'll dine."

The Colorado Sprin-^s Hunt Club is quite an extensive
organisation with a membership of about 200. Only a small
portion of the number, however, take an aetive part in the
chase. A more ideal country to ride and hunt coyote over
cannot be imagined.

The regular fixtures of the club are Wednesdays and Satur-
days.

These runs take place on the great plains in any direction
from the city one may care to ride. A five or ten mile ride
at most brings you to the game. Once a month the club send
their horses and hounds out fifteen to twenty-five miles by
rail, the evening before, to some ranch and go out on a sjiecial
train in the morning for an all day's hunt, making a basket
picnic of the affair. On these days they have from four to
six runs, and half as many kills. They picnic on the ])lains
wherever noon overtakes them, from a mess wagon, that fol-
lows the hunt. In the evening they return to town by the same
special train, or in a special car, attached to some regular train.
The writer just missed one of these monthly events by arriving
at Colorado Springs the day it was going on. The genial
master and owner of hounds, ]Mr. A. B. Nichols, and his hunts-
man, ]Mr. J. S. Kenyon, kindly offered to take the writer out
for a sample run near town and the invitation was gladly
accepted.

With a day's rest for the hounds after "the big hunt" — as
the monthly meet is called, — a few of the more enthusiastic
members were notified of the "by day" run and the next morn-
ing, at 7 :30, we mounted our horses and were off to the jilains.

80 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

It was a very beautiful daj' and the ride over the plains was
sometliing never to be forgotten.

The hounds were carried in a wagon especially built for the
purpose, a pair of white coach horses to draw it, and a smartly
dressed driver on the box to manage them.

Arriving on the plains, the Master begins riding more slowly
while the hound wagon and huntsman go on some forty to
eighty rods in advance. This hound wagon is kept on the low
land as much as possible while the huntsman rides to the eleva-
tions, anywhere within half a mile of the hounds.

There are holes in the top of the hound wagon through wliich
hounds may put their heads and thus keep a constant eye on
the movements of the huntsman.

The driver operates the opening of the door in the back end
of the wagon which instantly liberates the hounds, whenever
the huntsman lifts his hat as a signal, wliich he does only after
he has gotten as close up to the game as possible.

The tactics he uses in getting up to the game consist in
riding about liim in a circular way as if riding past but all
the time he is shortening the circle. The curiosity or stupidity
of the coyote enables the huntsman thus to come witloin forty
or eighty yards, when at the first symptoms of liis taking to
run the huntsman hfts his hat and rides after tlie coyote. The
hounds rush on to the huntsman, Avho is usually able to lead
them to a view of the game, and the chase is on. Seeing the
huntsman lift his hat is a signal, also, for the riders to race. A
coyote usually runs in a circle at first, unless pressed too hard.
The riders are generally able by riding to the right or left,
as indicated by the direction the huntsman is taking, to come
into the run behind the hounds.

On tliis open plain and in the clear transparent air the
chase is nearly always in full view from start to finish. Grey-
hounds, as everyone familiar with the breed knows, can follow
only as long as they can keep their game in view.

Jack liahhit IIiiiitiiKj With (ini/lioiiiids 81

This pack oi" lioinuls consists of six couples of pure grey-
hounds, two Russian wolfhounds and two Scotch deer or stag
hounds.

The greyhounds are decidedly the hest all-round hounds
for Jack rabhits and for coyote; the Scotch deerhound is a
good fighter, and his extra weight is of great assistance in
pulling down the game. The Russian wolfhounds, however,
are neither as fast nor do they have the endurance of the grey-
hound or Scotch staghound and they seem also lacking in
courage, seldom, if ever, making the first attack; at least this
is Mr. Kenyon's experience. The writer has since heard from
other sources that Russian wolfhounds alone are not partic-
ularly satisfactory after coyote.

"They are off," cries the ISIaster, who is the first to notice
the huntsman lifting his hat, and our horses are at full gallop
from the very first stride. They knew so well what was com-
ing and were so impatient for the signal that the start was
hardly less general than if a flag had fallen before them. The
writer will never forget that gallop over the plains. The short
brown buffalo grass made excellent footing for our horses, and
the way they raced it after the circling greyhounds, who were
but a rod or two behind their game, was something beautiful
to see, and something delightful to remember.

On went the chase, rising and falling to the undulating
plain, a streak of coyote followed by six streaking greyhounds,
that seemed to fly over the surface of the plain like a flock of
feeding swallows. The riders had nothing to do but let their
horses fly after them as fast as they could lay their feet to
the sod, and keep their eyes on the chase a quarter of a mile
away, the distance increasing all the time in spite of our horses'
best efforts.

On goes the coyote, on go the hounds! Now the question of
endurance begins to tell; the two younger hounds begin to
lag behind, and so on until two more of the six are beginning

82 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

to fail, but two others are racing it neck and neck for their
game, and are gaining, surely gaining. What a race, the coyote
is taking for the public park; can he ever reach the wire fenc-
ing that surrounds it ? If he does and can go a few rods farther,
he will run out of view among the shrubs and rocks and the
game will be lost.

The two leading hounds seem to take in the situation and put
on their last ounce of steam in one mighty effort to reach their
game. One of the two leading hounds is beginning to lag and
there is an open space of a rod between him and the leader,
who is now but a few feet from the coyote's brush. Then as if
the coyote had run himself to a standstill, the grand old hound
overtakes and catches him in a way to roll him over but his
own momentum is so great he cannot stop. However, hound
number two, wliich had, as Mr. Kenyon afterwards exjjlained,
purposely lagged behind, was on to the coyote before he could
recover his feet. By this time the leading hound had returned
to take a hand in the struggle. In a moment more the other
hounds joined in the battle, but it was already over. With
the coyote hanging from an attendant's saddle, we jog back
to town, in ample time to change before lunch and see the taxi-
dermist who was to mount the coyote's head for the wall, and
pelt for a rug, for these trophies had been presented to the
writer as a souvenir of his most delightful visit at Colorado
Springs, the most beautiful citj'' of all the great plains.

"And ardent we pursue; our lah'ring steeds.
We press, "vce urge; till once the summit gain'd.
PainfulUj panting, there we breathe awhile;
Then like a foaming torrent, inuring down
Precipitant, we smoke along the vale."

Somen'ile.

VII

COYOTE HUNTING ON THE PLAINS OF
COLORADO

THE GRE.VT PLAINS AT SUNRISE — RANCH LIFE — THE ANTELOPE
CHASE — THE OLD CATTLEJIAN — A GOOD SHOT — THE RIDE OF
THE TENDERFOOT — ROPING A COYOTE.

A RMED with raihvaj^ passes and an order from the Divi-
■^*- sion Superintendent to stop the Union Pacific night ex-
press at Kit Carson, we (Mr. Petrie, ]Mr. Steepleton, the
writer, and six of JNIr. l*etrie's best coyote greyhounds) left
Denver, full of hope and running over with expectation. "I
shall not be satisfied," said Mr. Petrie, "if we come back with
less than six coyote pelts. For the last thirteen years I have
been promising an old friend and ranchman down there that
I Avould bring my hounds down, and give the coyotes on his
ranch a roimd trip up and a dance worth the money."

"The thirteen years," said JNIr. Steepleton, "is not a very
good number to go on for luck, besides, to-morrow is the 13th of
December, and Kit Carson is 113 miles from Denver. Also,
we are starting on Friday. That's a pretty stiff combination

84 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

to bank against, and I allow you all will have to beat the game
a whole lot to win out."

The writer has alreadj^ made mention of INIr. Petrie and
his hounds. Pie needs no further introduction than to say
he is the general manager of the Union Stock Yards at Denver,
and Mr. Steei^leton, familiarly known as "Steeplechase Char-
ley," is Mr. Petrie's ranch foreman. Steepleton had come on
to Denver with a lot of fat cattle from Mr. Petrie's own herd.
The year on the ranch had been most successful, and JNIr.
Petrie, wanting an excuse to keep liis foreman with him for a
few days, hit upon this coyote hunt as the means of killing
two birds with one stone; i. e. — to give the writer, who was a
tenderfoot at ranch life, and his old cattleman, a bit of sport
that would galvanise the former, and give the latter something
to tell the iboys about when he returned to the ranch. INIr.
Petrie didn't say all this, but putting two and two together,
that's about the way it ciphered out.

The foreman's dissertation on the unlucky 13 was passed
by Mr. Petrie in silence. Mr. Petrie, however, looked much
as if he w^as making a mental resolve to cram that super-
stitious notion down the old cattleman's throat when the
proper time came.

Finally the hounds were carefully put aboard the baggage
car, and we looked for a place in the smoker, as best suited
to pass away the night from 9 p. m., to one o'clock the next
morning, at which hour we were to land at Kit Carson. jNIr.
Petrie and liis foreman talked cattle straight away, and cross
ways, and sideways and backwards. Then they went over
the ranch both cornerways and square, then more cattle, and
ranch and cattle together. The writer went to sleep, and
when he woke they were at it still. It was very evident that
although Mr. Petrie was fond of his business at the stock
yards, his heart was on the ranch where, as he said, he had
spent the happiest days of liis life. His own ranch was in

POOR MR. COYOTE

THE AUTHOR WITH THE FII

I 0Mlklfk^^^^-^

I

Coyote Hunting on the Plains of Colorado 85

tlie "hill and bush" country. The one we were goins to was
on the plains.

Our train was nearly two hours late on arrival at Kit Car-
son. Our host had left a lantern to meet us. Mr. Petrie
managed the six hounds, while Steepleton and the writer came
on with the hand baggage.

Arriving at the ranch, we went into a small detached build-
ing about 10 X 14, in which we found a lighted lamp, one
double bed and a single bed. ]Mr. Petrie, in the meantime,
had found a stable for the hounds and we were soon turned in.
It was freezing cold, but there were six blankets and a com-
fortable over us, flannel sheets to sleep between, a straw tick
that served as a mattress, and a network of ropes that did
duty in lieu of springs.

^Ve were called up before the sun. It was hard work, but
seeing a suiu-ise over the great ])lains was, to the writer, worth
all the effort and discomfort of the trip. To come to such a
place in the middle of the night, and wake up in the morning
with a great undulating jjlain stretching miles away in every
direction, not a single farm house or a rod of fence, a tree, or
a shrub even in sight.

The vastness of the plains, no pen has ever described it.
Plain, plain, everywhere plain! The sunrise was like one at
sea, a great yellow-browii sea of buffalo grass with undula-
tions that rose and fell like the swells of the ocean, but nowhere
a break to the evenness of the horizon. No one could have a
more interesting or more fascinating introduction to the plains
or to ranch life than at this particular spot, and in this peculiar
way. It was to the writer one of the most interesting and
impressive sights he ever beheld. No highways, not even a
trail. If you wanted to go anj^vhere, you steered a trackless
course across the plains to reach there by the straightest line.
The ocean is vast, but it is ever changing, ever in motion. It
seldom looks the same, two days in succession, but the plain is

86 The Hmiting Field With Horse and Hound

one immovable, unchangeable, sombre, brown sea, — still, silent,
vast. It makes one feel so small, so insignificant, so isolated
— like an infinitesimal speck on some new and uninhabited
planet. It seems to subdue you, quiet you. You don't
feel like talking. A man cuts a very small figure in the
middle of a hundred acre lot. Think of setting him down in
a hundred thousand acre field, or shall I say a hundred milUon
acre field. No wonder the Westerner comes up with large
ideas; nothing is too big or vast for him. Broadmindedness
is one of his many virtues.

Here and there, in whatever direction you cast your eyes,
you see detached herds of grazing cattle, sometimes a single
animal with miles between it and others, then bunches number-
ing from several dozen to as many hundred. The air there —
as all over Colorado — is wonderfully clear and transparent,
objects miles away seemed only half their real distance. One
could see cattle at a distance that made them look like black
spots the size of one's hat. What a beautiful morning it was,
clear and crisp as a new dollar bill. As we stood admiring
the view and in awe of its vastness and stillness, a lusty rooster
calls out, and behold to the eastward, comes the dawn of day;
the smaller stars go out, only the planets are left to burn.
Again the herald of the morning calls and straightway the
silver light of the east is tinged with the gold, which in turn
gives way to a ruddy cast. Then with more assurance still,
the barnyard trumpet sounds the final call. The cur-
tain of the morning falls aside and in a blazing car of fire
comes forth — the sun, the sun! "Glory and beauty of
the day."

It has been said there was nothing to break the general
evenness of the horizon. Wrong! like the white sails of a ship
at sea, whose hull is below the horizon, behold the majestic
snow-capped sunmiit of Pike's Peak over a hmidred miles
away.

Coyote JIuntiiKj on tlic Plains of Colorado 87

Now we notice two mounted cowboys, some two miles dis-
tant, bringing in a drove of horses. From these were to be
selected the ones the six cowboys were to ride on their regular
work, and enough for our host and his visitors in the chase of
the coyote. Each cowboy has five horses which he rides in
turn. The whole lot are corralled every morning. The horses
which are to be used next are caught or roped, and saddled
ready for the day. The others are then liberated to roam at
will until the following morning. One day's work and five
days' rest. Their one work day is very severe, they are under
saddle from sunrise until nearly dark. The saddle weighs
from forty to fifty pounds and the distance covered is very
great.

Now we look about at the ranch buildings. In addition to
the little detached one-story box building, which we occupied
for the night, there was a similar building occupied by the cow-
boys of the ranch. A building about 10 x 14 with four bunks
on each side wall, two upper and two lower, and two at the
end of the room opposite the door and window. These were
the sleeping quarters for the regular ranch hands that vary
from six to eight, wth an extra bunk or two for visiting cow-
boys, who may chance to be in that neighbourhood looking for
stray cattle^

The owner's quarters were also built one story high of sod,
which is cut from the spot into blocks about 4 x 8 x 12 inches.
These blocks or sods of earth were laid up like so many stones
or bricks, in a thin mud (mortar) of the same material. The
walls themselves are about 8 inches thick, studded, lathed and
plastered on the inside. This main building contained three
rooms, a kitchen or mess-room, and two bedrooms, one for the
])roprietor, the other for the ranch foreman and his wife, who
in tliis case cooked for all.

Another detached 10x14 earth building was devoted to
provision, general stores and ranch su])plies. The stables, also

88 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

of earth, were low and formed one side of a corral made of old
railroad ties set on end and close together. Tliis was for horses.
The cattle corral, or branding pen, joins the horse corral and
is also circular in form, with a recess for heating branding
irons. It is within the former enclosure that the young horses
are driven, roped and saddled; and in the latter, the j^ear's
crop of calves are roped, thrown, and branded. So far as
buildings go, the above describes the requirements of a 10,000
acre cattle ranch, that carries from three to four thousand
head of cattle and about a hundred head of horses, all ages
included.

The buildings were duly inspected while the cowboys had
their breakfast, after which our host says, "Come," and without
more ado we file into the dining room and take a seat any-
where on the bench where a plate is waiting. The knives
and forks are of iron, the spoons of tin. The provisions well
cooked and abundant — ham and eggs, boiled potatoes, cream,
gravy, corn bread, buckwheat cakes and coffee. No apologies,
no ceremony, what you cannot reach, ask for; if you don't
get all you want, it's your own fault.

While breakfast with our host is being served, the cowboys
ride away for the day's work, which at this time consisted of
cutting out the best conditioned cattle and rounding them up
to the ranch, preparatory to driving them to the railroad station
and earring them for market. It would be interesting to fol-
low this work for a week and end up by riding twenty-
seven miles Saturday evening after supper, to a dance
where there were seven women and twenty men; but this is
what we have in anticipation for our next visit to the plains.
For the present we must confine ourselves to the chase.

Breakfast over, we go to the shed, to find our horses saddled
and bridled, and a team hitched to a wagon that is to carry the
hounds. Mr. Petrie, Steepleton, our host and the writer are
to go mounted.

vEADY TO START

FTKK TIIK Kl

Coyote Hunting on the Plains of Colorado 89

It was the writer's first experience in a ranchman's saddle,
and he felt as if he were sitting in the crotch of a tree. The
pommel of the saddle came as high as the lower pockets in his
waistcoat in front, and the cantel as high as his waistband
beliind; the most awkward part was that the stirrup leathers
were so far back he was obliged to ride with a nearly straight
leg and long stirrup leathers. It was a pleasure to see ]SIr.
Petrie and his old foreman swing themselves into their saddles;
adjusting their stirrup to the left foot, they catch hold of the
pommel of the saddle, and drop into their scats with apparently
no effort at all. As they do so, they raise the reins, in the
left hand, high above the pommel, and with a slight pressure
of the reins to the right or left against the horse's neck, with
a sway of the body in the same direction, they are off. In
fact the whole thing is accomplished like one motion, and before
they have fairly reached their seat, their horses are making the
turn, and under way.

They use a gag bit with single reins, a very harsh bit which
they leave severely alone, the horse being guided hy ])ressure
of the reins against the neck, and a swaying of the body, and
stopped mostly by word. These reins are long, but are on no
account fastened together. When the cowboy wishes to dis-
mount, he allows both of these reins to fall on the groujul. The
horse will feed about, but not attempt to go away until the reiiis
are taken up. While they drag on the ground, the horse is as
good as hitched.

The hounds were loaded into an imjjrovised crate of wire
netting, with the back end of the crate on hinges, and held in
place by a rope that went forward to the driver's seat. Should
hounds be needed, all the driver had to do was to slacken the
rope, when the hounds would rush out and away in pursuit of
their game. As already mentioned, greyhounds can only
follow the chase as long as the animal they are pursuing can
be kept in sight. Therefore, on the undulating ])lain, it was

90 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

most important to start them on the best possible terms with
their game. Thus equipped and ready, we all moved slowly
on over the great plain.

Presently, in a depression of ground that had once been
a buffalo wallow, JNIr. Coyote was sighted. The wagon was
headed that way at the time, and ]Mr. Petrie directed it to the
right as if moving on past the coyote, and then to continue
on in a circular course, always drawing in a little nearer, as
already described in a former chapter. The riders, meanwhile,
rode side by side on the opposite side of the wagon. Presently,
tliis scavenger of the plains ran slowly on to a rise of ground
that gave him a more commanding view. On went the wagon,
ever headed as if passing, but all the time drawing in towards
the pivot of attraction. The plan was, the instant the coyote
started to run, as he was ultimately sure to do, to liberate the
hounds, while the riders rushed on with whip and sj)ur to gain
the elevation. Thus far the hounds would, of course, be led
on by the riders, but the instant they reached the liighest point
of ground, they were expected to sight the game and go on
with the chase, the riders followng on as fast as their horses
could be made to go, for no horse could be expected to keep
pace with the hounds.

Nearer and nearer we approach our game, which stands
all absorbed in curiosity at the moving wagon and riders, that
from his point of view seem always moving past him. Finally,
when we are within one hundred yards of him, he turns and
runs. "Hounds!" shouts Mr. Petrie. The cage door drops —
out rush the hounds. INIeanwhile the riders have sent their
horses after the coyote with all possible speed. The hounds
soon overtake and pass us just as Ave i-each the highest point of
ground. But what a sight! Away went the coyote towards a
herd of some fifteen or twenty antelopes, which in turn began
to run. The antelopes being the principal moving object to
attract the eye of the hounds, they took after them, and I

Coyote Hunting on the Plains of Colorado 91

venture to say such a beautiful race for at least four miles has
seldom been witnessed.

Mr. Petrie called to his hounds in vain. On they went,
faster and faster, until in the first mile they came within four
or five rods of the last antelope in the herd. Then some of
them began to lag, but "jNIack," INIr. Petrie's greatest hound
for speed and endurance, carried on the chase with ever a wider
opening between himself and his companions, until finally at
the end of about a three mile run, the antelope began to draw
away from the resolute iNIack, and in another mile or less he,
also, had to own defeat. We all rejoiced in the wonderful sight
except jSIr. Petrie, who looked decidedly downcast. He was
thinking that after such an exhausting race the prospect of
catching a coyote that day was decidedly slim; thus his heart
was troubled and his countenance glum. The only compen-
sation, poor as it Avas, was the unstinted praise his old foreman
and the writer gave to the greatest race either had ever beheld,
or is ever likely to again.

We had raced away at the top of our horses' speed, and
the greyhounds had passed us as if we were standing still.
Mr. Petrie was leading and when he took in the situation, he
drew rein, and we followed his example.

The old cattleman signalised his pleasure and approbation
of the wonderful sight in four words that summed up the
whole situation with directness and clearness, if not with
elegance. It told of his surprise, his wonderment, his ])leasure.
At the same time it was his way, at least, of complimenting
Mr. Petrie and the hounds. His body swung in the saddle,
his horse came up alongside that of his despondent employer,
and this is what he said. "Well, I'll be damned!" ^Ir. Petrie
smiled his thanks, and we rode on to collect the hounds.

The poor hounds came straggling back to the wagon, done
to a turn. It was hard to say which had suffered most, for each
one of them had simply run himself or herself to a stand-

92 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

still. When at last they reached the wagon, they threw them-
selves at full length on the short huffalo grass, as if they had
lain down to die. IMr. Petrie now goes to the wagon, takes
out a jug of water, and placing his hat on the ground, dents
in the crown, and into the indenture pours the refreshing gurg-
ling draught. One hound after another staggers up at the
sound, to quench his tliirst. Last, of course, comes the indom-
itable Mack, who had led the chase and carried on the war
single-handed when all the others had quit.

We now dismounted and took our lunch, although it was
little beyond 11 o'clock. It Avas a good idea, for it not only
refreshed the hounds, but gave ISIr. Petrie a little hope that we
might still snatch victory from defeat. "I had set my heart on
six coyote pelts which would make j'ou a robe to take back
East. I shall be thankful after this misfortune if we secure
one. It all comes from my not knowing the country. Tliis
will never happen again."

Defeat is one of the characteristic features of the chase ; if
everything worked out as one expected, there would be little
interest in the game.

Lunch over, hounds are put up, the crate is blanketed to
exclude all draughts, and we are off again.

An hour later we sighted another coyote, and the same
tactics were resorted to as before. Away we went ; the hounds
ran better than could be expected. The coyote, however, ran
to a pal of his in a small ravine, and the hounds split and finally
ran their game out of view and returned to the wagon.

About two hours later we sighted again. This time hounds
had fair sailing, and such a ride to hounds I have seldom
experienced. Mr. Petrie on a magnificent grey, nearly, if not
clean, thoroughbred, set the pace for riders and hounds for
a distance of nearly three miles. Greyhounds usually come to
their coyote in a mile or less. As they had already shot their
bolt for speed their endurance alone could, in a measure, make

Coijotc II nil tine/ on the Plains of Colorado 93

up for the loss; and it (litl, for presently Mack caught the
coyote by the hind leg and threw him on his back. His own
speed, however, was so great that he went on past his game.
The other hounds were too far behind to complete the job as
usual. IMack turned, and before the coyote had recovered his
feet and gone a rod, he downed him again. By this time, the
pack, cheered on by INIr. Petrie, arrived and took a hand in the
game. The unusually long run had told on them so that they
would no more than (lown their game, then panting for breath,
would loosen their hold, when the coyote would get u]) and go
on again. ]Mr. Petrie cheered on his hounds, the cattleman
expressed himself in his usual lucid fashion, first at the coyote,
then at the hounds. So the battle went on for a distance of at
least forty rods, when little "Black Lady," already sore and
bleeding from several wounds the coyote had inflicted, took
him by the throat, and never let go her hold until after the
other hounds retired, being satisfied their game was dead.

"I do believe," said the foreman, "that little black hound
would tackle a mountain lion. She is a dead game sport to
the end of her tail. She took no chances .on that coyote coming
to life again like he had been doing every time they thought he
had passed in his checks. She's a lone hand, isn't she?" con-
tinued the old cattleman in great delight.

The writer regrets to have to chronicle tliis rather bungling
kill, but he hopes his readers will not take this as the rule.
Generally the struggle is over in a moment or two when the
leading hound is well supported. Where the coyote lands the
first time, he goes on his back; there as a rule the battle ends.
The wonder is that after the unfortunate circumstance of
the morning, the hounds were able to run for a rod, to say
nothing of a kill.

On the way to join the wagon, INIr. Petrie sighted another
coyote. He could not resist leading his bounds on again, but
they were too tired and foot sore to go on with the chase. Find-

94 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

ing himself alone with the coyote, Mr. Petrie put spurs to liis
horse, cut across the circle the coyote was making, and while
running at full speed he dropped him with a second shot from
his revolver.

"That gun play of yours," said the old cattleman, as Mr.
Petrie proceeded to tie the dead coyote to the back of his saddle,
"that gun play of yours has lost but little by coming to town ;
we all take off our hats." And so we did, and swung them too
with a cheer. Was ever a compliment more neatly jjut? As
usual it left nothing more to say.

So far as the events of the second day went, there was little
to redeem the day before. Three coyotes were started, with but
one score, but the way this was done puts to shade all former
kills, and I doubt if a similar experience has ever been
recorded.

There was one fruitless run in the morning, and none after
lunch until we were nearly home, when we came upon five or
six coyotes in the neighbourhood of a carcass that was evidently
of recent death, probably a sickly animal that the coyotes had
pulled down. JNIr. Petrie was riding with the proprietor on
the wagon leading his horse. His cattleman had gone off by
himself to inspect a herd of steers. Taking in the situation at
a glance Mr. Petrie says to the writer "as your horse seems to
have had about enough, take mine and when we get as near
to the coyotes as possible, lead on the chase." ]Mr. Petrie is
a good six feet and his stirrup leathers too long for the writer
by as many inches. Instead of buckles by which to shorten
them, these stirrup leathers were laced with leather strings.
The writer managed to get one unlaced and shortened while
riding slowly on towards the coyotes, but before he had time
to shorten the other Mr. Petrie shouted "Hounds.'' There was
no waiting for adjustment of stirrup leathers. Out piled the
hounds, and away we went. Hounds came on to equal terms
with the rider, but they gave up the game in the first three-

MR E J. CAMEKON WITH A ROPED

MR. petrie's hounds: the kill

Coyote Hunting on the Plains of Colorado 95

quarters of a mile. It was a pity, for the coyote, carrying such
a picnic dinner, could not have held out for any great distance.
But such a ride the writer has rarely experienced. On went his
mount long after the hounds had stopped running, the loose
dangling stirrup spurring him on. He pulled at his horse, but to
no account; side by side he ran with that coyote, as if trying
to turn a runaway steer. The writer knew the race must come
to a stop sometime, and that all outdoors was before them.
Down a gradual descent for a mile, horse and coyote had it neck
and neck. This brought them to a dry ditch or creek, which
the writer wished at all events to avoid. lie pulled with all his
might on his right hand rein, as they were going at it obliquely,
but not an inch would tlie horse give to his pull. Nearer and
nearer came the ditch ; both hands were now pulling at the one
rein; you might as well have tried to change the course of a
shooting star. Down into the ditch, a perpendicular drop of
about three feet, went horse and coyote— up, and out the
opposite side, wliich was less abrupt. There was nothing to do
but to ride it out. The writer began to feel his weakness, Iiis
eyes were nearly blinded by fiUing with water at the cutting
wind. Another half mile, and still the horse could not head the
coyote nor the coyote get away. Again he pulled and tugged
with all his might against the bit, to no purpose whatever, and
it began to dawn on the rider that he was being run away with.
It was evident that the horse had never undertaken to head a
steer without succeeding and to turn back in defeat was not in
the lexicon of his experience. Presently it occurred to the
writer to try to rein the horse by the neck. This brought him
about hke the pressure of a tiller to a sail-boat, and the race
of the tenderfoot was over.

Just as this pair returned to the wagon, another coyote was
sighted, but a few rods to the left. This was the cattleman's
turn (he having returned meantime) , and away he went. The
hounds deserted him in the first hundred rods, but his coyote

96 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

also was too full to run properly, and we saw the cattleman
gradually gaining.

"He is going to rope the coyote," cried JNIr. Petrie, and sure
enough around and around the cattleman's head circled the
open noose. No, he has missed. The rope gathered in hand
over hand, while the horse raced on at the top of liis speed,
was soon cutting the air once more in circling the cattleman's
head. Suddenly it leaves liis hand. "Done!" cries Mr. Petrie.
No sooner does the open noose reach its mark than the cattle-
man's body is thrown back in the saddle, his horse braces his
feet for a sudden halt. Mr. Coyote comes to the end of liis
halter, and turns a somersault. INIeantime the horseman has
turned his mount as if on a pivot, and from the first stride is
cantering him back towards the wagon, the lassoed coyote at
one end of his lariat, the other fast to the pommel of liis
saddle.

It was, to the writer's mind, the most marvellous feat he had
ever seen in the saddle, and he undertook to say so, but the old
cattleman would have none of it. He interrupted vnih, "That's
nothing, the httle devil was so full of cow he couldn't run worth
a damn."

"Of our sport and our tvelcome none ever complain.
If you, come to us once, we shall see you again."

Rhymes in Red.

VIII

THE GENESEE VALLEY

THE VALLEY ITSELF — NATURE OF THE LAND HUNTED O^-ER — THE
NATIVES — ^yHY THEY LO\'E THE VALLEY — A VISIT TO THE
KENNELS.

IT seems difficult to write of the Genesee Valley hounds with-
out first introducing the reader to the famous valley itself,
and the nature of the country hunted.

While the natives will tell you "the hunt is one of the oldest
in America," and "the hunters are the best in the world," the
valley comes first in their affections. You will have to hear all
about it sooner or later, so we may as well devote a few lines
to attempt to show you what it is like. Just a glance, so that
should you visit there, or meet one of the natives, you will have
the good taste to talk valley to them, or rather let them talk
valley to you. It is their weakness, perhaps, but it is policy
to indulge it. Pcrhajis you have been there and know it by
heart, and can, like the natives, sing its praises with variations.
In that case, you had better skijj what folloAvs, for you are
sure to be disappointed in the writer's attempt.

Everyone agrees in saying the Genesee Valley is the most
beautiful, most fertile spot in the State of New York, and those
who have travelled most in America and abroad, say there is
but one Genesee Valley in the world.

98 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

If you would see the valley at its finest, "Come up," as
Joshua Whitcomb says, "in the spring-time, when nature is
doing its best, and let the scarlet-runners chase you back to
childhood." If you would see it in its prime, postpone your
visit until mid-summer, when the yellow harvest fields checker
the landscape in squares of gold, filling the barns with plenty
and the granaries to overflowing. But if you would see the vale
in all its beauty and loveliness, come up when the first hazy
atmosphere of October has subdued the fiercer rays of a sum-
mer sun. When the glorious colours of autumn have touched
each leaf, when the squirrels are at harvest, and the woodcock
and partridge are fit — then is the time to come to the valley,
for then it is that apples and cider are plenty and the rich
golden pumpkins make heavenly pie. Is that not enough to
start you? Then listen to the huntsman's horn, and the melo-
dious chorus of the pack, how it echoes from wood to wood,
from hill to hill, proclaiming the glorious news that a chicken-
thief fox is afoot, and retribution hard after. That is the time
to come to the valley ; unless you have eyes without seeing, ears
without hearing, and a heart that is in the wrong place alto-
gether— so that your blood runs backwards — "You're a goner."
All your sorrows, disajipointments, wrongs, vexations, sickness,
cares, all, all, are gone. Can the gods offer more? No, but
the Genesee Vallians can. They can

"Give you a mount and a field you can count.
And a fox that is willing to go.
Hounds you cannot surpass, a full cry on the grass.
What more would you wish for below?"

The noble Genesee river enters the valley from a gorge
wherein it has been confined for the last fourteen miles; viz.,
from the falls at Portage, whence it winds its tortuous way
between walls of solid masonry three to four hundred feet liigh.

The Genesee Valley 99

and in a succession of rapids, until it discharges into the valley
at Scjuawkie Hill, the writer's home, and then goes on in a
more peaceful way to Lake Ontario. The Genesee river gorge
is one of the most romantic, most interesting, most heautiful
canoe trips in, — well, in the world, let him who can, dispute it.
At times many of the rapids are quite formidable enough to
open your eyes and close your mouth, and to make your scalp
lock stand on end; but you would not have missed it for a
thousand.

The Genesee Valley was once u])on a time a great lake,
some forty miles long, and two to three miles wide.

The northern barrier of this lake, near Rochester, New
York, finally gave way, and the lake l)ecame a valley, with the
river cutting through tlie centuries of deposit, and accumulated
wash of the great Alleghany watershed. This deposit is over
a hundred feet deep, and accounts for the remarkable fertility
of the soil. The valley was, according to Indian tradition,
never wooded. This theory is confirmed by the earliest history
of the countrj', and is one of the strongest proofs of the lake
theory.

The hills on either side of the valley grow higher and higher
as you go from north to south, until they are over one thousand
feet high. These hills are cut and seamed by ditches, gullies and
ravines without number. They make most formidable barriers
in following the chase, and in addition to the usually well tim-
ber-fenced i)astures, require of the hunter that he shoukl be the
stoutest, the most courageous, and altogether the best all-
round animal that is to be found in the e(]uine race. Besides
being a good timber jumper, he must be schooled to all sorts
and conditions of ditches; to clamber down into ravines as
sure-footed as a goat, and out again as if crawling up the side
of a mansard roof.

These gullies and ravines afford Reynard most secluded
retreats. They are a veritable haven of refuge. It is quite

100 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

impossible to have a run of any reasonable distance that does
not include the crossing of from one to half a dozen of these
gullies. To attempt to ride around them, either above or below,
usually means to ride yourself out of the chase altogether.
Often when you have reached the opposite side of one of these
ravines or gullies you find Reynard has turned back into it
again. Many of these ravines have a beginning near the crest
of the liills, and grow gradually deeper and wider, until a
ditch becomes a gully ; a gully a ravine, a ravine a gorge, with a
distance of two or three miles from source to valley. In mid-
summer most of these ditches are dry, while in the breaking
of spring and during the autumn rains, they are roaring tor-
rents, cascades and waterfalls. They go from extreme to ex-
treme in a presto change order. In some places, the "Seven
Gullies" for instance, you no sooner negotiate the opposite bank
of one, than another a httle deeper and steeper confronts you.
These gullies are from fifty to a hundred and fifty feet deep,
and have a pitch of 45 degrees or less. They are mostly wooded,
and dense with underbrush.

The usual method of negotiating these gulUes is to dis-
mount and lead your horse down to the bottom, then catch
hold of his tail and scramble up the best you can. Some horses
have to be led, and more than one has taken a header. Cross-
ing these gullies is usually a sort of "follow the leader" game,
there being but one or two, possibly three, trails by wlaich it
is possible to go in and out of them.

The great flat lands of the valley are mostly owned by the
Wadsworths, and are principally devoted to pasture, so that
when a fox — which is not very often — leads the way across
these beautiful fields of fifty to three hundred acres in extent,
you may have such a gallop as is only enjoyed over the great
"grass lands" of England.

In a word the Genesee Valley, for the most part, is a timber
country, rail or worm-fence, mostly stake and rider, ditches,

MAJOR \V. A. WADSWORTH. M. F. H.

The Genesee Valley 101

gullies, and wooded ravines — a hard country to ride, but
it is the making of all-round hunters and all-round riders,
as well.

It is a regular hunting day for the Genesee hounds. We
will start early so as to call on the jNIastcr, Major Austin
W'adsworth, and pay a visit to the kennels, before it is time to
go to the "meet." We will, therefore, send our hunters slowly
on by the stable boy.

"Wait a moment," INIadam is calling. "Going away with-
out sandwiches," she adds; "just like a man! Such thought-
less creatures! You need as much looking after as a lot of
girls."

She has provided for us, in anticipation of a long day, a
stack of sandwiches, something, as Jorrock says, "For the wear
and tear of our teeth." IMadam saj'S, "It is to prevent our
breeding a famine in her pantry when we return." When thus
relieved of her sandwiches and a piece of her mind as to the
inferiority of man and the necessity of a woman to look after
him, we are off. Of course we must leave ]\Iadam ^\•ith the last
word, it is a duty incumbent u])on all good sjjortsmen. Besides
it is best to take her sandwiches and indulge her in the belief
that she is in the })rogranu)ie for the day, and to have a cut and
dried compliment ready for her thoughtfulness and the quahty
of her cookery on our return; it is wisdom. A compliment is
an excellent thing to have standing to a man's credit; it
is "a very present help in time of trouble," and man is
born to trouble. "Ware" trouble, Author, and get on to the
kennels.

Now we are off, but in passing through Cuylerville, on our
way to Geneseo, the inhabitants of that jjcaceful little hamlet
would think we were thoughtless, if we neglected to mention
that it was here that the Seneca Indians had built the great
"Chen-na-see castle," a very large settlement of Indians, which
was, we believe, the capital of "The Six Nations." and from

102 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

which the river and the valley have taken their names. It was
to destroy this famous, or rather infamous settlement, that
General Washington sent liither the Sulhvan expedition.

'On the way we shall point out to you the "Bigtree Farm,"
the property of Mr. Craig and liis hrother, J. S. Wadsworth,
so-called from its having at one time the famous "Bigtree"
(since blown down) celebrated in history, story and song, as
the official rendezvous, or State Capitol of the Six Nations.
From the council fire, here, the young bucks were sent, as
runners, with messages to the chiefs of the different tribes,
as far east as the Hudson, west into Ohio and south into
Pennsjdvania. It was underneath the Bigtree, a section of
wliich has been preserved on the Hon. James Wadsworth's
lawn, that the famous speeches of "Red Jacket," "Corn
Planter" and "Logan" were made.

It was here the Six Nations buried the hatchet and smoked
the pij^e of peace with the representatives of Washington.
"What," you may ask, "has this to do with hounds and
hunting in the Genesee Valley?" Notliing, save a bit of sen-
timent, which the natives are fond of keeping alive. We simply
wish to add tliis sentimental colouring to the trees of the valley,
and to remind you as you ride along the banks of the noble
waters of the "Chen-na-see," of the red man, who once loved
it as well.

It was here the returning warrior came to court his "dusky
mate." It was the same old story that many a paleface has
found the heart and courage to repeat, as he paddled along
these shady banks in the light of a harvest moon.

We are nearing the village of Geneseo and a fond recol-
lection comes over us, as we recall the tempting menus of the
"Big Tree Inn" — "A Hotel for Sportsmen Designed."

It is during the last mile before we reach the village, that
we shall be able to show you one of the most beautiful views
to be had of the valley. From here you will see the great

The Gcncsce Vallcij 103

pasture fields and follow the windings of the noble stream
by the luxuriant growth of overhanging poplars that fringe
its banks, forming in many ])laces a dense shaded archway,
under which the waters dally along in graceful eddies, or
linger in deeper pools before venturing on over the next
gravelly shoal that obstructs its usually slow and dignified
way.

You here observe how much the landscape resembles the
most beautiful parts of rural England. Nowhere in America,
I believe, can be found so good a representation of English
country scenery, as are the fields which form this particular
view.

When the original pioneer, Wadsworth, came to the vallej%
he brought with him a love for the beautiful, and a tree was
among the first on the hst. Fortunately his descendants, who
inherited these broad acres, have had the good sense and good
taste to leave the fields studded with great forests, oaks, maples,
hickory, black walnut and butternut, giving to the landscape,
as in England, the appearance of a great park. This feature
and the fertility of the soil is one of the most noted character-
istics of the Genesee Valley.

Beneath the foliage of wide spreading trees, the suckling
and weanling hunters sport and play, and the matronly look-
ing in-foal mares lie dreaming of the chase or counting the
hunt cups their unborn foals are to capture at Madison Square,
where they themselves have won high honours and the applause
of thousands.

It is here also, in detached herds, that the bullocks lie,
gracefully dipping their wide-spreading horns in unison with
the milling of the sweet tender grasses they hurriedly col-
lected, fresh with the morning dew. Their half dropping
ej'clids, the expression of ecstasy, contentment and solid com-
fort, their mellow hides and sleek, shiny coats, all proclaim the
fattening qualities of the nutritious forage.

104. The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

What have shady trees, mares in-foal and fattening bul-
locks, to do with hounds and foxes? They are, like the Indian
tradition of the countrj', the essence of the sport; these are
the things, when once you are introduced to them, or come
to understand them, that wed you to country life.

The writer may be pardoned for dwelling over long on
tliis introduction to fox hunting in the valley, and country
life in general. On the other hand, had he failed to notice
this feature, he would have omitted what to some is the most
important part and left hidden the very soul of the game.
Country life, after all, is about the only hfe. It has been sadly
lost sight of in our mad rush for dollars, since the war of
secession.

"Visit the Kennels? Why certainly." Our Master excuses
himself to his other guests and accompanies us on the rounds
of the kennels. He loves a hound and never tires of singing
the praises of the pack or of displaying the superior points in
conformation, colour and markings of each individually.

Passing the pheasantrj^ from which is annuallj' liberated
a goodly number of ]\Iongolian or ring-necked pheasants, we
arrived at the breeding kennels or special lying-in-rooms for
the bitches during the whelping season.

Buttry, the kennel huntsman, joins us here. Buttry has
occupied this position for years, and knows more about hounds,
hound breeding, foxes and pheasants, "than any other man
in America," at least that is what the Hunt club members
claim for him. The kennels have been erected in accordance
with the ideas of the immortal Somer\'ile, who says,

"First let the hennel he the huntsman's care,
Upon some little eminence erect.
And fronting to the ruddy dawn; its court
On either hand wide opening to receive
The su7i's all cheering heams when mild he shines."

MR. HEKREKT WADSWORTH S HOME

FUTLKK HINTEKS AND THEIR DAMS

The Gcncscc Vallcn 105

Before we reach the kennels the hounds have "winded" us
and their music begins. They are standing in twos and threes,
with their noses pressing the cracks in the high board fence
surrounding their court. Those who detect in the air the
approach of strangers, are barking Hke watch-dogs, but the
older hounds who also discover in it the approach of tlie Master,
are baying to it with joyous exclamations in anticipation of
the unkenneling which is sure to follow.

Buttry's voice outside the kennels rises above the hound
clamour within, and the tumult gradually ceases with a few
sharp barks, mutterings and smothered growlings, that can't
sto]) altogether when it once gets started.

The entry room — Buttry's room — contains almost every-
thing from coupling irons to distemper cure, that a hound is
ever likely to require and with closets for everything. We
are helped into a kennel coat, a sort of linen duster that comes
down to our ankles to prevent the hounds — if inclined to be too
demonstrative — from soiling our clothes.

The Master tills his pockets with oatmeal biscuits and leads
the way to the south wing of the kemiels — the bitches'
quarters. They are all outside in the open court. Buttry, who
is inside the kennel, goes to tlie door and holding it ojjen wide
enough for one hound to enter at a time, begins drafting them
in for our inspection. "Blue Bells! Blue Bells!" is the first
to be called, and that beautiful })itch comes crowding her way
through the feathering, jostling pack and trots joyfully up
to the INIaster to seek in his outstretched hand the bit of biscuit
she knows so well is there to reward her. "This is Blue Bells
by Blue Boy, out of Bonnie I.,ass, the best hound I ever saw.
Blue Bells is marked like her grandsire and has the same
fastidious kennel habits as her dam."

Barmaid comes next in order, and is jwking her sensitive

nose into the Master's hand before he is aware of her presence.

"This is a daughter of Bartender," explains our blaster, "a

106 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

very grand hound, you shall see him presently." Then we
have a short history of Barmaid's good qualities and peculiari-
ties. She is a very jealous hound, giving tongue to a line only
as long as she is able to lead the pack. Next the INIaster
asks Buttry to show us the four daughters of Trumpeter.
Quickstep, Frivolous, Prettymaid and Faultless, four magnifi-
cent bitches, answer to their names, and are discussed in turn
and collectively, our ISIaster selecting this one to illustrate his
idea of a perfect shoulder, another for feet and leg, and another
for carriage of head and stern, and so on, until we have in our
mind's eye the blaster's idea of what constitutes a faultless
hound, and the standard he is aiming to produce. Our adjec-
tives are quite exhausted, and we begin to comprehend what
it means to breed foxhounds to colour, size, markings, feet,
legs, shoulders, loins, back, fling, drive, courage, endurance,
carriage, music, nose.

There is no domestic animal where the requirements are
so numerous and the qualifications so exacting, as those striven
for and produced in the modern foxhound : the horse — even the
hunter — not excepted.

On our way to the dog hounds, we pass through the boiler
room where a great cauldron kettle is steaming to a slow fire,
producing the evening feed of oatmeal, which smells good
enough and looks clean enough to set before a king.

"Now, Buttry," says our INIaster, "when you are ready we
will have a look at Bartender," who, hearing liis name spoken
by the INIaster within, lets go his tongue with the eagerness of
the village fire alarm. The deep-mouthed Trumpeter and a
dozen others rush to his side and join the chorus. At the same
time, the bitches from the opposite side of the kennels and
even the invalids in the hospital wards, loose their tongues.

Then, with a flourish of his old hunting crop, and the report
of its loud speaking thong, and a shout from Buttry that rises
above the tumult without and witliin (Buttry perinits no liber-

The Genesee Valley 107

ties -mih the kennel discipline, even if visitors are present)
the tumult ceases.

"Bartender! Bartender!" Bartender hesitates. He knows
full well he began the disturbance, and he is not quite sure if
he is to be called out for reproof or otherwise. Seeing this,
Buttry's voice changes to: "Come on, Bartender, come on,
good dog." Thus reassured, the noble hound who is as cheery
of com|)liment and as injured by a word too much as a woman,
comes joyfully in, waving his stern like a bending reed to a
summer breeze, his nostrils working, his mouth full of laughter,
his eyes all aglow, head erect, and his lips twitching as if about
to speak. He has round cat-like feet, straight legs, and most
muscular thighs; deep chest, depth of shoulder, a loin like a
beam, and a back like a bull. His markings are perfect, body
black, a golden tan about the edges of the back, as if the under
and larger blanket of tan were covered with a silken one of
smaller pattern in black. His head, full of character, is also
black, with eyebrows and muzzle shading tan, ears black, as
su])ple as chamois skin with the touch of silk velvet and also
fringed with tan. And with it all such a grand carriage of
head and stern. He is just as grand and ]K'rfect a hound in
the field as he is on the flags. He was champion hound at
Madison Square, and first prize hound with four of his get,
including Barmaid, Villager, Bonnie Boy and Vaunter. Then
another stud hound and s])ecial favourite is called in with as
many of his get for comparison.

The inspection over, the Master takes us past the hospital,
where several hounds are ailing, some lame from rheumatics,
others wearing bandages — the result of cuts and thorns. How
pleased they are to see their master, as they hobble to meet
his caresses, hear his praise and reassurance that they will soon
be able to join the pack.

There are, in hound breeding, so many different and difficult
problems to confront. There are the quarrelsome, the timid.

108 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

the quick witted and the dull, the careless and the fastidious,
the gluttonous and the dainty, some who require wliipping,
others coaxing, not to mention their misfortunes, sicknesses
and individual care. Then come the more interesting ques-
tions of selection and breeding.

Thus a well bred pack of hounds become to a Master, who,
like Major Wadsworth, breeds for improvement, a most in-
teresting, most fascinating study; the above, however, is but
the beginning.

The nursing of the puppies through the distemper, mange,
etc., hke the mumps, chicken-pox, or measles in children,
brings added cares to the kennel huntsman, and, likewise,
increased affection. Then comes the huntsman's part, their
days at "walk." The puppies must be sent to farmers and
others who will "walk" them for a year. Then comes the more
serious question, the drafting and killing of the imperfect
ones, the flogging and subjection of the new entry to kennel
discipline, their schooling and conditioning for the chase. Thus
it comes about that each and every member of the kennel house-
hold becomes very near, and I may say without offence, very
dear, to the master huntsman, and kennel huntsman as well.

I hope you have enjoyed the visit to the kennels, if so, you
will surely enjoy the run to-day all the better for having done
so.

We have not time to visit the stud and hunt stables, we
must hurry away to the meet, for our hostess there will take
it quite to heart if we are not in time to partake of her hunt
breakfast.

"Will beam with delight
At the (jloriom sight
Of a meet on the velvety lawn."

Poems in Pink.

IX

A DAY WITH THE GENESEE VALLEY HOUNDS

the meet at belwood — the hunt breakfast — the co^'ert
— se\t:n gullies — avho-avhoop.

WHAT a joyous happy crowd, to be sure! All our
friends are there, dressed in their smartest "hunting
togs." The men are telling the ladies that they are look-
ing "too excruciatingly stunning for anytliing," while Miss
Daisy from Batavia, is answering ]Mr. Arthur's chaffing by
holding her fingers in her ears, because his new waistcoat is of
such a loud pattern. So the chaffing and small talk and apolo-
gies and regrets for omissions and commissions go gaily on
about the heavily laden board, everyone helping him or herself,
or perhaps a neighbour. Our host, meanwhile, is shaking
hands with his friends and their guests, while his visiting friends
are assisting in the entertainment or are canvassing the lawn
and drives that are filling with pedestrians and wagons, that
none may go away unbidden to the feast of good tilings that
has been provided within.

"Here come the hounds," says someone on the porch, who
is on the lookout for them, and bedlam is let loose. Four
women meet in a bunch all talking at once, such a babble!
One more taste, a hasty last swallow, eating and talking, and
rushing here and there for hats and gloves, and hunting crops;

110 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

napkins are stuffed into handkerchief pockets to be discovered
at the first check, ten niiles away.

"Here they come! Here they come!" as the hounds, headed
by the first whipper-in, followed by the huntsman with the
pack at his horse's heels, come swinging up the winding drive-
way directly in front of the house, the Master bowing right
and left to the general handclapping and wa\ang of napkins
from every available window, balcony, doorway, and porch of
the spacious villa.

It lacks but five minutes of the hour (eleven) when hounds
will move on to draw the first covert. We therefore hurry out
to join the crowd, who have already formed an admiring circle
about the huntsman and hounds. The twelve and one half
couple of very carefully selected hounds, are quite unconscious
of the shower of compliments they are receiving and the click-
ing of kodaks going on about them.

"Toot, toot!" says the huntsman's horn, as a signal to
mount; only two minutes more and we are off. Now all is
confusion worse confounded. Good-byes are hurriedly spoken,
there is an exchange of sweet-sounding salutations between
some of the ladies that make the men pucker their lips, but to
no purpose. A "where-is-my-horse or where-am-I-at" expres-
sion is on everyone's face, and the whole assembly is a kaleido-
scope. You see it all and you observe notliing. The village
clock no sooner strikes eleven than "Toot, toot, toot!" says the
horn, "crack, crack," says the thong of the whipper-in with an
added correction to a new entry hound that is heading for the
kitchen where the cook and household servants are looking on
from behind the screen. Twenty-five hounds and seventy-five
riders going forth to capture and bring to justice one JNIr.
Reynard, an outlaw, that the untimely death of JNIrs. Farmer's
goslings may be avenged. What a grand lot of horses ! What
a beautiful, what a thrilling sight! Conveyances of all descrip-
tions, from a four-in-hand to a rickety hotel omnibus ; from a

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A MEET ON THE LAWN

MAJOR WADSWORTH'S HOME

A Day Willi the Genesee Valley Iluiinds 111

sjiidcr phaeton to a breaking cart. Truant lads were there,
driving a village delivery wagon. Boys and girls who "did
not hear the bell ring," together with farm hands who had
hitched their plough horses to the fence, were hurrying away
to the crown of an adjacent hill, all speeding on as if by some
sweet frenzy seized and with the hope of viewing the chase
away.

"Hark! On the drag I hear their doleful notes."

Arri\ing at the Fitzlmgh Wood, hounds are thrown off witli
a cheer. The first whipper-in has stationed himself where
best to view Reynard away. The second whipper-in has gone
in with the Master and hounds. ^Vhat prettier sight can any
one see on a fine autumn day, than a hard-working pack of
hounds, each in great eagerness to be the first to proclaim the
find? How they fling and drive, testing each clmiip of grass
for a particle of the evasive effluvia that Reynard maj- have
left in passing.

Bartender is now seen madly feathering in the midst of a
tliicket, his "hackles" are on end as if about to speak. Seeing
this, the ^Master, who as usual is hunting his own hounds, cries
out. "Speak to it, Bartender, speak to it, good dog." Ring-
wood and Rallywood, hearing Bartender thus cheered on, rush
to his side, for not only do the hounds know their own names
but the name of the other hounds as well. ^Vgain the Master
encourages Bartender to speak to it, but the grand old hound
who cannot be made to tell a lie only mutters a wliimi^er and
passes on.

So we all move slowly along. The delicate aroma of the
autumn wood, the falling leaves, the crackling t^\-igs under
our horses' feet, all add inmiensely to the delights of the hour.

Tlie Fitzhugh covert having proved blank, we next try
the wood farther south. What a delightful ride from wood to
wood across the beautiful pasture fields, studded with great
spreading shade trees, tluit make it more a park than a pasture!

112 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

These rides from covert to covert put every one on the best of
terms with himself, excepting perhaps, an element who are
out for racing each other, and who have no taste for hunting
except the mad galloping part. But to those who are out to
hunt, it is one of the most enjoyable features of the game.
Horses and hounds are fresh. Anticipation and eagerness are
plainly stamped on the faces of all.

It begins to look as if the second covert was also a blank,
when suddenly the musical wliimpers of Barmaid, then Vil-
lager, bring shouts of rejoicing from the riders all over the
wood and before the echoes have ceased in the treetops, the deep
mouthed Sampson has thrown his tongue. "Hark to Sampson!
Hark to Sampson!" but every hound in the pack is already
rushing to join him or to reach a spot just ahead of him, to
confirm the good news. On they go, "Ding-dong," go their
tongues, as one after another they feel the line until their joy-
ful- notes swell to one grand chorus that fills the great wood
to overflowing.

Tally-Oh! Tally-Oh! Gone away, Tally-Ho-gon-a-way.

Now then, friend, we are off. Cram down your hat, take
your mount well in hand and ride to the limit of his pace, or
you may never see the stern of a hound again for the day.

Isn't it glorious? The first burst of speed, when you are
feeling very fit, and your horse is feeling just a little above
himself?

"Where now are all your sorroxcs, disappointments, wrongs?
All! All! are gone and in the rushing wind.
Left far behind"

"Listen!" asks a rider of his neighbour, "do you still hear the
hounds? No?" Then they have run out of hearing or have come
to a check. We hope it is the latter and so it turns out. But
what a gallop, twenty minutes on the grass! There is not a
horse or rider whose greed for pace is still unsatisfied.

yt Da// Wt^h Ihc Genesee Valley Ilouiuh 113

Four miles Iroin llic liiul and hounds are really at fault.
Their own cast being- incfi'cctual, the jSIaster moves them care-
fuUj' forward in a circular swing, and on arriving well back
of where their music ceased, sure enough, Reynard had played
his first trumj) card. He had stopped suddenly on the line he
was pursuing, jumped wide to the right or left, and was prob-
ably running back on a parallel line to the way he came. The
hounds were running at such a great speed, they overshot the
line, as the artful Reynartl knew they would do. It is an
old and favourite trick, but thanks to our INIaster's woodcraft,
the run is by no means over. In casting Avell back, the hounds
hit off the line, and once more the "heaveidy music" fills all the
valley and echoes from hill to hill. By this time it is common
gossip among the crows and blue jays for miles about that a
cliicken-thief fox is again on foot wth the white, black and tan
chorus hard after. What a race! That five foot stake and
rider fence stopped half of the field, sent some to the grass,
until a heavy weight lumbering hunter smashes the three top
rails and lets the field get through. What a jolly party joins
in the chase as we enter the field, fifty racing bullocks and half
as many brood mares and their foals join in the gallop!

What a sight! Even the heavy milch cows and the plod-
ding old farm mares forgetful of their infirmities, have joined
the glad throng that goes galloping on with,

"Three cheers for the science, three cheers for the chase.
The hounds that ne'er falter nor tire.
Three cheers for tlie cattle that join in the race,
The old mare and her foal filled with fire."

Once more a check, now then, Mr. Reynard, what is your
plot to fool the hounds this time? It is plain enough. As we
come into an open field he has run amongst a flock of sheep,
knowing full well his own scent Avill be lost by their stain.
Wliich way now? The answer is ]Aiuu. Towards yonder bill.

114 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

the dreaded "Seven Gullies." Our IMaster sees another flock of
sheep all looking in one direction, he hears the jay birds jaw-
ing like fish -ttives in the wood bej^ond. The crows also are
collecting there like turkey buzzards to help "do" the outlaw
of the wood. Seven Gulhes is Reynard's point. Now friend,
harden your heart and ride to save your horse, for a trial of
strength and endurance beyond estimate lies before you.

What's to be done ? The signs of a travelling fox on yonder
hill make it certain that we are in for it up to our eyes. Between
riders and their game lies the Caneseraga river, a most difficult
Avater to cross. It is three to four rods wide, runs silent and
deep between precipitous banks of alluvial deposit. No shal-
lows nor bridge for a mile or more either way. Now, lads, you
may come along, for away sails the INIaster, lifting the hounds
smartly on along the dreaded Caneseraga. Sure enough the
leading hound along the river bank is madly feathering. "Ding-
dong," goes her tongue, every hound turns to her cry, as they
race away along the bank. Then halting suddenly they make
their own cast back and one, two, three at a time, throw them-
selves headlong down the bank and ai'e swimming for the
opposite shore. It is good ten feet from the turf to the Avater,
but there is no time to question where or how. Down goes one
rider, another follows hard after. Other places are found in
the yielding bank and in less than five minutes the creek had
troubled waters and the riders troubled hearts, for the tallest
horses could just wade across and keep their heads above water.
A plucky farmer's son riding a roan pony, that goes completely
under water as he enters the stream, is now swimming for it.
Our boots are filling with water in spite of our best eff'ort to
hold them above it. But cheer up, the worst is yet to come.
Although the opposite bank is not so steep, the miry condition
of the soil makes it almost impossible for horses to take their
riders out, but their blood is up and away go the horses and
riders, dripping like sheep at a river washing. It is plain to

A Day With the Genesee Valley Hounds 115

see that Reynard's point is the dreaded "Seven Gullies." Only
the best eonditioned horses and riders go on with the game.

^Ve raee away up the crest of the hill and by the time we
reach there, "There's many a bellows to mend." What an
awful hole this first gully is! Dismount and scramble down
the best you can, for the sides are as steep as a mansard roof.
Well done, but what a dark damp dismal place it is in the
bottom! However, there is nothing to do for it, but to harden
your heart and follow your leader as best you can, hanging
on to your horse's tail to help you up. Thanks to the stout
heart of your mount and your own stock of grit and courage,
you at last arrive at the top on the opposite side. This ravine
has broken the heart of more than one resolute rider and sent
him and his good mount home with more than enough.

Just as we expected, now we are out of this gully we are at
the brink of another gully still more difficult to climb. There
is nothing to do for it but go on with the game until the
Master says, "Well, gentlemen, what say you alii Have you
had enough?" The few who are left say to a man, "It's
enough," but just then the hounds who have been out of hear-
ing in some one of the seven gullies are heard returning.
"Wait a moment," cries the ISIaster, "hounds are running and
are, I think, coming this way." All thoughts of home are
banished. Once more our barometer goes up from zero
with such a rush as to threaten going through the top of the
glass.

A warning hand from the ]Master bids everyone to keep
perfectly still. Here come the hounds at full cry, while less
than ten rods ahead of them comes the artful dodger, who runs
nearly onto the riders before he discovers his error. To turn
back against the pack is death, the next best thing for him to
do is to take to the o])en fields to the east and this he does,
cheered on by all the riders who race after him with a view of
driving him out of the gullies. On come the hounds, who rush

116 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

to the "Talh'^ ho gone aAvay," with renewed energy out into the
open field. They are soon running their fox from scent to
view. "Hi! Hi! Hi!" shout the riders, as they race aAvay to the
top of their horses' speed. "Hi! Hi! Hi!" One field more!
Whatever is left of fox, hounds, horses and riders is now being
put to the test, Reynard's brush is not three rods from the
leading hound. "Hi! Hi! Hi!" cheer on the riders, who are
but a field behind the hounds. Reynard's point is evidently an
open earth which he knows about in the edge of the wood
he has nearly reached. Go on, good hounds, go on, good horses,
but no, it is not to be. In a hollow ahead of the hounds and
just out of view, Reynard plays the winning card and is well
back on the way to the Seven Gullies, which has saved the
brush of hundreds of liis tribe and family, and will probably
save his own for years to come. Nevertheless, as Williams
says,

"Long may he live to repeat the good story
He told us to-day in this wonderful run.
We'll drink to his honour and sing to his glory
With all the good fellows who shared in the fun."

It was a hard day, but it was worth it and more. Horses
and hounds and riders were done to a turn, still there is enough
left in them to jog, jog, jog, trot, trot, trot, the long ride
home, where at last they arrive tired, dirty, hungry and
happy, to the hearty dinners that await their coming. For the
riders, at least, there are also good friends, dear friends, and
possibly sweet friends to welcome them and to encourage them
in living the run over again, while the fences grow higher, the
ditches wider, the creeks become rivers and the gullies canyons.

To Dr. Fred Capon, Toronto, Ontario.

For all-round Sportsmen Canada wins,
Thcj/'re the best set of fellows that live,
Hunting, shooting, yachting and all
With a handy foot for a skate or a ball,
And a xvelcome as free as a sieve.

X

HUNTING IN CANADA

PLENTY OF SPORT — OUR NETGHBOURS — A CANADIAN SPORTSMAN
— YACHTING — THE TORONTO HUNT CLUB— WOMEN RIDERS
— A sportsman's PARADISE.

TF you are of a sporting turn of mind, you will find more
-^ boating, yachting, shooting, fishing or hunting, to the
square inch in Canada than anywhere in the western hemi-
sphere.

In the first place, the English and the Scotch blood that
runs in the veins of our Canadian cousins has suffered little
or none by being transplanted to a new soil. School and col-
lege sports are played there, more as they are in England;
i. e., for the fun of it. Lacrosse, the national game, baseball,
cricket, canoeing, rage not as fads but as an effervescing
expression of sport for sport's sake. They must play. Noth-
ing can stop them.

Yachting commences with the going out of the ice in the
spring and stops at the beginning of winter, a httle before
ice boating begins.

118 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

From the good old English game of bowling on the green
to the grand old Scotch game of curling on the ice, the elderly
men have as little break in their accustomed sports as do their
sons and daughters.

Hockey on the grass keeps the young men in fettle for
hockey on the ice and vice versa. Skating, tobogganing, snow
shoeing and ice carnivals make the winter more active than
the summer, and fill out the year with a round of arduous
sports that appeals to all.

The writer speaks of the Canadian sportsmen from a very
intimate acquaintance. He has repeatedly met them in inter-
national yacht races, a place to try men's souls. For if any-
thing will hunt out unsportsmanlike qualities in a man, you
can depend upon it an international j'acht race will do the
work to perfection.

You may put him, as the writer has, to an even severer
test; viz., take him for a comjianion on a week's hunting trip
where you must carry your own kit, and pitch your camp
when night overtakes you under a tent or a lean-to of poles
and balsam boughs, and unless your experience differs mate-
rially from the writer's, you will find him, whatever his faults,
a true sportsman, always doing his share, a gentleman and a
friend to the end.

America, to her lasting reproach, has seldom played fair
with Canada. As a nation we have chased after the trade
and traffic of islands washed by the most distant seas and
have slapped in the face our next door neighbour, the best
customer we have in the world. We have practised the Golden
Rule with Cuba and the Philippines, wliile we have never loved
our neighbour as ourselves.

Instead of cultivating Canada, we have invariably driven
her to buy abroad, what she would naturally have bought
nearer home. Americans, as a rule, have never appreciated
Canada nor the Canadian people, simply because we do not

DR. K. J. CAI

THE MONTREAL KENNELS

Hunting in Canada 119

know them and will not take the trouble to make their
acquaintance. Nevertheless, every American who does
know the Canadians at all well, will agree with the writer in
saying that as a nation, the Canadian ])eople have no superior.
The time will come and is coming fast when Americans will
wake up to the fact that they are living beside a nation and a
competitor of no second-rate importance. I would like my
readers to have a glimpse of a Canadian sportsman as he is
at home.

As a fair example, let me introduce 3'ou to my friend,
formerly Vice-Commodore of the Royal Canadian Yacht
Club of Toronto. Here he comes now on the way to his yacht
the Fou Fou.

A misguided youth at the club the night before made the re-
mark that the Fou Fou was a racing machine and could not be
beaten, when the Commodore turned on him with some warmth
saying, "I will sail your boat and you can sail the Fou Fou,
and I'll beat you or lose ten dollars." That's the Commodore.
The Fou Fou is of the skimming dish order, twenty-five
feet over all and sixteen feet water line, that had, with the
Commodore at the helm, been wanning hands down. This ac-
counts for his errand to the bay so early in the day.

"I'm a truant from business this morning. Come along,"
he cries, "you are just in time. I have been trying to pick up
a crew all the way down."

It was a race from start to finish and the Fou Fou was
beaten by the length of her stumpy bowsprit.

The race over, we slipped into our riding breeches for a
ride to the Toronto Hunt Club and to visit the kennels. We
took an indirect route for the Hunt Club to give our horses a
chance "to show their irons" in clearing a few fences and
ditches on the way, also for the purpose of crossing a wide,
open field where they could lay themselves out in a racing
gallop on the beautiful turf.

120 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

"It takes the kinks out of their legs," explains the Commo-
dore, "and gives them a relish for a good feed of oats at the
club, wliile we are 'worrying' a beefsteak for ourselves."

Thus we arrive at the Hunt Club stables, horses and riders
feeling what a privilege it is to live in a land where a cross
country gallop is indulged in, to the enjoyment of man and
beast.

The writer has certainly had his share and perhaps more
of the joys of hving, but there is no one spot on all the
earth he has ever visited that fits him all round, that touches
him on every side, like Toronto. To sail a smart yacht, to
ride a good horse, to visit one of the best packs of hounds and
most orderly kennels, at a most homelike Hunt Club situated
on a bluff overlooking Lake Ontario; and then spend an
evening by a hickory fire, talking yacht and hound, horse and
sails and bits and anchors with the best fellows alive, until the
servants had retired and the fire burnt to coals and the coals
to ashes — well, that's Toronto.

There is also a Hunt Club at Hamilton, another at Guelph,
Woodstock and London. No better cross country horses
come to the States than those wliich are found in this part of
Canada. It is owing to the universal use of thoroughbreds
that Canada has been able to send to the States hundreds of
horses annually, for saddle and hunting purposes.

The oldest organised "Hunt Club" in Canada, which
I believe is also the oldest in America, is at Montreal, where
they hunt the wild red fox over a rough broken country. They
have a very fine club house at the foot of JNIount Royal, wliich
overlooks a most beautiful vale and farming land, suggest-
ing a landscape not unlike good old England. The club
possesses a fine pack of hounds and the best appointed ken-
nels the writer knows of in America, the IVIiddlesex alone
excepted.

The few days' cub hunting which the writer enjoyed with

Hunting in Canada 121

this ])ack, was enough to show him that the whole turnout
was as ably coiulucted as most of the up-to-date English
packs.

If a hunt breakfast at the meet and a dinner at the club
after a day's hunting, to talk it all over, is not enough to con-
vert you, or if a few hunting songs, a Highland jig, or a sword
dance (by the popular ^I. F. H.) is not enough to put you
"en rapport" with fox hunting for the rest of your days, your
case is hopeless. At any rate, that is the waj* they round out
a good hunting day "in due and ancient form," even as their
daddies have done in merry England and bonny Scotland,
since the bcgiiuiing. That's Montreal.

But we did not finish with Toronto. You must stay for a
few days' hunting, if only to please the Commodore and see a
lot of good gentlemen, and the very best lot of women riders
the writer has ever met with in a single day's run to hounds.
These Toronto ladies are not only the most accomplished
riders, but they are the pride and glory of the Toronto Hunt,

"You must stay over," says my friend, "I want you to see
our ladies riding to hoimds. It will strain your heart even
if it is past breaking just to see them, and break your neck
perhajjs trjnng to keep ])ace with them ; nevertheless, I am sure
you will say, 'it is worth it.' The same afternoon they will
sail you a race and the same evening," continues he, "you will
find them the best partners for a dance you ever had on your
arm."

We stayed not once, but many times, and although some
years have gone by since then, the mere mention of Canada
brings a vision of racing yachts, racing hounds, racing riding
habits that would not and could not be overtaken, to say nothing
of the charming partners that nearly danced us to a standstill,
all of which has left in the writer's mind a hunger and thirst for
more Toronto, more Canada. Nor have we said all. It is
here we stock our kits for an annual shooting tri]) to lower

122 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Canada and sail away with dogs and guns down the St.
Lawrence and its rapids, to join our guides in the forest of
Nova Scotia or New Brunswick; but all that is in pickle for
some future time, when the pencil is sharp and the season is
ripe.

May the yachts of Toronto Bay never grow less in number;
may hound's music never cease at the Toronto kennels; may
the daughters of the hunt ever remain the pride and dehght
of their fathers, their brothers, their lovers and their friends,
and may they leave to the generation to come, daughters and
sons of their own to perpetuate true sport to the end of time.

Long live Toronto, a sportsman's paradise! Long live
Canada, the cradle of sportsmen good and true!

PART II
HUNTING IN EUROPE

To Sir Gilbert Greenall, Bart.

M. F. H. Belvoir Hunt,

England.

"There's honesty rvriUen in characters clear
And bravery stands by her side.
You feel when you- look on his manly career.
That these are the men that make England so dear.
The men that fill England with pride."

Poems in Pink.

XI
HUNTING IN ENGLAND

PACKS OF HOUNDS — HUNTING CENTRES — COST — GRASS COUN-
TRIES— RACING PACKS — FOXES — WHERE TO GO — NATIONAL
CH.VRACTERISTICS.

THERE are in the United Kingdom (England, Scotland
and Ireland) something like four hundred and fifty
organised Hunt Clubs that follow the chase on certain days of
the week from the first of October to the first of April or JNIay.
This is to say nothing of numerous trencher-fed packs and
small garrison hunts to be met with in many parts of Great
Britain. Bailey's Hunt Directory gives the number of packs of
foxhounds with regular fixtures in England as one hundred
and sixty-five, Ireland twenty-four, Scotland eleven; total, two
hundred. H. A. Brayden in his interesting book "Hare Hunt-
ing and Harriers," says, "There are but two less than two
hundred packs of Harriers." There are also sixteen packs of
staghounds in England alone. It is safe to say there are forty
or fifty packs of otterhounds, and foot beagles, to say notliing
of draghounds, which number only nine for the United King-
dom. It is also safe to say that of the one hundred and sixty-five
packs of foxhounds in England, over one hundred are within a
radius of fifty miles of Leamington, which may be considered
the hunting centre of England. This is spoken of as "The
Midlands," "The Cream of the Shires," "Grass Countries,'"'
etc.

If we take for instance, I^tica, N. Y., for a centre and from
it draw a circle of the same radius, the outer edges of the circle
would include Watertown on the north, Albany on the east,
Binghamton on the south. Auburn on the west. Think of
ha\'ing over one hundred organised packs of foxhounds within

126 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

tliis territory, to say nothing of harriers, otterhounds, beagle
and staghounds. Tliis will probably give the reader a very
correct idea of the popularity of hunting in England. It is
the national pastime for men after they leave school and col-
lege. It would be mere guesswork to estimate the millions
of dollars exjjended yearly in England alone, for the indul-
gence of this noble and manly sport.*

Fox hunting in England is a veiy expensive luxury, but
there are so many subscribers that the expense to an individual
member is not very great after all. It costs some of the grass
country packs £10,000 to £12,000, ($50,000 to $60,000) a
year. For instance, the Master of the Grafton receives a sub-
scription of £8,000 per year, and adds £.3,000 per annum out
of his own pocket. This sum goes first for the maintenance of
the hunt, the mounting of the huntsman and the wliippers-in,
the poultry fund — the hunt jjajang liberally all claims made for
poultry or lambs said to be destroyed by foxes. The hunt
also pays for the maintenance of certain coverts, the laying
down of others and the removal of wire fencing.

As to the individual cost of hunting, it ranges from a free
ride for the farmer element of the hunt to as much as a swagger
chappie cares to spend. Tliis applies to America as well as
England.

A $125 hunter carries one man better than a $2,500
hunter carries another. For the man who has enough but
wishes to economise, a $500 hunter boarded at $20 per month
during the hunting season, pastured during the summer
and made to rough it during the winter — out of the hunting
season — may hunt once a week and enjoy more sport than the

*In an article on "England and the English" in Scribner's Magazine
for March, 1909, tlie writer says: "An accepted authority upon all
matters of sport in England has compiled some figures as to the invest-
ment and expenditures upon sport. . . . Invested in fox hunting, $78,-
035,000: spent annually for the same, $43,190,000.

Hunting in England 127

other man with a big strino" of thousand doUar hunters with
grooms and stable boys — "Heating their 'eads off."

Once a week is about hunting enough for a single horse,
that is, with most riders, but some men can ride to hounds
twee and even three days a week with only one horse, but that
one of course, must be a thoroughly seasoned, quahfied hunter
that knows the game and is ridden by a man who knows how
to ride to save his horse.

The writer knows several men in England Avho ride to
hounds five days a week with only two hunters and a hack to
ride or drive to the "meets." They rarely, if ever, miss a day,
rain or shine, and this, often, on horses that are little above
screws. Again their neighl)our with a stable of ten or twelve
hunters that cost from one thousand to two thousand dollars
each, may not have a horse in the string fit to ride after the
first month. It is sim])ly impossible, therefore, to give an esti-
mate of the cost of hunting. The only way to find out is to
cut and try. In yachting one man will get more sport and
pleasure out of a twenty foot yacht costing $250 than
the next man does from a $250,000 investment. It is not so
much a question of cost as inclination. Hunting is more a
question of the size of a man's heart for the love of the game,
than the sizx' of his pocketbook. When there is a rdll, the way
is seldom hard to find.

It is a fact within the observation of all that, as a rule, the
men who indulge in outdoor sports and enjoy life as they live
it are seldom found among those who can have what they want,
but rather amongst those who adapt themselves to what they
can have. If they cannot att'ord a 40 foot yacht, they own or
hire a 20 footer. If they cannot buy a qualified hunter, they
can at least see the fun from the back of a colt that is growing
into a hunter. It might be too much to say that poverty is a
passport to becoming a sportsman, but it is by no means such
a drawback as some sui)pose. There are thousands of men

128 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

in England who "never had money enough," as thej' say in
jNIichigan, "to wad a gun," but who are never without a hunter
to ride, a yacht to sail, and a gun for big game or small.

Owing to the decline in agriculture in England, there is
comparativelj^ little land under the plough. Hay and grazing
are the chief source of agricultural revenue. Especially is this
the case in the principal hunting centres already referred to
as the "Grass Countries." There one may gallop from morn-
ing until night over fields that have been in turf for 100
to 200 years, possibly more, and seldom meet with a bit of
plough land outside of a garden patch. The Midlands are
therefore very attractive to the hard riding and racing men
who congregate there by the thousands, many of them to hunt
five or even six days during the week.

In the first place, the damp moist climate is just suited to
the laying of scent and the great grass fields afford the best
possible conditions for holding the same. This makes it possible
for hounds to race away to the line with heads up and at a
rate that only the very highest class horses can follow.

As above intimated, the "JNIidlands" attract largely the men
Avho hunt to ride, and for that same reason are quite as repelling
to many men who ride to hunt. It is unnecessary to say the
writer has a most decided preference for the latter school; he
holds that hunting the fox is one tiling, racing him to death
quite another. If, for instance, these racing packs of hounds
are hard pressed by a racing crowd of riders, M'hich often num-
ber from one to three hundred, and there is a check, and Rey-
nard has turned back, there is no recovering the line. It is, there-
fore, largely a huntsman's game. Instead of giving the hounds
a chance to hunt their fox, they are generally lifted smartly on
with a gamble on the chance of recovering the line or picking
up another line for another race. Still, every hunting man
who visits England should at least have a fling with a Grass
Country pack ; they do the thing up proper and smart, and on

Hunting in England 129

a good horse they will give him the ride of his life. He will
find at the prineipal hunting eentres such as Melton, iSIarket
Harhorough, Ciranthani, Rugby, Leicester, Oakham, etc., that
he is among the best horses, the best riders, the best packs of
hounds to be found in the world. He will find English sports-
men rather shy and hard to get accjuainted with Avithout a letter
of introduction, but when once the icy exterior is broken you
have a man you can hitch to, a friend you can swear by and a
companion you can love. From INIelton you may hunt with the
Quorn, Cottesmore, Belvoir. From IMarket Ilarborough with
the Cottesmore, Pytehley and ]Mr. Fernie's hounds. From
Rugby with the Pytehley, Atherstone, Warwickshire and
North Warwickshire. From Leicester, jMr. Fernie's, Ather-
stone, Quorn. From Oakham, the Belvoir, Quorn, Cottes-
more. All of these ])acks, we believe, hunt five days a
week. By a short train run you may hunt over a still wider
district.

From what has been said it must not be inferred that all
the best packs of England are within this enchanted ground.
So far, mention has been made of but eight different packs;
there must still remain sometlaing over a hundred first class
packs in England alone to select from.

Another charm about hunting in England is the style and
neatness in which it is everywhere conducted.

In the writer's personal experience he may mention the
Holderness near Hull, a racing pack, where mostly clean thor-
oughbreds are ridden. It is quite as fast as the fastest in the
INIidlands. Then comes the Earl of Yarborough's celebrated
pack in Lincolnshire. These hounds have a written pedigree
extending back 125 years and are known to have been in the
family for thirty years prior to that. IMany years ago, when
agriculture was prosperous in England, Lord Yarborough,
who was a very extensive landowner, went so far in encourag-
ing his tenant farmers to hunt, that he presented them all with

130 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

a full hunting suit, pink coat and all. To tliis day most of the
tenant farmers in that portion of the country enjoy the sport.
Some one asked Lord Yarborough how he managed to secure
such a lot of first class tenant farmers. "I don't secure them,"
he replied. "I breed them." This is almost literally true, for
most of the leases have been handed down from father to son
since the beginning.

The writer well recalls a meet of these famous hounds, M.
F. H. the Earl of Yarborough, at the farm of JNIr. Charles
Dudding, a famous sheep breeder. There were over two hun-
dred and fifty riders at this meet and over half were farmers or
farmers' sons. Our host stayed at home to dispense the good
things from his hospitable board, which were partaken of by
Lords and tenant farmers alike.

Then there is the Blankney, near Nottingham, one of the
best all round packs of hounds the writer ever hunted with in
England. The Blankney is the greatest ditch country the
writer ever encountered. The foxes take a lot of hunting and
much killing but there are plenty of them and a blank day is
unknown. One run with this level, hard-working pack, who
hunt down their game in the most workmanlike manner, will
never be forgotten by the writer.

With our old friend Kirkham, whom readers of "Cross
Country with Horse and Hound" may remember, the writer
started out for Bishopsthorpe for a day with the Blankney.
It was a prime hunting morning and our horses were quite
.above themselves. Hounds jumped their fox on the way to
covert and we were well off before we knew what had happened.
The hounds swooped down the incline after him hke a flock of
migrating birds. They ran him so hard that in the last field
they were not a rod from liis brush. Straight for the cottage
rolled the bundle of fur, the hounds gaining, but very slowly.
Through two or three fields hounds pressed their game hard,
so hard in fact, he ran straight for a little thatched cottage.

Ilunthuj ill England 131

The door of the cottage being open, the fox ran into the house
and was pulled down by the hounds under the dining room
table. When the huntsman could get in there the old lady was
standing on top of a small table, her dress pulled tightly about
her ankles, and screaming at the top of her voice. Underneath
and around the dining room table twenty-two couple of hounds
were quarrelling and fighting for possession of their game. As
the huntsman reached the door a table leg gave way and over
went the dishes, dinner and all among the surging, snarling
pack. This pack at that time had hunted ninety-eight days
and had killed one hundred and one foxes.

"The Vale of the White Horse Hunt" is another genuine
hunting institution, and Cirencester, where the hounds are
located, is a convenient centre. Some of the most charming
men in all England train with these hounds. Then there is the
Warwickshire, with which ])ack the writer had a memorable
run in the wake of that most accomplished cross country rider,
the Countess of Warwick. The South Staffordshire Hunt near
Liclifield is the right sort altogether. It was the custom of
these big-hearted Staffordshire farmers to put a good piece of
fresh meat at each fox's earth on Christmas eve, so they might
enjoy like themselves a good Xmas dinner. A fox's mask
and brush })resented to the writer by the master. Sir Charles
Cooper, at the end of a hard day's run, is especially prized.
And last but not least, a day with the North Warwickshire
hounds from Banbury Cross with our esteemed friend and
sportsman, Artist J. Crawford Wood, whose clever hand did
so much to enrich the chapters of "Cross Country with Horse
and Hound," was most enjoyable.

It was from Banbury Cross "upon a cock horse" that many
a hunting man received his first taste of cross countrj', riding
astride his father's stout boot, that always managed to spill him
over the last fence or ditch.

Wherever you may drop down on the sod of ]Merry Eng-

132 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

land you will find yourself in reach of a pack of hounds and
wherever that is you will find also, fiirst class accommodations
for man and beast, and someone not too far away of whom you
may hire a mount.

Of all the delightful places to put up, a village inn in a
favourite hunting district fills the bill. The larger hotels are as
a rule dreary, lonesome, forbidding affairs.

At all the leading hunt centres there are any quantity of
hunting boxes with first class stabhng for rent from £60 to
£600 or more for the season. It is quite the fasliion in Eng-
land to hire such a small country or suburban box with two to
four acres of land and to leave the hunters there all summer
in charge of a groom. Some sell out root and branch and
buy again a few months before the season opens. Others flit
about, hunting from a dozen different centres during the sea-
son, depending on mounts from "Jobmasters." Tliis is as
economical a way as any, and as most Jobmasters will mount
a man, especially a stranger, as well or better than he can
mount himself, it usually gives good satisfaction, especially
to visiting sportsmen.

What astonishes an American most is where all the foxes
come from to supply each club with three to five kills a week.
A blank day is quite unusual anywhere, and a day when there
is a run that the fox fails to be accounted for is also unusual.
Frank Gillard during his 26 years as huntsman to the Belvoir
killed 2709 foxes, an average of over 100 per season, which is
also about the average number of runs between the opening
day about September 15th and the closing day in the latter
part of April. There are many other packs that can show as
good and even better records than the above. Americans who
are mostly accustomed to blank days and runs without a kill
wonder at the great difference in this respect between the two
countries. It is easily accounted for. First, nearly every farm
in Great Britain is a game preserve and most of the larger

Ilunling in England 183

estates have gamekeepers who rear and put out thousands of
pheasants, partridges and grouse. Rabbits and hares are plen-
tiful nearly everywhere. On this account English-bred foxes
have always plenty of food at hand, while in the States a fox
must travel a great distance to obtain a meagre living. English
foxes come uj) in daily sight of gamekeepers and others who are
most careful not to disturb them. American foxes on the con-
trary are as wild as possible. They are hardened to travel
and have found in their wide going about every available
spot of safety. On these accounts they are rarely run into and
never will be until we have earth stoppers to locate them and
plenty of rabbits and other game for them to eat.

The writer has often been asked where to go to see the most
interesting sport in following the chase. From liis limited
knowledge he would suggest the following:

Reach England by August 1st. Have a day at least with
the Essex otterhounds, headquarters at Chelmsford. Then
locate at the Peacock Inn, Belvoir near Grantham, for a visit
to the famous castle and kennels and a week's cub hunting with
the finest pack and the best new entrj^ hounds in the world.
Then go to Minehead, Somerset, for the opening meet of the
Devon and Somerset staghounds, about August 1.3th. There
will be seen four or five hundred riders and about as many
pedestrians at the meet, which is always at Cloutsham. The
mount must be engaged sometime ahead. Then on the way
back to London have a day in the Quantock Hills from Taun-
ton, hunting the wild red deer. By this time the fox hunting
season is open. Then fly away to the opening meet of the
Quorn, which is always at Kirby Gate. Opening meets as a
rule are, on account of the crowd, to be avoided, but any hunt-
ing man \-isiting England should not fall to see the show.
After a week with the Quorn, settle down at Melton Mowbray
or Oakham or Leicester, and have a day with the Pytchley,
Atherstone and Cottesmore. Then try a week wth Lord

134 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hoiind

Rothschild's staghounds, locating at the Red Lion Hotel,
Leighton Buzzard. Whatever you do, don't miss the Blankney
Hunt and a few days with the Windermere Harriers in the
most beautiful part of beautiful Great Britain, with head-
quarters at Ambleside, Lake Windermere, or better still, the
Ferry Hotel across the lake from Bowness.

Then if you would hke a good jolly drag hunt, go out with
the students of Oxford University. It is the real thing and the
best drag hunting, to the writer's notion, in England; besides
Oxford is the finest to^vn in all England, in which to spend
a few weeks. If you can sprint a little, a day with one of
the three college foot beagles will quite complete the role. This
should give you the best in variety that England has to offer
and that is the best in the world. If by this time, you are not
in love with rural England and Enghsh methods of field
sports, the Avriter will be greatly disappointed, for in spite of
its "beastly" weather (it has no climate) , it is the ideal country
of all the world for a man who loves outdoor sports and rural
hfe.

One mistake that most Americans make in visiting England
is in rushing from Liverpool to London visiting a few cathedral
towns and deceiving themselves with the idea that they have
done England.

A few letters of introduction will put you right, but with-
out them your progress will be slow and your welcome very
incomplete. Englislimen are very shy of strangers, especially
foreigners, until they know from someone who or what you
are. As a rule, it is not a question of wealth. If you are a bit
of a sportsman, you are welcome even if you are poor. If you
can shoot or sing, drive or play, ride or write, whatever your
accomplisluiients, you are welcome. The question of how much
you are worth financially is not the first and last question
to be determined. There is less snobbishness among the long
pedigreed nobility of England than is often found among

Iluuthuj in England 135

wealthy Americans, who don't know the pedigree of their
near ancestors.

"A fine old English Gentleman I see,
A friend, a companion, to cheer,
A sportsman he is from his head to his heels,
The best breeds of cattle are found in his fields.
He is honest and true, never fear."

"Wondrous Belvoir, to thy Spacious Vale,
Sweet Castle and thy farthest prospects hail.
Where Margumum, seat of heroes old.
Once stood."

Peck (A. D. 1727)

"Far shall his pack he famed, far sought his breed."

Somervile.

XII

A DAY WITH THE BELVOIR FOXHOUNDS

THE PEACOCK INN — BELVOIR CASTLE — BELVOIR KENNELS

NOTED HUNTSMEN — PERFECTION IN HOUND BREEDING —
BEN CAPELL.

TT would certainly be an omission to serve stuffed goose
-*- without the stuffing. It would be equally as great an omis-
sion to attempt to describe fox hunting in England without
putting in a day with the Belvoir.

The present Master — Sir Gilbert Greenall, Bart. — is to be
congratulated for his adherence to the time honoured customs
and hunting traditions of the chase, especially in a country
where the temptation to lower hunting to something resem-
bling a cross between steeplechasing and flat racing is the
rule. It must not be inferred from this that the Belvoir is
a "slow country," for it is not, but there seems to be more of
the hunting spirit in it than in some so-called swagger packs
that hunt the grass countries. However, "Everyone to his
liking."

It would be a great pleasure for the writer to take his

A Day With the Bclvoir Foxhounds 137

readers to the hunting field where the INIaster has a kindly wel-
come for all, and where liis clever huntsman, Ben Capell, is a
star performer, among the best of his craft in handling the
j)ack, and an artist in outwitting his game.

Nevertheless good and perfect as is the management and
appointment of the Belvoir Hunt in the field, its crowning
glory is at the kennels. As tliis most celebrated ])ack of hounds
has for many years enjoyed the distinction of being the "pre-
mier pack of Great Britain," the writer has decided to devote
this chapter to "A Day with the Hounds at Belvoir Kennels,"
ratlier than in the field.

Whosoever has followed the writer's chapter on hound
breeding, rearing and management in "Cross Country with
Horse and Hounds," as well as his remarks on the subject in
previous chapters of this book, will readily understand the
value he places on hound breeding as it is generally conducted
in England, and pardon him, it is hoped, if in this chapter
he repeats some of the thoughts expressed in his previous work.

To anyone at all interested in hound breeding, a visit to
the Belvoir Kennels is most enjoyable. The annual Peter-
boro' Hound Show is something beautiful to see, and no hunt-
ing man visiting England, in the month of July, should fail to
attend it. But interesting as the Peterboro' show is, a day
at Belvoir and a chat with the cheery huntsman is the best
show of all. If you go once, you will surely wish to go again,
at least the writer found his seventh annual pilgrimage to Bel-
voir more interesting than ever before. Possibly he cannot do
better than attempt to take his readers there in the usual course.
From London we will ticket to Grantham. "A feed" at the
"Angel," and a drive to Belvoir Castle, where we put u]) at
the "Peacock," a wayside inn under the shadow of Belvoir
Castle. Belvoir Castle is one of the most beautiful, as well as
one of the best preserved castles of feudal times now standing
in Enffland. Our stout hostess of the Peacock, with a coun-

138 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

tenance as shiny as good soap and water can make it, and as
ruddy as good blood can colour it, takes us in hand like the
mother she is to all her guests. We drop into the place that
seems to fit us Mke a pair of old shppers, and are contented
and comfortable from the first.

We then dispatch a note to the kennels to inquire if it will
be convenient for us to visit them on the following afternoon,
the time of day most huntsmen prefer callers.

While lunch is being prepared, we will visit the stable yard
where there is sure to be a couple of hound puppies at walk,
and some hunters in sight — or take a stroll along the liighway
where pheasants and rabbits are always in view.

At lunch our hostess entertains us with information con-
cerning the visit we are to pay to the castle, wliich is open to
visitors from 2 to 4 p. m. This she seasons with a bit of gossij)
concerning the present owner, the 7th Duke of Rutland, and
the other great dukes and duchesses, and lesser members of
this historic family. John Manners, the second son of the first
Earl of Rutland, will be remembered for all time as the hero
of a most romantic love affair with Dorothy Vernon, daughter
of the fierce "King of the Peak." How John Manners lay
for days and nights in the wood about Haddon Hall for a
glimpse of liis sweetheart and how on a dark rainy night,
he rode to the hall and while the dancers footed it merrily in
the "festal light," Dorothy Vernon slipped away from the ball
room, was lifted into the saddle and galloped away through the
forest with her determined lover. How the infuriated father,
with fifty mounted riders, rode madly after in fruitless chase
and how some twelve months afterwards the happy Dorothy
returned to her father with liis grandchild in her arms, obtained
forgiveness and finally became heir to Haddon Hall, wliich to
this day remains in the possession of the present Duke of Rut-
land. Haddon Hall is no longer inliabited, the present Duke
of Rutland residing at Belvoir.

SIR GILBERT GRKENALL M. F

A Day With the lielvoir Foxhounds 139

"Bclvoir! nekfhhour to the shy
That Kith light doth deck its brows —
lielvoir! Art's masterpiece and nature's pride."

Ilarleian Miscellany. (A. D. 17G9)

Belvoir Castle is situated on the top of a hill rising abruptly
out of the great Belvoir \' ale, the hill itself being a prominent
landmark for twenty to thirty miles in every direction. Tlie
castle occupies all the level space on top of the hill, the ground
falling quite precipitately away on all sides. The panoramic
view from the castle is one of the most commanding, and for
rural scenery is one of the most beautiful in England. There
stretches in every direction a great carpet of green, divided by
hedge fences, or rows of stumpy willows that mark the courses
of creeks and brooklets. Everywhere scattered over tliis most
fertile vale are great, spreading forest trees, clumps of planted
game coverts, or "spinnies" of from one to three acres in
extent. The hill on which the castle stands has been left a
natural forest, through which w^inding carriage drives and
vine-covered walks lead to the castle. High as these forest
trees are, the noble castle caps the hill with towering turrets,
parapets, and gables that rise far above them — a magnificent
monument to the powerful family who in the old feudal days
went to battle with their own followers and an armed troop
of cavaliers who dwelt under the same roof.

It is not the purpose of tliis chapter to devote more space
to this most beautiful of all English castles, nor to dwell on the
wonderful paintings, tapestry, relics, and souvenirs of the
noble dukes who have lived there.

"To carry the horn for the Belvoir," says Mr. Cuthbert
Bradley in his charming book, "Hunting Reminiscences of
Frank Gillard." "has always been considered the topmost rung
in the ladder of fame, by all the professional talent." This book

140 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

covers the experience of the clever huntsman and most noted
hound breeder, Frank Gillard, who was huntsman to the Bel-
voir for 26 years prior to the time when the present Duke of
Rutland resigned liis position of ]\Iaster of his own hounds.
This was in 1896, when His Grace had arrived at liis seventy-
fifth year.

"He owed his old age and his stamina sound
To the genuine love for the horse and the hound."

There is an old sajang that "the hours spent in the chase
are not reckoned against us in the numbering of our days."
From the great number of men between sixty and ninety
years old that are still riding to hounds, it would seem that
this saying might more properly be called an axiom. Speaking
of elderly men in the hunting field, Parson Bullin of the Bel-
voir hunted up to liis ninetieth year. He has been known to go
out in the forenoon, return to his parish for a wedding or
funeral, and be out and at it again the same afternoon. The
great Atherton Smith carried the horn to his own pack up to
his eightieth year. About this time he was invited to bring his
hounds into the Quorn country. So great was his popularity
that upwards of two thousand superbly mounted horsemen
were present to meet him and join in the chase.

John Peel, another veteran past master huntsman of
national reputation, carried the horn up to his eightieth year.
A favourite hunting song will keep his memory green to the
end of time.

'D'ye hen John Peel with his coat so grey.
D'ye ken John Peel at the break of day,
D'ye ken John Peel when he's far away.
With his horse and his hounds in the morning?"

THE UUKK OF KUTI.ANI), M. F. H.

A Day With the lidvoir Fowhoutid.s 141

His son, John Peel, Jr., went his ilhistrious sire one better,
for he rode to hounds nearly up to his ninetieth anniversary.

There is scarcely a hunt club in Great Britain that does not
boast of from one to half a dozen or more followers of the chase,
who are past their four score mark. Let us hark back to
the hne.

On his retirement, the Duke of Rutland called a meeting of
sportsmen, tenants, farmers, and patrons of the hunt, and
turned the pack and kennels over to a committee, with the
object of continuing the sport in the vale, forever, as it had
existed since fox hunting began.

The committee selected Sir Gilbert Greenall, Bart., to fill
the position of "JNIaster" and the horn was entrusted to Ben
Capell, who came from the Blanknej', where he had been carry-
ing the horn for ten seasons and who formerly was whipper-in
to Tom Firr, the celelTrated huntsman of the Quorn. Few
huntsmen have ever had a more difficult position to fill. Onlj^
four huntsmen had preceded him during a century; each one
had been a noted huntsman and hound breeder. Gillard, how-
ever, accomplished more than all the others, for during his term
as huntsman he practically carried hound breeding to perfec-
tion. Of course the foundation that made this possible had been
laid over two hundred years before by the tenth Earl of Man-
ners, who afterwards became first Duke of Rutland. "The
pack," says Bradley, "was established in 1086, and formerly
was supposed to be kept to hunt deer." "The foxhound list
and pedigree were first kept," says the same authority, "at the
Kennels in 1750. Nevertheless to Frank Gillard is given the
credit of elevating the pack to the distinction of being "the best
in the world." For Ben Capell to undertake to fill such a posi-
tion was indeed something imusual, for the eyes of the fox
hunting world were upon him, and predictions were every-
where made that there could be but one Frank Gillard. In
spite of all such prophecies, the pack has steadily gone on under

142 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

the present management to even a higher rank than ever. For-
tunate also is the pack for having as the ]\Iaster, Sir Gilbert
Greenall, who takes a practical and personal interest in the
breeding and mating of the hounds and has given as much care
and attention to maintain the high standard of the pack as any
of its former noble Masters. He is also one of the largest
breeders of horses in England and his experience in the stable,
no doubt, has been of great use to liim in the kennels.

Fortunate, indeed, has been tliis family pack to have had
so few huntsmen, and all men who have strictly adhei'ed to a hne
of breeding that has given such satisfactory results. It must
be remembered that at the same time, hundreds of Masters and
huntsmen were proceeding on similar lines or lines of their
own; all in the keenest and most sportsmanlike rivalry to
obtain tliis improvement; all with an ideal foxhound in their
mind's eye, to Avliich standard of excellence they were stri\'ing
to elevate their packs. To "win out" in a contest of this
measure is a distinction that may well be looked uj)on with
pride by any fox hunting man or hound fancier in the world.

Two hundred A^ears is a long time to work and strive and
wait, and still there is room for improvement, for out of over
100 i^uppies sent yearly to "walk" from the Belvoir Kennels,
not more than one in three is found perfect enough to meet
the required standard, as they are judged on the flags. Of tliis
select number, another "draft" is made of hounds that for
some fault or other, or because they do not work in harmony
with the pack, are also weeded out, so that for a year's crop of
puppies fifteen or twenty couple is the most that can possibly
hope to become working members of that honoured band. Still,
indifferent as these drafted hounds may be, they are all be-
spoken for, five or six years in advance.

During the year, the kennels are visited by Masters and
huntsmen from all over Great Britain, who make a yearly
pilgrimage hither to see the new entry come in, discuss hound

H TO GET THROUGH

BKN CAPELL, HUNTSMAN

u:i Daij With the Belvoir Foxhounds 143

breeding with tlie genial huntsman and obtain his advice on
Subjects of general interest.

In spite of the great rivalry that has always existed in
England in hound breeding, it has ever been the sportsman-
like practice of the Dukes of Rutland to permit all other Mas-
ters of hounds to obtain the blood. In so doing, the Belvoir has
refrained from entering in competition at Peterboro', where
as a rule Belvoir blood from other kennels has carried off the
prizes. Few people outside of huntsmen and JNIasters appre-
ciate what it means to breed a perfect foxhound. The require-
ments are so high and so numerous that an attempt to com-
bine them in a single animal is a task so great as to make the
breeding of all other domestic animals mere child's play in
comparison. In "Cross Country with Horse and Hound,"
the writer said in substance: "The English foxhound as he
stands to-day, is the highest example of the art and science of
breeding for improvement of any domestic animal — the horse
not excepted." Tliis is indeed a sweeping statement, and is
doubtless looked upon by some as extravagant. JNIost pure
bred domestic animals are bred with the idea of perfecting
them in one particular, — the horse either for speed or draught,
the cow for milk or beef, the sheep for wool or mutton. So
difficult is it to obtain in these animals perfection in more than
one quality, that breeders have, as a rule, given it up as unsatis-
factory, and confine their energies to the development of a
single characteristic, besides colour markings, etc. that distin-
guish the particular breed.

The English foxhound, as he is bred to-day in England,
must possess in addition to colour and markings that distinguish
the family, more high class qualifications than any other domes-
tic animal. His origin was a cross between the bloodliound and
the greyhound; one of his parents hunted by sight only, the
other by nose; one ran mute, the other gave tongue — the very
swiftest and the very slowest. To harmonise these conflict-

144 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

ing characteristics in a single animal, to modify this, perpetuate
that, to exterminate one tiling and ingraft another, was the
problem. Out of tliis oil and water mixture to produce a per-
fect hound was a task of greater magnitude than has ever been
successfully carried out with any other line of cross breeding.
The persistent, methodical, painstaking English Masters and
their huntsmen have been working at this for over 200 years.
The best results yet to be achieved, as we have already shown,
are found at the Belvoir kennels.

An up-to-date Enghsh foxhound must possess the
following quahfications to be good enough to satisfy the
breeder.

First, as judged on the flags when he arrives at the kennels
from liis "walk," he must not be too tall nor too short. The
standard of Belvoir is 23 inches for dog hounds and 22 for
females. Then comes a long hst of defects in general confor-
mation, as to feet and legs, back and loin, neck and throat.
Passing muster in these, he must prove in the field to be neither
too fast nor too slow; too free of giving tongue, nor too mute;
neither a skirter nor a line hunter. His voice must be neither
too high nor too low, but harmonise with the pack. He must
not tell a lie nor run riot. He must have great stajang quali-
ties, for it has been the custom since the days of the first Duke,
"when the Belvoir goes out for a day's hunting, to keep on
drawing coverts," says Bradley, "until dark, no matter how
far hounds are from the kennels." A hound with a weakness is
sure to be winded out. Therefore the stamina and endurance
of the Belvoir hound are easily accounted for (the Belvoir hunt
five days a week) . He must possess fling and drive in covert.
He must be a hunting dog, relying on his o^vn endeavours to
follow the fine of the hunted fox, as if hunting alone. His
speed must be as great as his endurance. His nose and drive
must be so wefl-balanced that he will race to the line with a good
head, and not tie himself to it with painstaking plodding. If

A Daij With the Belvoir Foxhounds 14.5

he qualifies in all these particulars, then he must satisfy the ken-
nel huntsman as to his character, that is to say, he must be —

Neither quarrelsome nor timid.
Neither slovenlij nor too fastidious,
Neither a glutton nor a poor feeder.
Neither sulk// nor quick-tempered.
Neither too meek nor disobedient.

These are the qualifications of an up-to-date English fox-
hound. Whoever has attempted to breed or school a couple of
bird dogs, even from the same litter, and has succeeded in get-
ting them to work properly together, can imagine what it
means, perhaps, to produce a pack (160 hounds) that are as
like as so many peas in a ])od, and that hunt together, and are
governed as one hound. Such in short is the status of the Bel-
voir hounds.

Good as they are for their own particular neighbourhood
and country, these most perfect hounds could not be recom-
mended for the class of fox hunting they would meet with in
America. In their own country the Belvoir hounds, as a rule,
start, run into and kill a fox for every day's hunting in the
season. The different climatic conditions existing in America,
the difference also in the foxes and coverts, as explained in a
previous chapter, account for their failure in America.

Capell is putting on his kennel coat, for he is impatient to
take us to see this year's entry as well as a few old favourite
dogs of his own breeding, that are doing so much in maintain-
ing and elevating the Belvoir standard.

Belvoir Dexter, now in his tenth season, and therefore bred
by Gillard and entered in his last season, comes crowding his
way through a cluster of his sons and grandsons standing at
the kennel door. Not every good hound has the ability to trans-
mit his good qualities. Tliis is not the case with Belvoir Dex-

146 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hoxind

ter, a great-grandson of Gambler, a celebrated hound, whom
Gillard considered the most perfect hound that he had ever
bred. Dexter's sons are numerous and his daughters are excel-
lent in every way in the field and on the flags.

"Gambler came so near the ideal, in every respect," says
Cuthbert Bradley, "that his skeleton has been set up as a model
of symmetry and proportion, to illustrate a perfect hound."
Besides the painting and drawings of this wonderful hound,
the good he did will keep his memory green for a hundred
years to come. The illustration herewith of Belvoir Dexter is
from a painting by Mr. Cuthbert Bradley, which that artist
did for "Land and Water," by whose kind permission it is here
reproduced.

"Next to an old Greek statue," adds Bradley, quoting
from Canon Kingsley's description of a modern foxhound,
"there are few such combinations of strength as in a fine fox-
hound. Majesty is the only word. It is a joy to see such
perfection ahve."

Let us return to Belvoir Dexter, who has probably pro-
duced more high class sons and daughters and granddaughters
than any hound that ever lived. It has been the policy of the
Belvoir hunt for the last hundred years seldom to go outside
of their own kennels for new blood. Tliis accounts for the
strong family likeness in the Belvoir hounds, and their uni-
formity as to colour and markings. The Belvoir tan is recog-
nised throughout Great Britain, and few kennels are without
it. A perfect system of books, with extended tabulated pedi-
gree of every hound in the pack since 1859, is kept by Mr. W.
Bainbridge, private secretary and agent to Sir Gilbert
Greenall,

The writer does not pretend to be an expert judge of
hounds, or attempt to say where the English breeders are
wrong. His own favourite hound at Belvoir is Vagabond,
1899.

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BELVOIR CASTLE

A Day With the Bclvoir Foxhounds 147

It seems to the writer that there is danger in the present
rage for carrying in-turning toes, short lower joints and heavy
upright legs, too far, both for utility and looks. On the other
liand American hound breeding, as generally carried on in the
States, is so far behind the English standard that it seems
almost hopeless to discuss it. Still there is a leaven working
there that may in time accomplish nmch.

"But Councilman opens. Hark! Councilman, Hark!
And Finder and Fisherman join him. Hark! Hark!
And then with a chorus that brings you delight
Ten couple chime in and put everything right."

Poems in Pink.

XIII

TWO DAYS WITH THE QUORN (FIRST DAY)

THE FAMOUS GRASS COUNTRIES — HUNTING CENTRES — RAILWAY
TRAVEL — THE BAY MARE INN — HIRING A HUNTER — A
BLANK DAY.

T EICESTER is one of the most popular resorts for hunt-
■■-^ ing men in England. Several of the most fashionable
packs of hounds in England are within a radius of fifteen or
twenty miles of Leicester. A sportsman locating there can
easily hunt six days in the week without going a great distance
to the meets. The favourite resorts for gentlemen who come
to Leicester during the hunting season are not the modern
hotels but the old fashioned inns like the "Black Bull," "The
King's Head," "The Bay Mare Inn," etc. These inns have
commodious stables and boxes for hunters and are invariably
managed by the "Missis," whose husband acts as a handy man
about the place.

There is an air of comfort about these well-worn places that
fits one better than the more modern hotels, which are, as we
have already said, usually most formal and uninviting. A day
or a week in one of these old inns is one of the charms of Merry
England.

Tico Dans With I he Qiioni { First Daji) 149

I arrived in Leicester one rainy evening. The old town
looked forlorn enough. 1 said "evening"; it was only about
half-past three, but the street lamps were already lighted.
Everyone looked pinched and cold and cross and out of
sorts, and no wonder. It is bad enough for a sportsman, who
gives liimself up to hunting five or six days a week, to "hang
about" for a day or tw^o, with a string of five to fifteen hunters
kicking their boxes to pieces. But this sort of thing had been
going on during two weeks of frost that had prevented hounds
going out, and to cap tiie climax of the sportsman's misery, a
two days' rain had ke])t the riders and most of the horses in-
doors.

If there is any one thing worse than an English fog, with
the thermometer at about freezing, to unfit a ])erson for becom-
ing an angel, it is to ride a few hours in an English railway car-
riage on a cold, rainy winter's day, such as I experienced get-
ting from London to Leicester on this occasion. The "X-Ray"
has a wonderful ])enetrating ])ower, but the London fog stops
not at bones, it goes straight to the marrow.

The railway carriages are relics of a prehistoric age. They
are sometimes provided with a pan of hot water for a foot
warmer just large enough to accommodate two ordinary sized
pairs of feet. If there is a woman in the compartment, the
hot water pan goes to her, and when she gets her feet on it
and her dress covers her feet, the other nine jiassengers can keep
their feet warm by stamping them, or thinking about a hot
mustard bath.

A railway compartment, which runs crosswise of the car
and has a door in each end. holds ten passengers, five facing
forward and five backward. When seated in the compartment
there is only about a foot to S])are (no pun is intended) between
the knees of the two rows of jjassengers. (A car. or carriage,
has three or four of these compartments.) The train stops
at a station ; a passenger at one end of the compartment mshes

150 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

to get off and the platform happens to be next to the door on
the opposite side of the car. He gets up, collects his numerous
bundles and grips (most traveUing in England is done with
hand luggage), and with liis hands and arms full he starts for
the door. Everyone turns his or her feet sideways to enable
him to pass; he bumps everyone's knees, knocks their shins
and can hardly manage without losing his balance, and comes
dangerously near falling into the lap of a passenger first on
one side and then on the other. The passengers now come to
the rescue and take liis baggage while he goes edging and
squeezing his way along to the discomfort of everyone in the
compartment. Finally he reaches the door, and in order to
get out someone must relieve liim of the rest of his baggage, for
to unfasten the door he must let down the window, stick his
head and half of his bodj^ out of the car, reach doAvn on the
outside and unfasten the door. Then he steps out, and the
passengers, who have been holding liis luggage meanwhile,
pass it along to him or to a porter, and away goes the passenger
leaving the car-door and window wide open. Now someone
must get up and close this door and raise the window by aid
of a dangling strap, or leave it open until the train starts. I
have never seen a passenger leaving a car in England close the
door behind liim.

Just before the train starts the door opens and a big red-
faced Englishman looks in. Only one seat vacant. He leaves
the door open and looks into other compartments to find one
with more room. Finally he comes back and walks in, puffing
and blowing, wades between two rows of knees and sits down in
the seat vacated by the passenger that got ofi'. He had a drink
of Scotch before he started from home, walked to the station,
had another Scotch with a friend while waiting for the train. Of
course he left the door open when he came in and the passen-
gers take his luggage until he can get into his place and relieve
them of it. Now he sits down. The guard slams the door

PUPPIES

THE tJUORN PACK

Two Daijs With the Quorn {First Day) 151

like the discharf^e of a shot gun. The train starts. The new
man feels heated and lets down the window. The other nine
passengers, eliilled to the marrow, sit in the draught while the
man cools liis Scotch.

Walking to the station, his boots collected a load of mud,
but by the time he reached liis corner he had them fairly well
cleaned. He left the mud on the gentlemen's trousers and the
ladies' dresses as he passed to his seat. This is railway travel
in England. This may seem to many of my readers an exag-
geration. I assure them that it is not.

This is my apology for feeling cross at the end of the
journey that landed me in Leicester. The trouble is that when
you get chilled tlirough, there is not a stove or furnace in all
England (that I ever saw) where you can get warm. Grin
and bear it, or rather "take Scotch-and-put-up-with-it," is the
only resource.

When I arrived at the Bay Mare Inn the landlady called
a chambermaid to show me my room (chambermaids in
England do the duties of the bell boys as well) and the
"boots" to take up my luggage. The chambermaid wears
a wliite cap and the "boots" an apron of green baize cloth as
a badge of their respective duties. There are no bootblacks
in England as in the States. You put your shoes in the hall
at night and the "boots" cleans them.

My room is as damp and chilly as a sepulchre. The fog
has penetrated my clothing until I feel like a corpse. I am
half desjjerate, at least reckless.

"Well!" I said to the chambermaid who stood in the door-
way wringing and chafing her hands with the cold, her nose as
red as her hands, her features pinched, "What's the matter?"

"Please, sir."

"What's the matter? Why do you stand there wringing
your hands?"

"Oh, I's awful cold, sir."

152 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

"Cold! Why, that's nothing. I haven't been warm for two
weeks. Think of ginger. You should not let a little thing Uke
the cold trouble you. Bring me a pitcher of ice water."

"Ice water, sir? You mean hot water, don't you, sir?"

"Well, bring something and be smart about it."

Dear me, the room was so cold and damp it nearly put the
candle out.

"Anything else, sir?" said the chambermaid standing in the
doorway and still rubbing her hands. "Would you like a hot
water bottle to put in your bed, sir?"

"Yes, in the name of the Society for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Animals, yes, put in a dozen."

"A dozen, sir?"

"Yes, or you will never hear a copper jingle in my pocket."

"I don't tliink there are a dozen bottles in the house, sir."

Tliis conversation goes on while I wash my face and hands.

"Well, then put in eleven."

No doubt the poor girl thinks I am crazy. She shakes her
head and goes on chafing her hands.

"How many can you supply?"

"There are only two in the house, sir. Would you hke a
fire in the grate, sir?"

I had already had experience with grate fires in other hotels.
They burn only soft coal. They open the flue while they build
the fire: it burns for about an hour, then all the rest of the
night the fog and damp comes doAvn the cliimney, until the
walls of your room are wet. The grate in this room would hold
about as much coal as a No. 7, possibly a No. 7 1-8, derby hat.

"No, thank you. I prefer the cool invigorating air of the
room, but if you don't get that bed warmed by 9 o'clock, you
will surely turn grey."

"I'll do the best I can, sir."

As I go down stairs. Madam, who has had an ear to my
coming, meets me with a motherly smile. "What would you

Two Dai/s With the Qiiorn {First Day) 153

like, sir? A cup of tea in the smoking room, or would you
prefer something to eat? Diinier will not be served until half-
past six."

"I'll take a cup of tea, please."

"Thank you. Will you have it served in the smoking room
or in the dining room?"

"Oh, the smoking room."

"Smoking room, right, sir," and with a matronly air she
says: "You know the way, don't j^ou, sir? This way. Your
tea will be there in a minute."

In the barroom were some half dozen grooms and stable-
men sipping their bitter and talking horse, wliile one of the
number was leaning on the bar laughing with the barmaid
and trying to say something to make her blush. "I wouldn't
go to master wth a feed bill," one groom was saying to
another, "until the frost lifts, for— for— well, I'd sooner lose
three weeks' wages, so I would." And he brought his fist
down on the table with a bang to prove that he meant it.

A dozen or fifteen gentlemen were seated about the smok-
ing room. All were looking serious and very matter of fact,
each making the others more miserable, no doubt, by talking
about the weather and the capital D frost. It was a sort of
an "inferno" place: it must have been, for it was warmer than
could be accounted for by the little grate fire. As I entered
the room, most of the gentlemen looked uj) from their books
and papers and glasses, and as I walked to the fireplace, I
said to a group of gentlemen who made way for me, "Good
evening, gentlemen." No one answered : and then, not realis-
ing the state of their minds about the weather. I said. "A cold,
disagreeable day, gentlemen." No reply and I felt more cliilly
than ever.

This was my first visit to England and I did not know
Englislmien then or how to get at them. When an American
first goes to England he compares them to a turtle that lives

154 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

entirely witliin its shell, except its head, and it draws that in if
a stranger looks at it. You can generally ride hundreds of
miles alone with an Englishman in a compartment and he will
never speak to you. If you have a letter of introduction or they
know who you are and where you come from, it is all right. I
once found myself in Kent, and thinking that I would hke to

visit Sir Thomas G 's hackneys, I hired a livery and drove

four miles to liis place. I rang the bell and told the servant
what I wanted. I was directed to go to the bailiff (farm man-
ager). I said, "I came to see Sir G 's horses."

"Did you have an apiJointment ?" asked the bailiff.

"No," I said: "I was in the neighbourhood and am inter-
ested in hackneys, etc. Can I see them?"

"Well, yes, but you had better have an appointment."

"To whom shall I apply?"

"Oh, simply write to Sir Thomas and you will soon receive
a reply."

I could scarcely see the necessity of tliis, as I knew Sir
Thomas was at home. I returned to London wthout accom-
phshing my purpose. A friend to whom I told my experience
said, "Yes, in this country they never like to have anyone come
in on them without notice. You write Sir Thomas a letter
telling him who you are, where you came from and what you
want to see." At first I said "I came to tliis country to buy
some hackneys, and Sir Thomas can go where the woodbine
twineth." Finally, to please my English friend and to see how
it would turn out I wrote to Sir Thomas, and by return post
received a letter from his secretary saying that Sir Thomas
would be pleased to see me at the Hall any day that suited my
convenience. If I Avould let him know the day and train, he
would send to the station for me. I went and was met at the
train by a coachman in Hvery. Sir Thomas showed me all
about the stables and took me through the wonderful old manor
house, gave me a nice lunch and returned me to the train.

Two Days With the Quorn {First Day) 155

That's English. It's very nice when you know how to go
about it.

The reception in the smoking room of the Bay Mare Inn
was quite as chilly as anything 1 had previously experienced,
and I made up my mind never again to attempt to be civil or
to speak to an Englishman unless I was sjjoken to.

The landlady followed the maid in with my pot of tea. She
poured it for me herself.

"Is that to your Hking, sir?"

"Yes, thank you."

^VU the time she was waiting on me she was talking to this
and that gentleman: for one she had mended a pair of gloves,
for another she had washed out some hunting scarves. She
seemed to be the mother of the whole lot of them; a nice family,-
only I thought that she might have taught them to be a little
more civil to strangers. I drank my tea in silence and retired
into a shell of my own, which by the time we went out to dinner
I could feel growing to ciuitc a thickness. It was a most
satisfying dinner: great shces of roast beef to satisfy the wants
of a wood chopper, cold meats, a stuffed hog's head, etc. I ate
my dinner in silence: but, dear me, by the time coffee was
served in the smoking room I thawed out in spite of myself,
and the first thing I knew I was on speaking terms with one
of the most agreeable gentlemen it has ever been my good for-
tune to meet. Col. Richardson, to whom I was afterwards in-
debted for one of the grandest day's sport I ever enjoyed with
hounds, an account of which I will attemjjt to give in my second
day's experience with the Quorn. We talked horse, hunting
and hounds, forwards, sideways and backwards until we were
the only persons in the smoking room. The Colonel had rid-
den to hounds in America and knew several gentlemen of my
acquaintance.

"But," said the Colonel, "I do not fancy those Long Island
fences. I own to flunking timber."

156 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

The Colonel advised me where to go to secure a mount.
The stable I applied to early the next morning was that of a
"Jobmaster." Yes, he could mount me that day for the Quorn,
as it was a bye day: three guineas (over 15 dollars) ; and at ten
o'clock I went to get my mount, which, by the charge, I ex-
pected would be something first-class. Imagine my surprise
when the groom led out an old stiffened hunter that looked
hardly up to my weight.

"Where is the owner?" I inquired. "Gone to the meet, sir.
Master said I was to show^ you the way, sir." "But," I said,
"that poor old cripple is not fit to carry me." "Be
all right, sir, soon as 'e's limbered hup a bit." I had my doubts.
He had been fired and blistered and nerved. However, I
hacked that old hunter seven long miles to the meet. I made up
my mind that I would ride out to see the start and ride back:
to Leicester.

At the meet I saw the dealer and complained about my
mount. The two grooms who accompanied me were beauti-
fully mounted and so was the owner. I could not understand it.
"Go all right," said the jobmaster, "directly the hounds throw
off." I was invited into the house for a taste and was here
introduced to the INIaster, the Earl of Lonsdale. It seemed as
if the great dining hall was full of dukes and lords. Lord
Lonsdale impressed me as a most affable gentleman, easily
approached. I noticed that he spoke to farmers and lords in
the same gentlemanly manner.

As we rode along to covert I saw a fine looking gentleman.
Lord So and So, in a pink hunting coat and brass buttons, white
silk breeches, liigh silk hat and top boots, begging a light of
some country chap on a long-tailed, long-haired farm horse. In
the hunting field in England everyone seems to meet on a level.
An English gentleman holds liis standing so securely that he
can speak with any one of his acquaintance without ever feeling
that he has lowered himself in doing so. Altogether an

THE EARL OF LONSDALE, M. F. H.

Tico Dai/s With the Quorn {First Da//) 157

English gentleman is the most gentlemanly gentleman in the
world (except to strangers).

We jog on to covert. There is not a breath of air stirring.
Therefore, in getting into position for the start, one side of the
covert seemed as favourable as the other. Hounds were cast
in on the northAvest corner of an oblong piece of wood — about
four acres. Some of the riders went along the north side and
some turned down the west end. I chose the latter, as foxes
usually lie in a covert where the sun can strike them. jNIy idea
was that if there was a fox in the covert, he would probably
be found on the sunny side and break south. Unfortunately,
this well-laid plan worked to my disadvantage. Hounds went
straight along the north fence and ran out at the northeast
corner of the covert, so that by the time my old wreck arrived
on the south side of the covert the liounds were fully a mile
away. I had plenty of company, for fully half the hunt — fifty
or sixty — came my way.

To make matters worse, we had to ride slowly through a bog
and the hounds went away with such a burning scent that they
never gave tongue to the line, at least no one on our side heard
a whimper. When the riders on my side took in the situation
they raced away at such a fearful pace that my poor old scow
was fairly left standing. He was a clever old chap at fences
and ditches, but it was no use. I pulled him u]) in the third
field and returned to Leicester. I left him' with the stable man
with ten sliillings and my card and address instead of the three
guineas. I came to the conclusion that three guineas was the
price of the horse. The groom said that I was mistaken. How-
ever, three guineas was more than I would have cared to pay
for him, and we let the matter drop. That evening I was
telling the Colonel my experience. "Oh, what a shame!" he
cried. "I'll never send another person to his stables. Did you
tell him I sent you?" "No," I replied. (That, probably, was
my mistake, not properly introduced, you see.) "I don't un-

158 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

derstand it," continued the Colonel, much more worked up
about it than I was. "I saw the owner and two of his grooms
out on good ones," I remarked. "He must have had a customer
for two or three and was having them ridden to sell. I wish
I had gone down to the stable with you. I'll tell you what,"
added the Colonel, "you stay over to-morrow and I will give
you a mount." I remonstrated. "I've twelve hunters in the
stables, one sort and another," replied the Colonel, taking no
heed to my remarks. "Tliey are all kicking their boxes to
jjieces for want of work, and if you will stay you can have a
mount and welcome." I said that it was too much. But the
Colonel insisted. "I don't want you to go back to New York
until you have had a day with the Quorn. I should really
feel badly to think of it. What do you ride at?" he asked.
"I weigh 186 pounds." "Let me see, fourteen pounds to
the stone, that means a good horse." "Yes," I said, "and I

really " "That's all right," broke in the Colonel. "I ride

nearly that weight myself, I was tliinking what horse to give
you." He closed his eyes and went over the hst on his fingers
until he came to, "All! yes, that's it, Richard — Richard the
Bay: he is an Irish horse and as good as they make them. All
you have to do is to sit still, give him his head at the jumps and
he will pull you through any country where a horse can go."
I stayed, and the day I had on "Richard the Bay" I shall
remember as long as I live.

"I'd a lead of them all rvhen xice came to the brook,
A big one. a bumper and up to your chin.
As he threw it behind him I turned for a look,
There were eight of us at it and seven got in.
Then he shook his lean head ichile he heard them go flop,
This Clipper that stands in the stall at the top."

Old Hunting Song.

XIV

TWO DAYS WITH THE QUORN (SECOND DAY)

RICHARD THE BAY — THE MEET — THE CHASE — THE BROOK —
COLONEL RICHARDSON.

WELL, groom," said I, on entering the stable early the
next morning, "How is Richard the Bay? He must
be very fit after a rest of two weeks."

" 'E's as fit as can be, sir," answered the groom, with a dab
at his cap. "Are you the gentleman as master said is going to
ride him to-day, sir?"

"Yes," I replied, "I came in to have a look at him."

"Just so, sir, just so. 'E's in this 'ere box, sir. Master
thinks a lot of this 'ere 'orse. 'E do for a fact, sir."

Then the groom went on, thinking I might be a purchaser,
with the usual stable lingo, which would probably have been
the same had it been any other of the Colonel's twelve horses
that I wanted to see.

We entered the box, and as the groom stripped off the
blankets, Richard let both heels fly at them as much as to say
"good riddance to you."

160 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

"Fit! I should say he is!" I remarked. "He is simply
spoiling for a run."

" 'E's allers that way, sir, when 'e's been in for a few days.
I daresay, sir, you will find 'im a bit above hisself to-day, sir,
but he means nothing by that, sir. A quieter, better-mannered
'orse never looked through a bridle, sir."

To prove his words, the groom stroked Richard's hind legs
and pulled him about, adding, "There is not a bit of ^^ce in-
tended, sir. You can tell that by the looks on him, can't you,
sir?"

I liked Richard immensely. I liked him all the better for
kicking off liis blankets. I once owned a hunter that did the
very same trick, when, as the groom expressed it, " 'E was feel-
ing a little above hisself."

What a delightful morning it was ! The sun shone and the
wind was just right to insure a good scenting day. What a
change had come over the spirits of every one. The morning
train from I^ondon and the north brought back two score or
more riders who had gone away during the frost, wliile a dozen
horse cars, which were attached to the express trains, brought
in tmce as many hunters.

Men in scarlet were seen everywhere about the Bay ]Mare
Inn.

Our landlady had her hands full looking after all the little
wants of her guests.

"Sportsmen are such careless fellows," she informed me, and
added, in a confidential tone, "I would as soon fit out as many
girls for a party."

A bell rings vigorously.

"Yes, sir, in just a moment. That's Lord ringing

for his boots. He forgot to put them out to be cleaned. I do
hope," she continued, "you will have a good run and come
home as hungry as wolves."

Here she broke off to pull on a glove for a gentleman

Trco Days With the Qnorn {Second Day) 161

who had a fall yesterday and must ride with one hand to-day.

Outside everything was in commotion. Hunters in charge
of grooms and stable boj-s were always in sight and the town
people were collecting to see us off.

Finally the time comes for us to mount for a three-mile
ride to the meet. ]My heart was in a bit of a flutter, as the
ladies say, when I heard the groom leading Richard the Bay
from his stall. I could tell by the sound of his stately tread
that he had the walk and carriage of a gentleman. The groom
opened the stable door, Richard stopped, cocked his head to
one side like an old tar survej'ing the weather; his great nostrils
dilated and his sides swelled as he took in a deep breath of the
sharp, invigorating air. After a pause the groom pulled a httle
at the bridle.

"Come along, hold man, this is j^our day for 'unting."

But Richard stood there gazing about as if he were some
bloated landlord about to bargain for the place. I had to smile
to see the knowing rascal entirely oblivious of the groom pulling
(very gently, however) at his bridle.

"Don't disturb him, groom, he'll come when he has finished
his observations."

Finally Richard came to himself and began pla^nng with
the bits. Again his nostrils dilated. The groom reached up
his hand to steady him out. Richard pushed away liis hands
with a disgusted expression, as if to saj% "I'm quite able to
take care of myself." And then, spurning all assistance, he
stepped out into the wet yard like a lady in opera gown and
shppers.

The groom walked him around the yard once or twice for
my inspection. Richard was a big. upstanding Irishman; — a
trifle ragged at the hips, as most Irish hunters are. His quar-
ters, however, were most powerful, the muscles running well
down to his hocks. He carried a grand middle piece, with
shoulders to suit the most exacting. His grandest characteris-

162 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

tic, however, was his great brown eyes, soft and mild, with the
greatest width between them, making him one of the most intel-
hgent-looking horses I had ever seen. His long straight neck
was beautifully set on both head and shoulders, and he carried
his head just right to make him a model cross-country horse,
wliile under him he carried four clean legs of unusual strength
and substance, with very large knee and hock joints. Alto-
gether, he was quite an ideal pattern of a weight-carrying
hunter. The groom stood directly in front of Richard, with a
hand to each side of his face, holding him by the bits. The
stable boy was standing on the off side, the stirrup leather in
one hand and the iron in the other. I thought Richard was
about 15.3 hands, but when I came up near enough to mount I
saw that he was closer to 16.1.

I gathered up the reins, and the instant my foot was in the
stirrup and my weight off the ground I felt Richard gathering
himself, and I knew what was coming. Dropping quickly into
the saddle I nodded to the groom.

"Look sharp, sir," he cried, as he sprang to one side. At
this Richard gave one exultant bound and then another, and
came down stiff legged ; then, up again hke a rabbit, frightened
from a brush pile. Then, with his heels high in the air as a part-
ing to groom and stable, he shot out of the yard on to the green
in front of the Bay Mare Inn.

I thought best to let Richard have a bit of a fling just to
take a few of the superfluous kinks out of his legs and back.
He was simply too happy to contain himself, and when he saw
the other hunters gathering in front of the hotel his bottled-up
exuberance had to find vent in sundry quirks and artful ges-
tures of the head. He pretended to shy at a curbstone from
which he had been mounted many a time ; a bit of paper next
came to his attention, and I thought by the feeling under me
that Richard must have swallowed a spring bed. I hardly
knew what to do, as I was afraid the owner, who was standing

A MEET AT KIRBY GATE

THE FIELD MOVING OFF

Ticu Daijfi With lite Quoni {Second Day) KJli

oil the hotel steps, might think I Avas uiiahle to manage
llichard or, worse yet, that I was trying to show off. On the
other hand, I did not hke to take lliehard sharply by the head
and saw liim down, and possibly get into a fight with him
that might put him in bad humour for the day. I have seen
many a spirited mount made sulky and unhappy, spoiling
the day's sport for himself and his rider, because the latter was
too harsh and rank with him at the start. Hunting is a part-
nership game in which the rider should do his utmost to be
perfectly agreeable to his horse.

Regardless, therefore, of what anyone might say or think,
Richard had his fling and we settled down in a few minutes
with a perfect understanding and on the best of terms with each
other.

At least two hundred mounts rode out that day to pay their
respects to one little fox. Dukes and farmers, lords and traders,
squires and tenants, the lady from the hall and the country girl
from the cottage, all assembled, united in one common bond
stronger than freemasonry and as lasting as the church. The
]\Iaster, the Earl of Lonsdale, bowing graciously alike to the
farmer and the peer, rides up ^vith twenty odd couples of most
beautiful hounds. (This pack, or at least this hunt, is now over
two hundred years old.) Of course, the hunt servants, like his
Lordship, are faultlessly dressed. Gentlemen, who have driven
to the meet, now remove their overcoats and the white aprons
they have worn over their whitened riding breeches to preserve
them spotless to the hour of mounting, while the whole field is
moving about like a great kaleidoscopic picture. The sporting
parson in his priestly garb goes wandering about among his
flock like the one black sheep of the fold. I had heard a good
deal about the sporting parsons in England, but this was the
first time I had seen one hunting. It did look rather strange,
but he seemed to be as much loved and as highly respected by all
classes as the great Earl of Rosebery, at that time Prime Min-

164 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

ister of England, with whom he was at the moment exchanging
a pleasant greeting. The parson was a man who had lived
quite half a century. His hair was mottled grey ; but he was a
hard one to follow, as many of us could testify before the
day was done.

"Toot! Toot!" say the horns, and, headed by the Master
and hounds, the great cavalcade moves on to covert.

Hounds are thrown into a small "spinny" of possibly three
acres, while one of the whippers-in has been sent on to a position
where he can view the fox away when he leaves the covert.
The riders look well to their saddle girths ; cigars and cigarettes
are thrown away, hats are set a degree tighter, reins are
adjusted, and wth another look at throat latch and curb chain
we are ready for the chase. We hear the huntsman encourag-
ing the hounds to draw.

"Edawick! Edawick! Edawick!"

We move to the left of the covert, as there is a large open
field to the right, and the fox is not likely to go away in full
view. No one knows better than the writer what it means to
get a bad start. Some ambitious riders crowd on. We hear
the whimpering of a hound in covert. Even the languid Lon-
don chappie pulls down liis hat and rides up to the front with
a rush.

"Hold hard, gentlemen," shouts the Master. "Pray give
the fox a chance."

Some rider on a black horse moves up a few steps.

"Hold hard there, black horse! Look! gentlemen, look
where you are going, unless you want to head the fox back
to covert !"

Just then from the opposite side of the covert, we hear
the welcome shout of the whipper-in :

"Tally-o-away! Tally-o-away! Away! Away! Gone
away!"

Again the Master calls out:

Ttc'o Dans With the Quorti {Second Dai/) 1G5

"Now, please, gentlemen, hold hard. Give the hounds a
chance. They are not running yet."

Our mounts are now as restless as so many race-horses at
the starting post. They throw their heads, bite at their bits,
paw the ground, break away and let tlicir heels fly from sheer
impatience to be off'.

"Steady there, Richard; easy, easy, old man. It's coming
soon. Easy now."

"But look, master, I can't stand this much longer," said
Richard.

"Nor I either, old boy, but I must hold hard, you know."

Have the hounds gone to sleep, I wonder? Oh, those
trying minutes between a "Tally-o-away! Gone awa}%" and
the find. There comes a whimper as some hound half owns to
the line.

"Hark to Mistress! Hark to Mistress!" shouts the hunts-
man. "Hark to ^Mistress, my beauties."

The hounds rush to ISIistress, but they can't quite make it
out until Trumpeter hits off the line with a joyous shout.
Then, with a cheer from the huntsman that fills one's heart with
joy, the pack rush to the line with a burst of melody, and go
streaming away like race-horses from the post and the chase
is on.

Away we went. Our first fence was a neatly trimmed
hedge, about three and one-half feet high. I took Richard "by
the head" to steady him to it the same as at timber. Of all
things, a puller and a rusher at his fences is something I can-
not abide. Richard would have no meddling with his head and
he left the hedge behind him in his stride.

\Vhat\s this? An overgrown hedge with a ditch on the take-
off' side? I saw it was a neck-or-nothing ride but I made up my
mind to let Richard manage it. He knew more about this
style of jumping than I did. On we went, at a fearful pace.
Some were making for a gate to the right. Others were riding

166 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

their own line and going straight. I gave Richard a hght pull
to the right, but he had no eye for the gate. Alreadj^ his
mind was made ujj to take the fence, wliich I afterwards
learned was called a bull-finch (an overgrown hedge on a bank
with a ditch on either side) . I thought of the Colonel's words,
"All j^ou have to have to do is to sit still and Richard will take
you through any place where a horse can go." Still, I felt as
if I must steady him, for he was going at such an awful pace.
Others were going the same pace and taking the fence. Force
of habit is strong. I wanted to take Richard by the head as
if he were going for a stake-and-rider in the Genesee Valley.

"Nonsense," said Richard, "Come along, stranger, don't be
shy. I'll pull you through," and so he did, but his hind legs
dropped into the ditch on the landing side of the hedge.

"Richard, that was my fault. I will never interfere with
you again at a bull-finch."

We rode through a number of gates, a lane and along the
highway. Then we entered a meadow, jumped a small hedge,
and a sight to be remembered met my eyes. Forty riders,
more or less, were sailing down the gradual slope of a great
pasture field toward a stream brim full from the recent rains.
I had served years of apprenticeship at dry ditches and deep
ravines at home, but my experience at water was principally
confined to the usual twelve foot water jumps on exliibition
grounds.

Oh, that brook, black, silent, deep looking! Saints and
ministers of grace defend us ! I was ready to go home. There
are any number of ravines and ditches in the Genesee Valley,
as wide and as deep. Why this one should look so frightful,
simply because it was full of water, I cannot say. I knew it
must be the safer ditch of the two to cross. I could tell by the
feeling of Richard that he never thought of turning his back
to it.

"Come on," shouted the Colonel, who went past me with

Trco Daijs With the Qiioni {Second Day) 1G7

a rush, and there was nothing to be done but to harden my
heart and take it.

"F'ast at water and ditehes and slow at timber," is the
rule.

The Colonel went over all right. This encouraged me.
I was about ten rods behind, but a second later a little to the
right of my line a rider went splash into the stream. There
was another ominous splash to the left, but I had no time to
look.

"The i^arson's new hat jloated down the stream;
The brim was covered with mire.
His riderless horse was all lather and steam.
No questions were asked at the time, it would seem
The jmce was too good to inquire."

I wondered if the sight of these riders in the water would
cause Richard to refuse when he came to the brink. Xot he;
Richard never flinched, but went for that stream like a school-
girl at a skipping rope. He landed me dry shod on the opposite
bank.

How I loved that horse ! I looked back and saw two rider-
less horses and one dripi)ing rider holding on to the bridle,
his horse almost entirely submerged in the brook.

"Oh, Richard, you are a trump."

"How do you like him ?" asked the Colonel, as I rode up.

"I was never on a better one in my life," I replied. "I did
not like the bull-finch, and that brook nearly broke my heart,
but Richard would have it. Richard is managing this game
all right. I am only a passenger."

The Colonel looked pleased.

We are off" again. Finally, after a few more gates (I
never saw so much riding through gates) we came into a field
with a two bar fence on a small bank and no ditch on either

168 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

side. This was the first tiling I had seen that looked like home.
I expected, of course, to take it, but held back, being in a
strange country. Not a man went for that timber.

"What's the matter with that fence?" I asked a fellow
rider, who had never turned a hair at the sight of the brook.

"You are welcome to it," said he; "I own to flunking that
sort."

I should not like to say that a four-foot fence of timber
stopped the Quorn hunt. I think I must be mistaken.

A mile or more further on the hounds ran into their fox
and a hundred sportsmen, of the most fashionable pack of
hounds in England, chanted his funeral dirge with a whoop.

'Twos a very quick find: I went streaming axvaii.
That day with the Quorn, on "Bichard the Bay."
He did all the hunting, I'd no time to look;
He took me along over hull-finch and brook.

Two horses went in with a terrible splash.
But Bichard would have it and went with a dash.
How can I portray my feelings that day?
On that marvellous hunter, "Bichard the Bay!"

Many thanks to the Colonel, may he live long and well.
And the story of Bichard, to his grandchildren tell.
As long as I live 'tis my pleasure to say
That first among hunters comes "Bichard the Bay."

"Unharhourcd now the royal stag forsakes
His rcontcd lair; he shakes his dappled sides.
And tosses high his beamy head.
Such is the cry,

And such the harmonious din; the soldier deems
The battle kindling and the statesman grave
Forgets his weighty cares."

Somervile.

XV

THE ROYAL BUCKHOUNDS

KING EDWARD III QUEEN ANNE, THE CHURCH AND THE

CHASE — THE MEET AT ASCOT — THE GREAT ASSEMBLAGE —
QUEEN VICTORIA — THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF WALES.

rriHE Kings and Queens of Great Britain have always
*■ been foremost in the art and science of the chase. In
fact, hunting; was formerly confined to the royal families and to
such retainers as they were pleased to grant the privilege to.
To date its beginning "is to go back," says J. P. Hore in the
History of the Royal Buckhounds, "for over one thousand
years."

The records of the chase began, we believe, in the reign of
Edward III, 1327 to 1377. "That monarch," says the same
authority, "is said to have been every inch a sportsman. He
took his hawks and hounds with him wherever he went, whether
at home or abroad, in time of ])eace or in time of war."

The custom of taking hounds with the British Army to
war is in practice to this day. They went wth several regi-

170 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

ments of regulars to South Africa during the war with the
Boers. Hardly an English garrison can be found in any part
of the world to-day that does not support a pack of hounds.
The writer has had several delightful days with the regimen-
tal pack on the little island of Jersey, which is only fourteen
miles long and four to seven miles Avide and has less than 500
men and officers stationed there at a time. They have a very
unique way of hunting. The island is so small and well culti-
vated that only a narrow strip of land along the coast can be
ridden over. The fences are mostly hedge and earth banks
where, as in Ireland, a horse jumps upon the bank and then
jumps off again.

They lay a drag for six or seven miles and finish with a
"worry" for the hounds near some hotel along the coast where
the riders also find something to eat. After lunch they rest
for an hour or more, then liberate the hounds and run
the same trail backwards to the kennels. Of course this return
run is a steeplechase for speed because the hounds are running
their own tracks back to the kennels as fast as they can lay
foot to the ground. It is all good sport, the best that can be
expected. The writer will never forget his first experience
in bank jumping on the island of Jersey. His mount was
very slow but a very clever fencer. In the first five minutes
of the return run, not knowing the game, he found himself
quite in the rear. Hounds and riders were seen smnging to
the right and the writer thought to improve his position by
cutting across the circle they were making, so he headed his
lumbering old nag that Avay. He took a bank fence that was
only about three feet high from the take off" side, when to his
horror he found it a good seven or more feet from the top of
the bank to the ground on the landing side. There was notliing
to do but harden his heart and take the plunge the best he knew
how. Sitting on a sixteen hand horse whose four feet were
all in a bunch on the top of an eighteen hand fence, makes

The Roijal Biickliuuiuh 171

one feel a bit flighty, to say the least. Just how we managed
to reach the eartli again is still a question. It was a ploughed
field, but of steej) descent, and we landed somehow, but in
moving on, the old nag's feet got mixed, and down we went.
The fall began in the first stride after landing and never ended
until horse and rider fetched up at the bottom of the hill some
ten rods below. Never in the history of the island of Jersey
have a man and a horse collected such a quantity of soil on their
coats as was dragged out of that ploughed field on this occa-
sion.

Let us return to the Royal Buckhounds. A quotation from
the history of the Royal Euckliounds, in reference to a meet
with this famous pack, is especially interesting as showing the
true sportsmanlike conduct of King Edward III, in inviting
his prisoners of rank to join with him in the chase.

Now let us picture to ourselves the brilliant scene presented
at a meet of the Royal Buckhounds in those days. In our
mind's eye we see King Edward in his pride of place, accom-
panied by the Black Prince, and his wife, — who has achieved
such celebrity as "The Fair Maid of Kent," through whom
the Order of the Garter is said to have originated — "time-hon-
oured Lancaster," Lionel of Clarence, and a brilliant troop of
lords and ladies, knights galore, and doubtless many a squire
of low degree, who had but recently won his spurs on numer-
ous hard-fought fields, all well mounted and eager for the
chase. Besides the natives, let us glance at the foreigners of
distinction who are present at the meet. Tlie French King,
a prisoner of war on parole, the Duke of Orleans, with their
suites, the flower of the nobility of conquered France, are
there, trying to forget their misfortune in the pleasures of the
chase. How the heart of the peasant who came to see the meet
must throb with national pride as he looks upon the royalty
of hvmibled France! What pleasure he must feel as he tells
his sweetheart by his side that yonder sorrel carries Ralph,

172 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hoimd

Earl of Eu and Guisnes, High Constable of France, and on
either side she sees Charles, Lord of Blois, and the Earl of
Tancarville. David, King of Scotland, and Iiis Queen are
likewise present and likewise prisoners of war. There are
other great personages at the meet among King Edward's
guests upon whom fortune has not frowned, whom the fame
of England attracts to visit their hospitable shores. From the
East we see the King of Cyprus; from the North, the Sover-
eign of Denmark. The reigning Duke of Bavaria, the Duke
of Brabant, Sir Frank van Hall, Sir Henry Earn of Flanders,
"and many great lords and knights of Almain, Gascoigne, and
other countries," are also to the fore. A highly-coloured pic-
ture perchance, yet withal a faithful one without exaggeration.
Such a scene was witnessed in the vicinity of Windsor in those
(then rare) piping days of peace, preparatory to the INIaster
throwing off the hounds to seek the "antlered monarch of the
glen" within the confines of the forest "full of wilde dere,"
with "homes hie," the greatest that "were ever seen with eie,"
as old Chaucer hath it. These "grand huntings" were of fre-
quent occurrence, upon which the King expended, says Barnes,
in liis "History of Edward III," "extraordinary sums."

"When the cares of state permitted. Queen Anne and the
high officers of the Court usually repaired to Windsor in July
for the avowed purpose of buck hunting. The Royal Diana
Venatrix was early and 'well entred' to the chase under personal
supervision of her Royal father, who (before he wore the
weary crown) was the most ardent huntsman of his day. Im-
bued with such venatic associations, Anne became a mighty
huntress. She continued to follow hounds on horseback until
the gout precluded the continuance of that exhilarating exer-
cise. Nevertheless, her ardour for the chase remaind undi-
minished; when she could not use the saddle she hunted on
wheels. Her Majesty's hunting calash was a light two-wheeled
carriage, containing a single seat, on which the Royal 'whip'

The Roi/al liuckhoumh 173

sat gracefully poised, skilfully tooling the splendid black road-
ster in the shafts. In this vehicle she was enabled to follow a
run with the buckhounds through the forest glades of
Merry Windsor, sometimes covering forty miles in a single
day.

"Hunting predominated in every part of the Kingdom.
The example set by the Royal pack found emulation in all
quarters, hounds were ridden to by all classes, from lords and
ladies of high degree to the stiu'dy yeomen farmei's.

"Like many of her predecessors," concludes the author
above quoted, "Queen Anne delighted to see 'Common people'
hunt and be merry when riding to her hounds."

So it has ever been and is to this day a cardinal virtue of the
English nobility to make room and give welcome to the com-
mon people who desire to join them in the chase of any game
afield.

Queen Elizabeth, says the same author, "Kept Stag-
bounds, TTarthounds, Harriers and Otterhounds."

The church vied with the state in following the chase, from
the Bishop down to the poorer priest.

Since the reformation, however, the pastime among the
"cloth" has been much curtailed, nevertheless, there is to-day
hardly a Hunt in Great Britain but has from one to half a
dozen hard riding parsons on its list of members, and very
welcome attaches they are to any hunt.

Even to this day there are in England several packs of
hounds whose M. F. H's fight death in the saddle three days
of the week, and the devil from the i)ul])it on the seventh.

"The latest recruit to the ranks of jVIaster of Foxhounds in
England," says "Rider and Driver," "is the Rev. Sir William
Hyde of IVIelford Hall, Long ^felford, Suffolk. Five years ago
Sir William established a capital pack of harriers to hunt the
country around Long INIelford; but on hearing that the New-
market and Thurlow country was falling vacant, he allowed

174 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

himself to be nominated as M. F. H. of the country. When
at Cambridge University, Sir William Hyde Parker was
whipper-in to the Trinity College Foot Beagles, and has ever
since been deeply interested in hunting, so he came to his new
post well prepared. The Rev. Charles Rundas Everett, a
whilom navy chaplain, was Master of the famous Berkshire
Vale Harriers in the sixties and seventies."

Parson sportsmen as a rule are the most enjoyable men
one can meet with in any country, and why should they not
enjoy the harmless joys of life hke other men as they pass
along? Are they not flesh and blood? Shall we not all lie
ahke in our graves?

If a preacher i« a teacher by example as well as by words,
how is he to demonstrate every day religion except by an
every day example and how can he better set that example than
by actual contact with week day men, in week day sports?

Parson Jack Russell was one of the most noted hunting
characters in England. He was not only a hard riding par-
son to hounds, but was Master and huntsman to his own pack
of otter as well as foxhounds.

He was also a noted breeder of terriers and was the first,
we believe, to enter terriers in a regular way to the chase of
the fox.

Here is the Parson's owii description of "Trump," the pro-
genitress, says "Thormanby," in "Kings of the Hunting
Feld," of the renowned Russell strain of Fox Terriers: "White
with a patch of dark tan over each eye and ears, while a similar
spot not larger than a penny, marked the roots of the tail.
Coat thick, close and a trifle wiry, legs straight as arrows, size
and height, those of a full grown vixen."

"So great was his fame as a huntsman and ISIaster," says
the same author, "that when his meets were announced the
whole countrj^side kept holiday. No farmer who had a horse
or a pony failed to be present. Labour was entirely suspended

The Koijal liiich-lioiind.s 175

and even the women put on their Sunday honnets and shawls
to go and see Parson Russell find his fox."

This o-rand old sportsman hunted his hounds to his eighty-
sixth year. His riohle deeds in the hunting field and ehurch
as well, will he handed down in Devonshire to iimumerahle
generations yet unborn.

We have been dwelling in covert overlong. Let us hasten
on to a day, when in company with liis good friend Col. Rich-
ardson, whom the reader already knows as the owner of
"Richard the Bay," the writer paid a visit to Windsor Castle
and rode through the great Windsor park forest to the meet
of the Royal Buckhounds at Ascot. It was a notable gather-
ing, for it was at the time of the Queen's jubilee. Many per-
sons of the royal court, official dignitaries of the govenunent,
officers of the army and navy, were assembled at Windsor to
join in the royal welcome extended to distinguished foreign
visitors.

We reached Windsor the day before, so as to be present to
witness the arrival of her Majesty's royal guests.

The *Prince and Princess of Wales, the Duke and Duchess
of York, and many others were at the station to welcome the
distinguished guests. The city was gaily decorated with flags
and bunting. The noted "Life Guards," probably the finest
body of men in the service of any country, were on hand as an
escort, and a regiment of two of the regulars lined the streets
from the station to the castle.

It was all very grand, but to see these great men and a
hundred other titled ladies and gentlemen the following day
riding in the chase among tenant farmers, shop keepers and
jobmasters, was the best sight of all. Her ^Majesty, Queen
Victoria, honoured the occasion with her presence by driving
to the meet in a common \ictoria like scores of others, who were
there on a similar mission. It was at this particular meet that
*Since crowned King Edward \'II ;uid Quluii Alcxiuidni.

176 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

we saw a grand old man of eighty or more, leaning heavily on
his daughter's shoulder as he left liis carriage — for he was quite
a cripple — to be hfted into the saddle and fastened there with
straps about his legs. The reins were put in his hands and
with no attendant save liis daughter, he rode that day in the
chase. Soon the noted pack came out on the four corners with
no more pomp or display than there is to be seen at any
ordinary meet. Meanwhile, the Prince of Wales was riding
about among the tenant farmers and nobles, to whom he
was, alike, speaking a word and recognising with a kindly
smile.

These are the qualities that go so far towards making the
Prince of Wales so popular with the British people. He is
first, last and all the time, a genuine sportsman. He is noted
as a breeder of all kinds of farm stock which he enters at all
the leading fairs, as Avell as at the local shows. He never ex-
hibits anything but what he breeds and raises on his own
farms. He competes every year and loses to tenant farmers
more often than he wins, but he is out with them to play the
game, win or lose. At these exliibitions his cattle stand in
ordinary stalls alongside those of ordinary farmers.

For the day, at least, he is neither prince nor peer, but an
English farmer, and as such goes walking about the grounds
inspecting the stock, shaking hands with the farmers, and
thanking a shepherd lad for holding a prize ram while he parts
the wool to inspect the quality of fleece.

This is the most charming characteristic, not only of the
Prince of Wales, but of the royalty of Great Britain in gen-
eral. Whatever their faults, they are as a rule, under all cir-
cumstances, true sportsmen. In whatever game they enter,
they put themselves for the time being on a level with their
humblest competitors.

They tell a good story in Scotland concerning the Prince of
Wales — a story, it is said, that he is fond of telling upon him-

The Roi/al Biickhonnds 177

self. It seems tliat his Royal Highness and two other gentle-
men of the Royal family were bird shooting in Scotland.
^Vhen the day's sport was over they came out into the liigh-
way, where it had been arranged that their host's carriage was
to meet them. Through some misunderstanding the carriage
failed to arrive at the appointed place. Meantime a Scotch
farmer happened along in a two-wheeled farm or market cart.
The Prince of Wales proposed to liis friends that they ask the
farmer for a ride into town.

"Would you kindly give us a Hft into town?" inquired the
prince.

"Come up," replied the farmer, after looking these gentle-
men over critically, "come up and be smart about it, for a ha'
no too much time for getting me butter to the evening express
for Edinburgh."

The Prince of Wales got up in front and the other two
gentlemen sat up beliind, guns in hand, on a scat riding back-
wards. The Scotchman whipped up and they were off at a
rattling pace. After driving a little distance the Prince of
Wales turned to one of the gentlemen riding beliind and
inquired, "Are you coming on all right, prince?"

"Oh nicely, thank you. This is quite the most enjoyable
drive I have had in years."

At tliis the farmer pricked up his ears and finally inquired
of the Prince of Wales, "Who are the gentlemen u]) behind?"
"The one back of you," replied the prince, "is Prince Charles
of Denmark and the other is Prince Henry of Battenberg."
There was a long pause, when the farmer continued, "And who
are you?" "Well," replied the genial Prince, "they call me the
Prince of Wales." There was another long pause, when his
Royal Highness added, "Now I have told you who we are,
perhaps you will kindly tell us whom we have the honour of
riding wth." "Aim the Tzar of Russia," replied the farmer,
to the great delight of his three princely passengers.

178 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

The meet of the Royal Buckhounds and a ride through the
great forests of Windsor Castle, was a day to remember, espe-
cially on account of the presence of Her Majesty, the Queen,
who seemed supremely happy in the fact that her hounds were
giving every one such a grand day's sport.

"He stands at hay, against yon knotty trunk.
That covers ivell Ids rear; his front presents
An host of foes."

Somervile.

XVI

A DAY WITH LORD ROTHSCHILD'S STAG-
HOUNDS

NEW year's eve in LONDON — THE FOG THE MEET — THE

CRATEU STAG ENLARGING THE STAG THE CHASE — THE

CAPTURE.

A SPORT loving English friend who knew the writer's ad-
miration for an English hound, his fondness for an Irish
hunter and his w^eakness for riding to hounds whenever oppor-
tunity afforded, said, "You ought to pay a visit to Lord Roths-
child's staghounds and the hunting stables of his brother, Mr,
Leopold de Rothschild at Leighton Buzzard, for the pack is one
of the best to be found in the Kingdom; and finally, if you
would hke a cross country gallop over some of the most beauti-
ful hunting country in the Queen's domain, you should not

fail "

"But I have not had the pleasure of meeting his Lordship."
"Never mind that, you simply write him a letter saying you
are from America and you would like to visit the kennels and
stables, and your way will be made smooth."

"On any other subject," continued my friend, "it might be
difficult, but when it comes to a (piestion of sport, hounds,
hunters or hunting, there is no barrier. An English nobleman

180 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hojind

may seek the most exclusive club or society, but when it comes
to a question of sport all meet on the level; and if in visiting
this stud and kennels you are not made welcome, it will be the
first time in the liistory of Great Britain that an English
sportsman, no matter what his station, ever failed. If you
M'ish, I will write Lord Rothscliild for you. You certainly
ought to see these hounds and I am sure his Lordship will be
very pleased to have you."

In due time there came the follo^ving:

"Lord Rotlischild directs me to say he will be very pleased
to have you visit the kennels, wliich are at Ascot, Leighton
Buzzard. If you will Idndly inform his brother, ISIr. Leopold
de Rothscliild, who lives at Ascot, on what day and train you
are coming, he will see that you are met at the station and
shoAvn all about."

There are few more interesting or more beautiful places
in England than the home of Mr. Leopold de Rothscliild at
Ascot.

The private secretary, Mr. Tarver, took me in hand, first to
visit the kennels, where the huntsman, John Boore, exhibited
singly and in couples, as my friend predicted, some of the
grandest staghounds in England, all twenty-five inches and
over, at the shoulder, and as alike as peas from the same pod,
especially those of liis own breeding.

Boore had lately come into the position of huntsman made
vacant by the celebrated huntsman and hound breeder, Fred
Cox, who for forty-five years had filled that position before
him. Boore loves a liound and it was easy to see he had the eye
and judgment in hound breeding to preserve and perpetuate
the very high standard set by liis predecessor.

The hounds duly inspected, we passed the enclosure where
the stags were confined — some eight or ten of them — in a pad-
dock adjoining a stable into which they are driven and from
which they are carted, in turn, to be liberated for the chase.

LORD ROTHSCHILD AND MR. LEOPOLD DE ROTHSCHILD

A Dot/ With Lord RolJischUd's Staghounds 181

When they are finally brought to hay at the close of the chase,
they are secured by ropes or driven into a near-by staole, from
which they are again forced into the cart. They are returned
to the paddock to wait their turn to lead the chase again.

Now we come to the celebrated heavy weight hunters, for it
must be remembered that INIr. Leopold de Rothschild rides at
something over fifteen stone or two hundred and twenty-five
pounds. Tills means that it requires a good horse to carry
him.

Xearly all the hunters have been Irish bred and have been
selected \AW\ great care and at prices consistent with the weight
they have to carry as well as their ability beyond question to
carry their owner over some of the stiff est jumping country in
that part of England. It is doubtful if there can be found in
an}' other one stud in England so many thoroughly qualified
heavy rceight hunters. There were probably a score of them
that woidd weigh twelve hundred pounds and over, with bone
enough for cart horses, and still with quality such as one only
finds in the Irish hunter of such great size. \Vhile many of
them were a bit rough and ragged about the liips, also a char-
acteristic of the Irish hunter, they were exceedingly muscular.
There was not what might be called a short-backed horse in
the string.

"^lust have length to get on," said the groom, "and a horse
to keep with his Lordship's staghounds over grass must kee^)
moving."

After a look through the racing stables, we repaired to the
manor house through one of the most lovely, old-fashioned,
formal gardens in England. The house itself is a dream of
beauty and a joy to all beholders.

It was New Year's Eve in I^ondon. It was a day that even
a Londoner, who seldom sees the sun in \\-inter, calls "beastly."
The lamps in the street had been burning with a sallow light

182 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

all day. A thick, yellow, greasy fog enveloped everything,
bringing with it from the air above the smoke and soot from
a million fires. It made your eyes smart and irritated your
lungs and lampblacked your linen. It not only made every-
tliing damp and clammy to the touch but it penetrated your
bones to cliill the marrow and make you cross outside and
inside.

Such a day was December tliirty-first, eighteen hundred and
ninety-nine, in London. We had spent our Christmas away
from home and now the New Year was at hand, but in such a
melancholy garb as to bring on a fit of homesiclviiess, or some-
thing worse, the blues.

In the hotel bar-room, the landlady was demanding an
extra sixpenny piece from a transient. The soft expressionless
face of the barmaid even failed to produce a grin as she tittered
to a soft-pated youngster, who was drinking her health wliile
he squeezed her hand over the bar, and the other chappies who
had come in on the same errand were dull and stupid beyond
the effects of "polly and scotch."

"Here's a letter for you, sir," said mine hostess, unex-
pectedly. It read : "INIr. Leopold de Rothschild wishes me to
inform you that there is to be a meet of Lord Rothscliild's
hounds to-morrow at Vicarage Farm, Wingrave, Leighton
Buzzard. Although it is a bye day, Mr. Rothschild thinks
you would enjoy it, as it will be over some of our most beauti-
ful country. Tliis being a holiday for many, the attendance
is sure to be good. INIr. Rothschild also wishes me to say that
if you can come, answer by wire so I can arrange for your
mount, which I have in reserve pending your reply.

'Tarver.
"Private Secretary to Leopold de Rothschild."

"If I can come!" I would go anywhere to get out of this,
but really I am as bad as the ladies, bless them, I have nothing
to wear. One pair of riding trousers is in the wash, the other

A Day With Lord lioth-schild's Staghounds 18.3

needs mending; however, if the fog is as thick to-morrow no
one will be the wiser whether I have "anj'tliing to wear" or
not. "If I can come." Yes, if I can crawl I will come. Wonder
if the fog will lift. What is the forecast for to-morrow? "Sta-
tionary barometer, London and vicinity, Cloudy and fog."

I was slow making friends with INIorphcus that night
and when finally he took a hand he was so shy about it that
my dreams came in a tangle. It seemed that while lying in a
puddle of ice water (that was owing to the damp linen sheet
that nothing could warm), a great stag came to the puddle to
quench his thirst, wliich was so great that it seemed he would
drink all the water and thus expose the dreamer's hiding
place, for he had "nothing to wear" and had taken to this
refuge in hopes the riders would pass him unobserved. Then
came the hounds, and they all commenced to drink and they
were as tliirsty as the stag, who still continued to guzzle do%vn
the water until the pond was nearly dry. A few pond lily
leaves were now all that ^\■ere left by way of covering and he
knew how Eve must have felt with all the animals of the garden
staring at her when she and Adam received notice to vacate, —
she having "nothing to wear." The dreamer saw the riders
come galloping up to water their horses. Just then there was a
pull at the pond lily leaves. The stag was eating them. No,
he was mistaken. It was only a gentle pull on the bedclothes
by the chambermaid, and, "I have brought your hot water,
sir; the clock has gone five, sir. The boots ^nll bring your
riding breeches and hunting boots in a moment."

"How is the weather?"

"The fog is still on, sir," — going to the window to raise the
shade, — "but I think it's surely going to clear, sir."

It was evident that she had waited on hunting men before.
She knew her trade and received a shilling for her cheerful
prophecy when otherwise she would have had to do with a
sixpence.

184 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

"Will you have your tea brought up or will you take it in
the breakfast room? The cab has been ordered for you at
five-thirty, sir."

What a rehef that the lily pond Avas only a dream and that
"it was surely going to clear." The bill was too much by a
couple of shillings. Well, no matter. The chambermaid, boots
and hall porter received a double fee, for it's "surely going to
clear," and we must go a-hunting to-day.

"Euston Station," shouted the hall porter to cabby and,
"look sharp to catch the six train for Leighton."

The fog seemed thicker and blacker than ever, but only
think if it should be clear at Leighton and we not there.

Arriving at Leighton, I found the Red Lion Inn, a hostelry
"for sportsmen designed." JNIadam Host was as full of go for
the occasion as a brass band. The breakfast was splendid and
although the fog had not lifted there were indications that it
was trying to do so.

INIany had come from London with their horses, a dozen or
more, wliich were brought along by the same train. These
especially designed cars for hunters, which are put on all the
regular trains the day of any meet with any pack of hounds
within twenty-five or thirty miles of London, are the best that
could be contrived for the purpose. They are set on the switch
at the station and the groom in charge looks after the horses
until they are wanted to ride to the meet, or perhaps they are
sent on at once and the rider follows in a public conveyance.
The train from the north brought in as many more riders and
hunters, and soon after breakfast, men and women in riding cos-
tume were all about the Red Lion Inn. Riders from a dis-
tance, say twelve to twenty miles, were riding up singly and
in pairs so as to give their mounts a taste before going on to the
meet.

The Landlady said she knew I was from America. She
said she had a brother there. Although I had not had the

A Dai/ Jf'ilh Lord liutJischild's Slar/hoinuh 18.5

pleasure of meeting her brother, she took me especially in hand.

"Is this your first visit to the Red Lion?"

"Indeed it is, but I am sure it will not be the last."

"No?"

"I have just had the best breakfast I ever had in England."

Then we fell into a bit of gossip concerning the interesting
people in the house and those arriving or passing the door.

"That's the Earl of Essex and his son, Lord :Malden,"
she volunteered as an elderly man and a youth rode up
together.

I^ady Lurgan was next pointed out as one of the best lady
riders in England. That's the Earl of Irchester, the Earl
of Clarendon, and I^ady Edith, his daughter.

That stout man is the Hon. Walter Rothschild, M. P., son
of Lord Rothschild. He rides sixteen stone (224 lbs).

Lady Lillian Crenfell and the Earl of Leitrim, Col. Wood-
house, Col. Rich and son, and Commander Rich were next
pointed out.

"The iwo young men who have just ridden up," said my
hostess, "are the sons of the Earl of Rosebcry, and the young
lady, Lady Sj-bil Primrose, their sister, etc. etc."

]Many other notable personages were pointed out to me by
^Ir. Taner who, when we were mounted, ])il()ted me to the
meet where he presented me to Mr. Leopold de Rothschild
and several others. I mention this only to show the courtesy
of an English nobleman to a man with no title save that of an
American farmer, who, as was well known to Lord Rothschild,
was in England on business working for his daily bread — his
passport being his fondness for a horse and a hound and his
love of the chase.

The meet was at Vicarage Farm. ^Vingrave, some three
or four miles from Leighton Buzzard, where we have already
taken the reader to visit the kennels and the house of INIr.
Leopold de Rothschild.

186 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Each cross road that we passed poured into the main road
its contribution of riders, so that before the meet was reached
the highway contained almost an unbroken procession. Occa-
sionally a youth, or light headed rider in a new hunting coat,
or a horse dealer who could not resist the opportunity to dis-
play himself or his horse, went galloping by on the side of the
road as though he had been thrown out of the run and was
making all speed to recover the hounds. There was a timid
city chappie on a nervous three-cornered rake of a thorough-
bred that the best architect or land surveyor could neither
design nor measure. A very uncomfortable partnership they
made for each other, but they afforded a lot of amusement for
the lookers-on. The horse, instead of going forward head first,
went drifting down the road sideways like a yacht that had
shpped her moorings and was going down river beam first,
sometimes stern first.

Now and again the horse would lower his head and throw
the rider — a tall, slim man — onto his neck, then he would
start straight ahead as if a flag had fallen before him, in any
direction he happened to be heading, when the spell struck liim.
Sometimes he headed down off the macadam as if he were
going to take the hedge. But instead he downed helm and
changed from the port to the starboard tack and so continued
until he finally fetched up on the opposite side of the road,
drifting, drifting, bolting ahead, coming in stays, and so on
from one side of the road to the other, greatly to the amuse-
ment of small boys and farm lads, who offered suggestions as
the pair drifted past.

"Your 'orse is giving you lots of ride for your money,"
volunteered one farm hand over the fence.

Said another farm hand to liis companion: "I say, Bill, I
say. Bill, there goes a 'orse what 'ad "is 'ead put on where his
tail oughter be. 'E's built to go tother end to."

"No, liit's cause the rider is cross-eyed and 'e can't no

A Day With Lord Rothschild's Staghoiinds 187

more go the way 'e's looking than 'e can look the way 'e's
going. 'E oughter wear blinkers."

"Bill, you are wrong again. Hit's my opinion as 'tis only
an oat as is pricking 'im. 'E'll straighten out when it gets
past the tickling spot."

Here we are at the meet, a typical English cross roads
where there is a big sign on a very small inn under a thick
straw roof. It stood facing the village green and was called
"The Golden Fleece." A private house on the other side of
the green does duty as a store, post and telegraph office. A few
other thatched cottages, covered with English ivy, squatted
low on the ground, behind neatly trimmed hedge enclosures,
their front yard filled with ornamental shrubs, flowers and
roses. In the centre of the green is the public duck pond, the
green itself being a pasture of the fowls, a playground for the
neighbouring children, a whittling place for the village talent
and a lounging place for any one so disposed.

Just back of all tliis, but hidden by a high hedge, shrubs
and tree border, is the Rectory, Avliich is better seen from a
little way down the road where the snug httle Rectory Lodge
makes a break in the hedge. There you may look down the
beautiful circling drive and across a meadow to the Rectory
itself which, although more than half hidden by vines and
shrubbery, looks ideal. On the o])posite side of the road, back
from the liighway in a meadow of great spreading oaks, stands
the "Hall," the home of the village Scpiire. a man who. if his
temperament suits and it usually does in England, lives the
ideal life, — a few hunters to ride, a few horses to drive, a game
preserve on his own land, a shooting box in Scotland and a
yacht on the Solent. He owns a thousand broad acres where
he and his tenants breed pure bred stock wliich ynn honours
at the fair in competition with her INIajesty the Queen, and
his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.

The squire is an old man now, judging by his white hair

188 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

and portly build; but he is at the meet on a trusty Norfolk
cob which looked as if it could carry a ton. While he may not
cut it down across country with the younger bloods, he will see
quite as much of the fun, for he knows every lane and gate
in all the country round. It is liis own land the hunt is to ride
over. His sons are out on hunters of liis own breeding. His
granddaughter is by Iiis side sitting astride on a little Welsh
cob which will carry her to perfection and, as you can easily
imagine, greatly to her grandsire's dehght.

What a crowd there was! Something over a hundred
mounted riders assembled at this meet, wliich is a hundred
short of the usual attendance at the spring meet or when the
fixture is at Ascot or at Tring Park, the home of Lord Roths-
child.

Here come the hounds, headed by the huntsman, and the
whipper-in, followed by a score or more of riders who
have purposely lingered to keep them company. If the hounds
looked a grand lot at the kennels, what shall we say of them
now, this twenty odd couple of dog hounds selected with care
as to size and markings? As they come trotting on to the
village green beside the superbly mounted horseman and wliip-
per-in in their pink hunting coats, white breeches and black
velvet caps, the crowd receive them with a cheer. At this
moment Mr. Leopold de Rothscliild drives up with the other
members of his family.

By the time they have answered the salutations of their
friends, and a few strangers and out of town visitors have
been introduced, their mounts are led up, their over-
coats are dropj^ed off and in a moment more they are in the
saddle.

The most noted, if not the most interesting personage is
yet to arrive. We have not long to wait.

"The stag! The stag! Here comes the stag." Again the
crowd on the green parts like the waters of the Red Sea to

JOHN BOORE, HUNTSMAN

A Ddij With Lord liothschild'a Stmjiioiinds 189

receive Pharaoh's chariot, and likewise closes ii])oii it when it
enters the crowded green.

Lord Rothschild, who, with his hrother, headed the proces-
sion, was followed bj' the riders and the crated stag. We all
moved on to witness the "enlargement," as the liberation of the
stag is called. This took place a mile or more from the meet.
The hounds, however, remained at the Village to allow twenty
minutes or half an hour "law" to the stag before they were put
upon his trail.

Finally, after entering a most beautiful field with great
rolling meadows, a wide expanse of the richest and most beauti-
ful agricultural district came into view. The crated stag was
halted near the gate in the field. The door was thrown open and
out stepped his highness. Then as the crowd of spectators gave
a cheer, he crouched for a mighty spring that sent him liigh in
the air. Thus, in a succession of bounds, he circled the field,
returning to witliin a hundred feet or so of the van. He then
jumped the hedge, almost in the presence of the crowd, wdiose
renewed cheering sent him across the field to the right, giving
us all a splendid chance to view him as he raced away over the
crest of a distant hill to disappear in a clump of timber.

After allowing twenty minutes "law," as above recorded
the huntsman and whii)])ers-in came smartly on with the pack.
The moment the hounds began to feel the line away went their
tongues in one grand chorus and the chase began.

It was a glorious sight, hounds, horses, men. One and all
race aAvay down the vale, across the great fields, up the slope,
over ditches, hedges and timber into the wood, where the stag
was seen to disappear. That first twenty minutes, what a
thrilling ride! It was such a twenty minutes as comes only
now and then to those who frequent hunting fields. Those
beautiful fields, that wonderful turf and the hedges, how they
flew past and under us, they seemed to be coming at us like
driftwood racing down a mighty stream.

190 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

"No ships with wind and tide.
And all their canvas wings.
Scud half so fast."

We gain the hill, pass the wood and away again, crossing
another vale. The blood of my Irish mount is up and go he
will. The stag had taken to water in a small pond in front
of some gentleman's home. It was a bad move, for now the
hounds were upon him and raced him from scent to view,
back through the httle village of the meet. Finally they
brought him to bay, in the outer entry of a httle chapel in an
adjoining town. Facing the hounds, he stood them at bay. He
was soon secured and we all went back to our hotel at Leighton
Buzzard, where one of the best of dinners was served alike to
Earls and farmers, Dukes and traders.

"The huntsman knows him by a thousand marks,
Black and embossed; nor arc his hounds deceived;
Too tcell distinguish these, and never leave
Their once-devoted foe; familiar grows
His scent and strong their appetite to overtake."

Somervile.

XVII

THE CHASE OF THE WILD RED DEER IN
DEVONSHIRE

THE DEVON AND SOMERSET STAGHOUNDS — LORNA DOONE^S COUN-
TRY THE QUANTOCK HILLS THE MEET ANTHONY HUX-

TABLE — THE TUFTERS — THE CHASE — TAKING THE DEER^.
A LONG RIDE HOME.

"VIZHILE in England in the winter of 1898, I received a
letter from ]Mr. Alfred Skinner of Bishop's Lydard,
Devonshire, inviting me to visit him and have a day with the
Devon and Somerset staghounds, then hunting three days a
week in the Quantock Hills, near ]Mr. Skinner's farm.

As tliis was not my first visit to the famous Devonshire
country nor my first day with the Devon and Somerset stag-
hounds, I knew something of what was in store for me: I was
not long in deciding to test once more the hospitality of "Pond
Farm," wliich, you must know, is of the genuine Devonshire
sort, with Devonsliire cream and Devonshire cider, to say noth-
ing of the gooseberry tarts, etc. Added to this was my very
vivid recollection of one of the grandest day's sport I had
ever experienced with hounds; this was in '93. How many,
many times had I lived over that memorable run! I had but

192 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

lately finished reading that fascinating novel, "Lorna Doone" ;
and to find myself riding to the "meet" in that famous "Doone"
country, amid just such surroundings as the author had
described, was a double pleasure and made the novel doubly
real. I recalled also, with much pleasure, the breedy little
roan mare that JNIr. Sldnner had secured for my mount; and
how the hunted deer led us a steeplechase pace down one hill
and up another, down again, and through farm after farm,
over ditches and fences, some of which were big sod fences
where a horse jumps to the top, balances there for a moment
with all four feet in a bunch, and then jumps down on the
other side. Often there is a ditch on the opposite side, some-
times on both: sometimes the fence looks low on the "take off"
side but you find, after it is too late to change your mind, that it
is five feet or more from the top of the fence to the landing
on the other side. Then, seated on a horse that is balancing
himself on the top of such a jump, it seems a terrible distance
to the ground. There is notliing to do but put youi- trust in
your mount, and take the drop as best you can.

I also recall there were nearly a hundred mounted riders
that day, -with a good sprinkling of ladies, and that it took
a good deal of hard riding to keep some of our fair com-
panions in sight, when liind and hound were racing out of
view. I remember how, for one hour and twenty minutes,
the deer set such a pace that fully half the field were left hope-
lessly beliind in the first half of the run; and how she finally
took to the sea, and after swimming out for a mile or more,
returned to be taken on the rocky north shore of the British
Channel, twelve or fifteen miles from where the pack first
"laid on." Then the Master, Mr. Bisset, kindly presented
me with one of the hind's feet, which I had mounted as a match-
box; and a month or so after my return to America, I had
the pleasure of receiving the pelt of the deer, with the same
gentleman's compliments. It is needless to say that, with

The Chase of the Wild Red Deer in Devonshire 193

such recollections as these, I was on the best of terms with
mj'self for the avIioIc week between receiving Mr. Skinner's
letter and my hui(liii<^' at Bishop's Lychird.

The meet was at "Triscombe Stone," near the summit of
one of the loftiest peaks of the Quantock range, and about
seven miles from Mr. Sldnner's house. We were joined on
the way by gentlemen and ladies until, by the time we
reached the foot-hills, we formed quite a cavalcade. It was
very pleasing to see among them some old — I should say
elderly — gentlemen; for one can hardly call a man of sixty or
even seventy years of age, old, when one sees him mounted
and bound for a hard day's ride over some of the roughest
hunting country in England. These men are not old, and as
long as they can sit on a horse and ride to hounds, they will
outride death, and be, as we saw them, young at seventy.
There were ladies also whose hair was beautifully sprinkled
with grey, whose foreheads were scarred and furrowed by
time, but they had become young again, as you could see by
their faces, on which a smile was so near the surface that it
appeared, if you addressed them wth the most ordinary
remark. There is certainly nothing in the world like hunting
to turn backwards the hands on the dial of time! Nothing like
a hard day's gallop to hounds to cheat the family physician
out of his living and to put off the undertaker's approaching
account. There were farmers on rough and unkempt horses
which had rested from the furrow yesterday that the master
might "go a-hunting to-day." Beside them rode lords and
ladies, squires and gentlemen, their mounts, like themselves,
well groomed, showing their "quality" in good blood and good
breeding. There were also a good number of farmers' sons
mounted on "green ones" that morning "caught up" from the
fields. Their rusty saddle-irons and cnbliled bridles made them
a great contrast to some London swell on his five hundred
guinea hunter, with a liveried groom in attendance, both dressed

194 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

after the latest hunting fashion-plate. They made two of a
kind, the farmer's son and the swell, in that they were both
equally anxious to display themselves. It was not difficult,
however, to see that the farmer's son was enjoying it all far
the better of the two. Then there was pointed out to me the
town magistrate, who was never known to want an excuse to
adjourn court when the Devon and Somerset staghounds were
hunting the Quantocks; and there was also a physician who
had driven to the meet, making a few hurried calls on the way.
At the meet he exchanged liis carriage for a hunter and away
he rode, leaving his patients who did not happen to "live on the
way" to die, or get well as best they could without liim, for as
the old song says, "he must go a-hunting to-day!"

There was also the clergyman in his clerical dress, the
"sporting parson," as he is familiarly called — more by way of
compUment than otherwise. Few, I imagine, find more
pleasure in hunting than he; for next to the Master and the
huntsman, he is the most welcome member of the hunt. He
knows everyone and everyone knows him, and everyone loves
him, especially if (as is invariably the case) he is a "good sport,"
rides well and rides straight. Even if you do not know liim,
you must love him. The sight of him in his clerical suit,
seated on a well appointed hunter, makes you feel that he is
your fellow man, capable of enjoying what you enjoy, and of
being tempted as you are tempted; tliis draws you towards
him, for you feel that he is better fitted thereby to intercede
for your own shortcomings. It is a pleasure to see him riding
about among friends and neighbours, seated on his trusty
hunter, the present probably of Lord So-and-so, who admires
his style of riding to hounds, if he does not patronise liis ser-
mons, and who for the same reason contributes hberally to the
church subscriptions.

Long Uve the "sporting parson" to show us the way across
the fields when hounds run fastest, and across Jordan as well

The Cha.sc of the Wild lied Deer in Devonshire 195

when the way looks hopeless! Of course, in America no one
would tliink of applying the epithet "good sport" to a minister
of the gospel, by way of praise. But in England the term
seems to have a different meaning from that given it by us.
There it is generally a])i)lied to one who is, as we say, "fair
and square," who plays fair, whether at cricket or in business;
stands by a bad bargain, though the law might release him;
one who hves up to the golden rule. In short, who is, in the
best sense of the word, a gentleman.

Others drove to the meet in coaches, with powdered foot-
men, while smartly dressed servants brought up a brace of
hunters; others came in farm carts, butchers' wagons and traps
of all sorts — to say nothing of the pedestrians, clad in all styles,
from homespun to the latest Paris wrinkle in hat and frock,
all making a pilgrimage to "Triscombe stone" to pay their
respects to, if not to worshij), the goddess Diana, who nowhere,
I believe, finds more devoted followers than when she sets up
her shrine in the Quantocks. What a grand procession they
made, struggling along uj) the steep hill! Among the throng
was a single Yankee who, from his desire to keep shaking
hands with himself over his good fortune at being present,
you could see with half an eye was having the best time of
all.

Arriving at the meet, we rode up to inspect the hounds —
twenty-two and a half cou])le, all over twenty-three inches tall
and with untarnished pedigrees, traceable, it is said, for several
hundred years. They are, without question, the most noted
pack of staghounds in England, and the only pack in England
"ridden to" in the chase of the wild red deer.*

The huntsman, ]\Ir. Anthony Huxtable, is probably the
most celebrated huntsman in Great Britain to-day. Punc-

*Since tlie above was written, the deer in Devon and Somerset have
increased to such numbers that the country has been divided and is now-
being hunted by two other packs of staghounds.

196 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

tually to the minute, at 11 a. m., the Master rides up. He has
a word with Anthony, then after allowing five minutes' grace
for late-comers, he gives the signal to kennel the pack. This
Anthony does in an old barn near at hand, at the same time
drafting from the pack six of the most obedient hounds, with
which he returns to the place of meeting. The Master then
sounds the horn for "going to covert" and we all move on at a
smart trot, headed by Anthony and the three couple of hounds.
These selected hounds are called "tufters." The reason for
taking only a few hounds to draw a covert is that the deer are
so numerous that the whole pack would be uncontrollable,
especially as it is only the hinds they wish to chase at this time
of the year (spring), while in the autumn only the stags are
hunted.

The tops of the Quantock Hills are bald of timber, but
completely covered with heather — a bush groAving from fifteen
to twenty inches high. There are, however, numerous wooded
ravines leading up the sides of the hills from dense forests. It
is near the top of these ravines that the deer are at this time of
day expected to be found. After riding along on the crest of
the hills for half a mile or more, Anthony turns sharply to the
left, and alone with the tufters canters down the side of the
liill, and presently enters one of these wooded ravines; then
he comes back up the ravine, so as to make the deer "break
covert" over the top of the hills. All the riders and pedestrians,
who have come along to see the sport, wait on the summit of
the hill in the opening.

Five minutes later, out of the top of the ravine, into wliich
Anthony has cast the tufters, there come bounding over the
heather eight beautiful deer, three stags and five hinds, all in
full view; in fact, some of the startled creatures find them-
selves right among the riders and spectators. Hard after
them come the tufters, and Anthony with them. Quickly he
notes the course the largest hind is taking, and decides on

The Chase of the Wild lied Deer in Devonshire 197

her for the chase. In the meantime, of course, the hounds are
separated, for there is more than a deer for each; hut a blast
from Anthony's hunting horn, emi)hasised by a crack of his
hunting crop, calls them to his side, when he quickly "lifts
them" on to the line of the deer he has marked for the chase.

Away goes Anthony as if shot from a gun, while we rush
along at the top of our horses' speed only to see him vanish from
sight a half mile down the other side of the hill towards the
bottom land. The ^Master and riders remain waiting on top of
the hill. Half an hour passes, then some one shouts, "There he
is!" and turning, we see the indomitable Anthony standing in
the heather on the brow of a distant hill — the six tufters by his
side — and signalling us to come on. The INIaster hurries away
to unkennel the pack and bring them on, while the restless
riders rush headlong down the hill, through the heather, where,
if their mounts should stumble or catch a foot in some of the
numerous rabl)it burrows, there would be in all probability a
broken leg for the horse and a broken neck for the rider.
Do^\'n tliis hill, up a steep ra\'ine, down again, up another
hill and we arrive where xVnthony awaits us. Soon the INIaster
and the whippers-in with the pack, join us. ^Vnthony now
leads the way to the bottom lands, where he had followed the
deer to make sure she had well broken covert.

As soon as he leads the pack across the line and the hounds
catch the scent, they give tongue to it in a beautiful chorus as
they crowd on the line and race away at the top of their speed.
"Tally ho! Tally ho! Gone away! Gone away!" shouts
Anthony, while the INIaster sounds the good news from his
horn, and before we know what has happened, the chase is on.
Our horses, which we have been saving as much as jjossible
(greatly to their disgust), are now given free rein, and the
way they lay foot to the sod over the first few meadows will
never be forgotten. Arriving at a small stream, the hounds
throw up their heads, their music ceases, and we are at the

198 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

first check. The deer, true to her instinct, has taken to water
to elude her pursuers. The stream is about ten to twelve
feet wide and four to six inches deep.

Now comes Antliony's opportunity to display his wood-
craft. Which way has the deer gone? Up stream or down?
Noting the direction of the wind, he instantly decides on going
down stream; and keeping in the stream we follow along.
Both banks are eagerly watched for foot-prints.

The hounds, meanwhile, are splashing listlessly along beside
Anthony's horse. On they go for a few hundred yards, when
suddenly one of the hounds stops, and rushes to the left bank.
His hackles are on end and he begins to "feather." Others
join liim. Anthony halts; no tracks; can it be possible that
the deer could have gone out there? The hounds seem to
think so, but the bank is perpendicular and a good five feet
liigh, with a thick thorn hedge as much higher growing on the
very edge of it. Do the hounds mean to say that even a deer
can from a standing jump clear that bank and hedge? Still
Anthony waits. Then come a few faint whimpers as if the
hounds could almost make it out. Still they are not quite
sure. Then Anthony decides that they are right and cheers
them on. One hound, in attempting to jump up the bank and
crawl through the bottom of the hedge, gets a whiff of the
scent from the field on the other side and gives tongue to it,
even as he falls backward into the water. Tliis settles the
question ; and Anthony, with cap in hand, leans over his horse's
withers, cheering on the hounds with "Speak to it. Sampson!
On to it, Bluver! Up, Sleepless, up, good hound!"

Sleepless is the first to make the bank, which is by this time
so broken away that she is able to make good her footing, and
away she goes, racing across the field, giving tongue at every
stride. The other hounds become desperate at this. Again
Anthony cheers them on with "Hark to Sleepless! Hark to
Sleepless! On Challenger! Up Vixen!" until with charging

The Chase uf the Wild Red Deer in Devonshire 199

and falling back, and charging again, a footing is made, and
all have gone streaming away in the field, which is hidden from
our view by the hedge. The riders are all held back until the
last hound has successfully cleared the bank, and then we
rush on to where the highway crosses the stream. Following
the road, we come in view of the field, with the forty-five
hounds scattered all over it. They needed Anthony to help
them puzzle it out. The trouble is, the deer has evidently
doubled her tracks, and possibly redoubled them; hence the
confusion: but Anthony riding into the field brings order out
of chaos, and lifting the hounds smartly forward, they soon hit
off the same line again; and we enjoy a glorious gallop through
some beautiful pastures to another check.

Here we see the hounds doing some beautiful work; their
blood is up, but they have overrun the line. Anthony calls
them to "hark back." They pick up the trail where it turned
sharply to the left, and away they go through a hedge. It is
impossible for horses to follow, and the hounds rush away with
a chorus of voices that makes our hearts ache. Perhaps it is
the last we shall see of the pack to-day! We follow the know-
ing one in a race for the gate leading into the highway, in the
direction opposite the way the hounds are running. Those
forty rods to the gate! It seemed as if our horses, going at the
top of their speed, would never reach there. There is a small
boy right at the gate, and he opens it in time — may his sins
to this hour be forgiven!

Down the highway we gallop for half a mile ; then stop and
listen. "They are still running on," says one; "we shall see
them no more to-day." "No, they are coming this way!" cries
another. "What shall we do? Where shall we go?" Such
are the questions and thoughts running through everyone's
mind. The old hunting rule, "When you don't know where
to go, stand still," is all that seems to save us from going mad.
Suddenly the hounds appear from behind a field of timber

200 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

that has hitherto hidden them from our view, their voices
coming to us faintly now and then, keeping us between
hope and despair. We see they are racing away in a
circle that is bringing them our way. We rush along to inter-
cept them. They halt, turn sharply to the right, and are
coming straight for the liighway where we stand. On and on
we go for the next thirty minutes, till the hounds throw their
heads in a farmyard; and a most welcome check it is. "Seven
miles from the last check and covered in thirty-three minutes,"
says some one, consulting his watch. But while we are about
to dismount for a breathing spell, the hounds break away at a
rattling pace for another five minutes. It seems as if every
field must be the last, and that the hounds must be on the very
heels of their prey. Check again! It does not seem possible
that many more such spurts can be left in deer, hound, horse,
or man. The deer is evidently maldng for the sea, but until
this check it seemed as if she could never hold the pace to reach
there.

While waiting in the liighway, beyond a farmhouse, the
hounds pick up the trail again, and come across the road in
front of us "full cry." It seems impossible that the deer could
have taken that line, but so it must have been. Where the
hounds came through the bottom of the hedge, the bank is
fully eight feet high; on the top of this bank is a stiff hedge
twelve to fifteen feet high. That a deer could jump the hedge
from the field side, we have no doubt, but think of the drop on
the landing side, and of landing in the middle of a macadamised
road! One would think the slender legs of the deer could
never withstand such a shock; but they have withstood it, for
the hounds are running again, not to the sea, as we expected,
but to the right, following the coast, two or three fields back
from the beach. On she goes for another eight miles, almost
straight away over beautiful level grass lands. At last the
hounds are but a field behind their game, and the riders —

The Cha.se of the Wild lied Deer in Devonshire 201

what is left of them — but a field behind the hounds and in
full view of the deer. The deer is running slower and is
apparently almost exhausted. The hounds also are slackening
their pace, while there is nothing left of the horses, save their
breeding. They stagger on, however, but are no longer able to
answer to whip or spur.

One more field! It looks as if the hounds would overtake
their deer in the next field. The foremost hounds are scarcely
a rod from their prize. Anthony is right after them, cheer-
ing them on to the last mighty effort. Can the hind reach the
river bank? Yes! With Anthony's favourite hound, Sleej)less,
right at her heels, she leaps into the river twenty feet below,
and swims for the opposite bank. The hounds attempt to
follow, but Anthony calls them back.

Taldng a fisherman's row boat Anthony with the "whipper-
in" and three hounds, rowed across the river. The steep,
muddy sandbanks being impassable, the deer, seeing them
coming, takes to the water again. The boat, however, soon
overtakes her, and a rope is thrown over tlie head of the deer,
which keeps on swimming, towing the boat along with her.
They pull the boat alongside, and Anthony blindfolds the
deer with his handkerchief. The three men now tij) the boat
to one side, and all taking hold of the deer lift her as high as
possible, bringing her sides well up against the gunwale of the
boat; then, rocking the boat back, at the same time lifting the
deer, they land her on her back in the boat; next they tie her
legs and bring her ashore, where she is despatchd with a hunt-
ing knife; the "pluck" given to the hounds, and the feet ampu-
tated at the fetlock joint and given to whomsoever the Master
wishes to honour. The carcass is given to a butcher or some
one who is directed ])y the Master to distribute it among the
farmers over whose land the chase has gone. The head, how-
ever, is presented to the writer, who has it mounted and now
admires it on the wall facing his writing desk. It was the end

202 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

of the spring season and this was deer number one hundred and
one taken since the previous autumn.

The time occupied by the run after laying on the pack was
two hours and forty minutes. It was four-thirty when we
started for Mr. Skinner's, twenty miles away. We arrived
there at nine o'clock. We had been in the saddle eleven and
one-half hours (less the time spent while Anthony was taking
the hind from the water) and had covered fully fifty miles
without a mouthful to eat for man or mount. The grey could
only walk for the last three miles. The rider was able to get
into the house, but there was not enough left in him to pull
off his own boots. But a bucket of hot oat-meal gruel for
the horse, a hot bath and Mrs. Skinner's softest feather bed
for the rider, brought both out the next morning none the
worse, I beheve, for as glorious a day's sport as ever was
enjoyed in the hunting field.

To W. Phillpotts Williams, Esq.,

Master of the Melton Harriers.

"The puzzling pack unravel wile by ivile,
Maze rcithin vinze, the Covert's utmost hounds.
Slijly she skirts behind, then cautious creeps,
yind in that vcrji track so latel// stained
By all the steaming crowd, seems to pursue
The foe she jlics."

Somervile.

XVIII

THE CHASE OF THE HARE

THE HARE — THE OLD AND THE NEW SCHOOL METHODS — LONG
LIVE THE CHASE — FOOT HARRIERS.

■p ERHAPS the best way to introduce the subject of Hare
■■• Hunting- is first to introduce the hare. There is a saying
among hare hunting men at the present time, wliich was cen-
turies old when the morning stars sang together, "Find your
hare before you catch liim." In respect, therefore, to tliis
time-honoured maxim, if for no other reason, we had better
see our hare before we proceed to hunt him.

As before stated, the hare differs from the rabbit, which he
greatly resembles, in being larger and faster. Rabbits burrow
in the ground, where they go to hide, sleep, and bring forth
their young. The hare, on the contrar>% does not burrow,
never goes to earth, and hides and sleeps in the open fields.
Their food, habits, and way of running are quite the same.

The hare is born with a coat of fur, and eyes open. The

204 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

rabbit comes into the world naked and blind, a provision of
nature that best adapts each to the different conditions under
wliich it is born. If the rabbit could see at birth, it would
wander from home before it was able to protect itself by flight
from its hosts of enemies. The hare, on the contrary, being
born in the open would alike fall an easy prey to its enemies
if it made a move in their presence. They breed two or three
times a year between April and August, and produce from
two to four "larvet" at a time. They feed at evening and in
the early morning, wliile during the day they he flattened out
in their "seal" or "form" in the open field, rather than in a
hedgerow or brush-heap, where without a burrow they would
easily be tracked and overtaken by foxes, weasels, skunks, etc.,
who seek their prey in hidden and secluded spots. Like the
thieves that they are, foxes and the like have no taste for
exposing themselves by travelling through open fields. Experi-
ence therefore has taught the hare that his safety lies in sleep-
ing for the day in the open fields where his body is most
exposed. A wise pro\asion of nature, however, comes to his
rescue, by giving him a reddish brown coat that seems to
blend so well with every colour of the field as to nearly defy
detection even when one's eyes are resting upon him. "Find
your hare before you catch him" has a far wider meaning than
one might suppose.

The ability of some persons to locate a hare is either a
gift or the cultivation of sight, or possibly the development
of the real hunting instinct such as our forefathers possessed,
and which we still find so highly developed in our native
trappers and in Indians who are born to and live by the chase.

Anyone, therefore, who is good at finding hares is a most
welcome attache to any hare hunting organisation. Such a
one is scarce, even in England, where hunting the hare is in
general practice, and he is in great demand. Frightening up
a hare by walking upon her is not finding her.

The Chase of the Hare 205

The writer prides himself somewhat on having a fairly-
good eye for game in the forest, but he has never yet been
able to find a hare, although he has hunted them often, both
with hounds and gun.

It makes one feel chagrined to have some friend point one
out just where you have been looking, or as usual, tell you
where to look without pointing, and to see there, within a few
paces, in full vieAv, the object you seek. There she hes— every
hair lying so snu» and close that not one is moved by a passing
breeze, not a wink of the eye or a turn of the head or the lifting
of an eyebrow. As you study the object for a momcjit, the
deception its colour practises on the eyesight disappears, and
you wonder why you did not see her before. Your retriever
has gone carefully over the ground, and he with all his
keener sense of nose and sight also failed to see what in all
probability he had been looking at. Presently she bounds
away, and you must be smart even then with your gun, or
your game keeps on running.

It is probably much more to your credit to find your hare
than it is to stop him with your gun when lie is found.

The care a hare takes in coming up to its "form" or place
selected for the day's resting place (which form we are told
is seldom occupied for more than two or three days in suc-
cession) is most ingenious. Instead of coming straight up
to it, they begin to circle and double back on their trail, so
as to make confusion worse confounded to an enemj'^ attempt-
ing to follow them by scent. Then they will halt and give a tre-
mendous spring to the right or left, so that to their pursuers
their line comes to an abrupt ending; and so on by a succession
of leaps until they finally land in the chosen spot in an open
field, or at most in the shadow of a low growing shrub. They
are said to sleep with their eyes open, but while you can nearly
step on them before they vnW expose themselves by moving,
when they do flee from their form, they go at a rate of speed that

206 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

only the fastest greyhounds can approach. They can probably
run two rods to a rabbit's one. Comparing the English hare
to the Jack rabbit of the western plains, it is hardly too much
to say that the latter is as much faster than the Enghsh hare
as the hare is faster than the ordinary rabbit.

Crafty and evasive as hares are in coming to their form, the
tricks they play on the hounds are the most interesting part of
the game. Brayden, in his delightful work "Hare Hunting
and Harriers," says "The maze they weave in foiling their hne
is something astonishing."

"True sport," says the same author, "consists in the meet-
ing of the hounds and the game hunted on nature's own terms
in a free field, with no favours." A better definition of true
sport never was given.

The Avriter is particularly indebted to that Sportsman
Poet, ]Mr. Phillpotts '^Vilhams, former Master of the Melton
Harriers, for several "glorious days" as well as much valuable
information in regard to the chase of the hare.

All hare hunting men, as we said in the chapter on Jack
rabbit hunting on the plains, point with pride to ancient liistory
dating from three hundred and fifty to one thousand years
B. C, to prove the remote date, if not the beginning, of hare
hunting.

Coursing men go to the same goal in the ancient records
for the starting point of their favourite sport.

Hare hunting in England goes back to an early period of
Enghsh history — to Edward III, Queen Ehzabeth, James I,
and so on down to the present time.

Fox hunting is only a modern game in England as com-
pared with hunting the hare. Fox hunting was not known, in
its present form at least, until the beginning of the eighteenth
century, when scarcity of deer, wolf, and wild boar, caused
the chase-loving Briton to turn his attention to the fox.
Although previously looked upon as vermin, to be killed in

The Chase of the Ilarc 207

any and every form, the fox proved, however, to show such
good sport, that, for the tmie at least, it quite turned the heads
of all the followers of the chase. Hare hunting was severely
affected hy this invasion, which swept the country after the
fashion of all new brooms.

Hare hunting, however, had been in existence too long to
give way entirely to the new order of things. It has not only
survived, but comes up with a stronger army of supporters
at the present time than it had even in its most palmy days.
There is more dash and drive and hard riding to foxhounds.
But the sportsman whose hunting instincts outweigh his taste
for fast riding, enjoys best of all to see a hard working, melo-
dious pack of harriers ciphering on a problem that is as frac-
tions to addition, compared with the task that Reynard puts
up as a puzzle to foxhounds.

Hare hunting in England may be said to be conducted by
two different schools.

First, the "old school" practitioners who seek to preserve
the more ancient customs and traditions of hare hunting, and
stick to the so-called "pure-bred English harriers," a rather
slow and laborious hound with a splendid nose, a free tongue,
and a most melodious voice. ( I beheve this hound was origin-
ally a cross-bred animal between the Southern hound and the
beagle, the Southern hound liimself being an extraction of the
bloodhound.) Harriers hunt up to their game in a methodical
and workmanlike manner. If they account for one, or at the
most, two hares for a day's sport, it is all that is required.

The old school followers of the chase of puss say that to
kill a hare in less than about an hour is taking undue advan-
tage, and a pack of hounds that does this should be reduced
in size. The old English harrier, therefore, is greatly in favour
with this school, which claims that the true gosjjcl of hare hunt-
ing is to enable the game to work all her shifts and arts at dodg-
ing and circling and doubling. These hounds are from twelve

208 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

to fifteen inches — larger or smaller — according to the country
to be hunted over; the speed of the hounds depending some-
what on their size. Fifteen or even eighteen inch harriers
might be no faster in a country where there was much land
under cultivation than twelve inch harriers in a level pasture
and meadow country.

The hounds of the new school are much faster. They are
mostly cross-bred dogs between harriers and foxhounds, where-
in the harrier blood is retained for its more melodious voice
and freedom of tongue, while the foxhound blood is looked to
for greater pace. These hounds range from fifteen to sixteen
inches.

Then again there is what might be called the High Church
branch of the new school, where the hounds are out and
out pure-bred foxhounds — undersized drafts from foxhound
packs. These hounds being so much faster than the old
Enghsh harriers, put their game to flight, and as the old school
hunters say, race her to death in a run of fifteen to twenty
minutes without giving her a chance to practise her arts of
self-preservation. Then they go on killing as many more as
they can in a day. This the old school denounces as taking
an undue advantage of puss, and can not be looked upon as
thoroughly sportsmanlike. Hounds for tliis class of hunting
we believe are from eighteen to twenty-two inches.

It has been the writer's good fortune to study the game
from the standpoint of both the old school and the new, and
he unhesitatingly casts his lot A\ith the former. Although
no one enjoys a smart gallop cross country better, he loves
best of all the hunting part of the game.

To sit a nicely mannered horse, or stout pony with a bit of
a gallop in him, with a fcAV jumps to negotiate now and again,
to keep in the same field A\nth the chase and to watch both the
pursued and the pursuers, to be in possession of the tricks puss
is plaj-ing on the hounds, and the secret of her liiding place, to

The Chase of the Hare 209

watch the hounds unravel her hne, see them outgenerallcd here
and fooled there, as tiie artl'ul <^ame intended they should be —
is, to the writer's mind, one of the most faseinating games that
can possibly be seen in any form of the chase against any
animal that lives.

Game and hound meet on fair and equal terms, for in the
old school practice, no one thinks of giving away the secrets
of puss to the hounds, but leaves them quite to themselves as
long as they Mill hunt. Lifting hounds to a view may be jus-
tified towards the end of a long day with foot beagles or foot
harriers.

To lift hounds on, and keep racing a hare until overtaken
by speed, seems to the writer to be neither hunting nor cours-
ing, but a cross-bred or mongrel sport between the two.

Of course, with the old school there is not much chance of
a gallop of any length, for the constant circling and doubling
of the hare often brings the game to an end in the same field
where it began; so that a man on a stout cob that can go a
good pace, is able to see much more of the game than the
best mounted rider to foxhounds. The writer by no means
wishes to impeach from the list of true sportsmen all hare
hunters of the riding class. Their salvation comes not from
the methods they pursue so much as the results.

Fast harriers — hke fast foxhounds after fox — although they
often have a kill in fifteen or twenty minutes, lose so many
hares for the very reason they are so fast, that they cannot
be called butchers, as some are inclined to say they are. Never-
theless, racing a hare to death is not hunting. The writer
believes too much of the spirit of the chase is sacrificed in these
days to pace.

The object of the chase in these latter daj'S is not to kill
hares and foxes so much as it is to preserve the time honoured
customs and conditions of the chase as they have been handed
down to us from our forefathers. Its most laudable object is

210 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

to preserve untarnished the highest ideals of true sport and
sportsmansliip.

An advantage of hare hunting is that it is not nearly so
expensive a luxury as foxhunting, and is particularly enjoyable
for men past the prime of life, who no longer delight in the
more rigorous adventures of the chase of the fox. In other
words, it lets us down to our graves more gently, and is thus
well adapted to the latter stage of a sportsman's career in the
saddle.

"As a lad he hunts with foot beagles.

As a boy with otterhounds,

As a young man with the harriers.

Then to foxhunting he may turn in the days of his highest
ambition and bodily vigour.

Afterwards to enjoy the downward slope of life, still out-
riding death in the saddle, in the chase of the hare."

Long live the Chase!

There is another system of hare hunting, i. e., foot harriers
— which the High Churchmen, so to speak, of the old school,
claim is the only way to hunt a hare. Hounds for this pur-
pose are of course still smaller or at least slower than the old
English harriers. They are usually a cross between a harrier
and a beagle, from say fifteen to eighteen inches.

There are some popular packs of these foot harriers in Eng-
land. It is believed to be the most ancient form of the chase
of the hare. There are some very old packs of foot harriers,
especially in East Sussex, says H. A. Brayden, in his charm-
ing work, "Hare Hunting and Harriers."

"A man must be an exceedingly good pedestrian, and in
the very best of trim, to keep within hail of a pack of hounds
standing eighteen or nineteen inches in height, and blessed with
plenty of pace." He says the packs of foot harriers in Great
Britain "do not number more than a dozen."

The Chase of the Hare 211

"There are," says the same authority, "one hundred and
ninety-eight packs of harriers in the United Kingdom, some
fifty odd paclvs of foot beagles, which in round nuinl)crs make
about two hundred and fifty packs, mostly in England, besides
a large number of i)rivate packs which would probably swell
the number to three hundred or more."

It is not the purpose of these chapters to go into the scien-
tific part of hare hunting, nor to pursue the subject further
than might interest the general reader, and give an idea of the
character and status of the game, wliich «ill no doubt be of
interest to most American sportsmen.

The writer's wish to see the sport more generally ado})ted
in America leads him to devote another chapter to the subject,
especially hare hunting with foot beagles at school and col-
lege, which is the best way of all to bring up a boy in the way
he should go, to become a thorough sportsman.

"Happ^/ the mam who with unusual speed.
Can pass his feUotcs and tcitlt pleasure view
The sfruf/f/liiif/ pack: //oti' in the rapid course
Alternated then preside, and jostlij, push
To guide the dubious scent."

Somervile.

XIX

FOOT BEAGLES

SCHOOL AND COLLEGE FOOT BEAGLES — THE DELAPRE HALL
BEAGLES — A DAY WITH AN OXFORD COLLEGE '^'^CRY"" — COM-
PARISON OF ENGLISH AND AMERICAN COLLEGE SPORTS.

HUNTING the hare on foot with beagles has always been
in great favour in Great Britain. Beagle hounds are
generally admitted to be a very ancient race of dogs, wliich
the writer believes are of French origin.

The foot beagles of Great Britain are largely owned in
private packs and hunted as such, or in company with neigh-
bouring beagles brought together for a day's sport.

A pack or "Cry" of foot beagles is about the best school-
ing a boy can have as a primary training to the science of hunt-
ing with otter, fox or staghounds.

Many a keen sportsman of a father has a pack of beagles
for his sons and daughters to hunt with and he encourages
them in it from the time they can run about. Before that
they go out to see the fun from a baby carriage or in the arms
of a sturdy English nurse or governess.

There are also a few packs of Basset hounds there, that

Foot li eagles 213

are used in hunting the hare, l)ut they are not, as a rule, satis-
factory, being too slow.

The Messrs. Cooper Bros., of Dehipre Hall, Nottingham,
formerly had a pack of Basset hounds. The writer had a day's,
or rather part of a day's sport wth this silver-tongued pack;
they were very pretty and worked away on the line with great
spirit and drive. Slow as they were, they gave the writer liis
fill of it before the day was half over and settled his convic-
tions that he was no longer a boy, even if he did feel that way
when he started out with thirty-five or forty young men and
maidens for a daj^ wth these hounds.

JNIr. Cooper has since written to say he has "given up
Bassets and has now a fine pack of seventeen couple of thir-
teen and a half inch beagles, which are giving great sport."
The elder brother carries the horn wliile the two j'ounger
brothers are his whippers-in. These young men, with the
assistance of a servant, look after the kennel management of
their pack.

Although, as intimated above, the writer had arrived at
an age when following puss on foot is prohibited, he thinks
it glorious sport and one that ought to be encouraged in every
countr)' school or college, where there are hares within reach.

Some American schools and colleges have cross country
teams, but these are for amateur sprinters. Paper chases
have had a rage here and there and, in lieu of nothing better,
should be encouraged, but the principal element of success,
i. e., miflagging interest, which is wanting in these games, is
abundantly supplied when out with a real pack of beagles in
the chase of a real hare.

]Many of the schools of England, like Eton, and the col-
leges, as at Cambridge and Oxford, have packs of foot beagles.

In fact, there are three packs of foot beagles among the
colleges at Oxford, i. e., Christ Church, Exeter, New College
and Magdalene.

214 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

The writer not having had the personal experience, begs to
include a letter describing such a day's sport, which he received
from his son, who at the time was taking a post-graduate
course at Oxford and who, wliile there, hunted quite regularly
with the New College-Magdalene "Cry."

New College,
Oxford, England.
November, 1905.
My Deae Father:

You will certainly wish to know how we hunt
the hare at Oxford. I can explain by telling of a glorious run
to beagles we had this afternoon in the rolling country beyond
Cumnor Place. These November days have a fascination in
them that drives every undergraduate afield — some fellows
in rowing togs to the Isis, others to "footer" and "rugger,"
some few to hunting and various field sports, and still others
to beagling. A run in the open, over turf or through "plough",
over ditches or through hedge, on foot after beagles, although
not to be compared to a day's fox hunting in the dear old
Genesee Valley, gives the body new life and the mind real joy.

New College and Magdalene keep a pack of beagles
between them, which hunt the hare hereabouts on Wednesdays
and Saturdays throughout each term, while the Master himself
hunts the pack during the long "vac." at his home. The beagles
are kennelled just outside the City and are looked after by a
kennelman under the personal supervision of the INIaster.

This was my first day at beagling. The nearest I have come
to hunting since I came to Oxford is to take a few cracks out
of my hunting crop, occasionally, just before turning in.
This in hopes I may go on with the illusion in my dreams. So
far, I have cracked and coaxed in vain.

If I had a little more floor space and a bridle and a horn,
I would doubtless rig up a dummy horse and display a few

Foot Beagles 215

pillows about the floor for hounds and go galloping away over
hill and dale, tooting merrily and calling encouragement to
Bluebell, Barmaid and Dexter.

As it is, my scout winks and blinks as the lash goes indis-
criminately about for a crack. He looks with patient for-
bearance on my weakness, however, when I stand in the only
available space I have and cry, "Speak to it, Barmaid! on.
Workman, on, good dog." Crack! "Hark to Bluebell! hark
to Bluebell! Rouse him, my beauties!" Crack! "Away with
him, away with him!" etc.

But the chase. Of that you shall hear presently, for we
must first journey to the meet. With lunch scarcely over I
hurry into my knickers and rush down Holywell Street to
the corner of St. Catherine's I^ane and the Broad. The New
College brake had been awaiting two deliiKjuents besides my-
self and we three apj^earing had scarce time to clamber aboard,
before we were wheeling away, bound for the open country.
Aside from the fun of beagling, these country excursions are
a treat; for though the Cornwall coast has its peculiar charm
and the lake country its special attraction, yet the scenery
round about Oxford has no superior in all England. From
Magdalene College another brake has started bound for our
destination. Still another from New College has preceded us,
making three in all and about a dozen fellows to each. We are
surely a lot of light-hearted, light-headed, college fellows out
for a good time. A superannuated hedge cutter, moved by
some sympathetic impulse, waved his hat in salutation as we
clattered by. Children in legions scattered along our way,
catcliing the contagious spirit, ran with us shouting in wild
freedom till outdistanced. On we go, over the liill to Cumnor
Place, passing the church suggestive of Amy llobsart and
her churlish gaoler, Anthony Foster. Beyond Cumnor Place
the country side becomes more and more interesting.
An autumnal haze heightens the effect and gives to distance

216 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

an enchantment of its own. Occasionally we pass between
long rows of oaks, their branches interlocked above. On all
sides the fohage is beginning to colour and all about there is
a seeming preparation for winter. Pheasants, no longer able
to liide their tliieving in the corn, flj' up at our approach and
disappear in covert. Squirrels, nettled at our rapid pace, take
us on for a bit of a run from the tops of stone walls. From
the rumble of the wheels and the jingle of the harness, from the
clatter of the hoofs and the champing of the bits, comes the
rhythm of that good old hunting verse —

"We must all go a-hunting to-day."

Some six miles from Oxford we pull up before a village
imi — one of the real old-fashioned sort. A suave land-
lord, full fifteen stone in weight, extended liis hospitahty from
the tavern door. The beagle van had already arrived and the
INI aster was greeting each hound by name, as the kennelman
slipped them one by one to the ground. By this time the
Magdalene brake wheeled in upon us, wliich completed our
number. Then divesting ourselves of top coats and woollens,
we clambered down some thirty strong into a rabble of
beagles and curious townsfolk of all ages. Toot, toot from the
Master's horn, a hurried consultation with the innkeeper,
wherein he advises dra^^ing Squire Buffer's turnip field; more
tooting and hunting jargon, and we are off to catch a turnip
tliief if we can. Foremost walks the first wliipper-in, restrain-
ing with voice and hunting crop any beagle impatient to
begin hunting on his own account. Following the first whip-
per-in walks the Master surrounded by the pack or "cry",
then comes the second whipper-in, and lastly, plain followers
of the chase. Attached to this goodly company are some
truant schoolboys, the town cripple hobbling upon a crutch
and a wooden leg, and a good number of wives and maidens
with shawls over their heads ; some old men, probably poachers

Foot licaglcs 217

by profession, who would rather hunt than cat, fill u]) the
group that has assembled to see us off. ^lovin^- alon<r up the
lane leading to Stjuire Buffer's, we turn to the left upon a
grassy slope which drops gently away to a tributary of the
river Isis. The adjoining field to the right is the Squire's
turnip patch which we are to draw. This the jMaster proceeds
to do. We follow, keeping well to the rear, ready however,
to go away the instant puss is routed. When within some
thirty paces of the turnips, a young hare springs away to our
left down the slope. Toot, toot, from the jNIaster and twenty
silver-tongued beagles proclaim the good news for miles
around. We race away towards the stream. Puss Avill doubt-
less turn right or left to avoid the water. Not to the left, for a
country huxter is holding the road on that side; then let us
keep to the right and well to the rear for it is more likely he
will circle back toward the turnip field. This he did and was
soon lost to view among the turnips. What a treat it was to
watch the "Freshers". They have fairly gone the pace and
would outstrip the beagles themselves were it not for being
reproved by whippers-in, for in beagling, like hunting, some
run to beagle, while others beagle to run.

Puss had indeed played a trump card either from chance
or instinct for as the pack ran in among the remnants of a
turnip crop three splendid hares sprang away in opposite
directions. Halt! The INIaster knows his business full well.
Toot! toot! toot! The beagles whimper and coax to go on,
but the Master is stern, the whippers-in turn the leading
beagles smartly back and the whole procession comes to a
check. The ISIaster then lifts the pack to where the nearest
hare has spnmg away. The scent lies strong and beagles give
tongue to it in chorus. Off again, whither who knows! In
this uncertainty lies one of the charms of beagling. This hare
with a fling and bound scurries away down stream. He will
turn under half a mile, but which way? To the right is the

218 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

stream twisting on its way to the Isis, to the left is the lane
with hedge-fences and each hedge flanked by a ditch.

Those who fancy they know the game keep well up above
the pack, to the left along the lane, towards which the hare
is turning. Choosing this course, I had negotiated the
hedge into the lane and flung the last bit of mud from my
boots ; but in charging the hedge on the other side of the lane,
I found myself fast in the wire, which tore my coat and still
retains a patch of my knickers as a memento of the encounter.
jMeanwhile the hare has crossed the lane into a ploughed field
and is making back in a wide circle towards the turnip patch.
Beagles and wliippers-in were hard after and all coining my
way. At my sudden appearance in breaking loose from the
wire, the hare made a sharp turn, through the two hedge
fences enclosing the lane, and raced away towards the stream
below. Back I go through the lane hedges again. Puss sees
the error and makes another try for the tiu'nip field and might
have succeeded had not the intervening hedge suddenly
bristled vAih. belated beagles who had been checked by a bit
of wet ground. This was a facer, but Puss lost no time
in a council of war. Standing on my vantage ground I saw
him bound away down towards the stream. The water is cold,
swift and from bank to bank appears to be some twenty-five
feet in breadth. Surely the hare will not take to its icy cur-
rent. No, indeed, but he does a trick fully as courageous.
On he goes and in his splendid stride leaps the stream at a
bound, landing well over on the farther side. Well jumped,
my beauty! "Hold hard", cried some one, as a half dozen
"Freshers" break through the hedge with a rush.

"Hold hard, here come the hounds."

Sure enough, beagles. Master and whippers-in come to full
view, the beagles with noses to earth drive ahead with one strong
instinct speeding them on after the flying hare. The JNIaster
and wliij^pers-in racing after, like myself, cast about for a

Foot Beagles 219

bridge. The highway crosses the stream some three hundred
yards below. It is a long way, but a dry one and that settled it.
I own to funking such a bath in November with a bridge in
sight. A few moments later the beagles are SAvimming in
mid-stream followed by the INIaster and wliippers-in, who noth-
ing daunted, plunged into the stream and are wading waist-
deep to the opposite bank. The bridge crossed, we are lost to
the pack; beagles and all have disappeared over the crest of
the hill and not even a mellow note comes back to locate their
whereabouts and cheer us on. Upon the crest of the hill how-
ever, stands a shepherd, outlined against the sky, waving his
arms in wild gesticulation. We soon come up to him, but
excitement has run riot with Ms tongue, for his gibberish is
quite uninteUigible.

There is something picturesque about the British "navvy"
when liis sporting blood is up. Picturesque in his soiled, ill-
shaped and patched garb, his unkempt beard and native
speech. Something truly unaccountable, in his wild enthu-
siasm for field sports. The voice of a hound warms his blood
to fervid heat. A wild desire to run and cheer on the labour-
ing hounds possesses him. In liis disconnected speech and
bright eyes one hears the voice and seems to be accosted by the
fellow's early Saxon ancestors. The gist of his words, how-
ever, was to this effect:

"I just seed 'im 'ere, sir, just 'ere now, sir, goin' down
behindt the 'edge. Thor now, look thor, sir, 'ear 'em, those be
good music, sir."

Presently the pack came to view, circling toward us. Evi-
dently from their direction, the hare had again turned, bent
upon doubling and recrossing the stream. Doubtless the
shepherd with his frantic gestures had already turned the
hare, for the beagles, first heading for the stream again, were
now circling away in the op])osite direction, toward a neighbour-
ing chapel. Puss must now give in or outwit his pursuers.

220 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Trying the latter he circled circuitouslj^ this way and that,
in and out, drawing continually toward the chaj)el. The
jjace was heart breaking with hedges, ditches, and a ploughed
field before us. The beagles, however, are bracing to their
work, and rmxning silently. Sometliing in the scent tells them
the chase is nearing an end and by some instinct in common we
also feel it to be true. The chase now seems well in hand. Sud-
denly the hare is viewed away, the beagles break loose their
melody again and are gaining on the hare at every stride. A
dozen paces more and the pack break out in short j'elps of
joy, as they race from scent to \aew. At this comes renewed
strength to weary legs and we stride on with all our might.
One more ditch, another hedge, over an iron picket on which
one fellow is left hanging by his knickers, and we find our-
selves in the chapel enclosure among mossy headstones and
hoarj^ yew trees. With a toot, toot, toot and whoop-hallo, the
carcass is thrown high in the air to drop in the midst of twenty
eager beagles, tumbling over each other in their eagerness
to secure a share of the spoils.

JNIeanwliile the sun had reached the west horizon and it
was decided therefore to hunt no more that day, but to
repair to the inn for tea. The inn lay three-quarters of a
mile away and twilight had settled in before we reached the
tavern door. On long tables witliin were tea, bread and jam.
In less time than I can tell it, the boards were swept bare, our
host distraught and a famine still raging. JNIeanwhile the bea-
gles had been loaded, and our traps were now waiting before
the tavern door. On leaving the inn, I chanced to pass the tap
room. I fancy few such rooms in England have survived the
modern notions of a correctly appointed bar-room. The floor
was flagged and somewhat lower than the threshold. On three
sides of the room casks were piled high one above the other
to the ceiling. The latter was low and black with the smoke
of three hundred years. Rough hewn beams furnished the

Fuut Beagles 221

ceiling support and from one which spanned the centre, hung
a dingy, battered, broir/.e lamp. Beneath was a table warped
like a potato chip and around the table sat three of the natives
imbibing. Chief of tliis clan was the sporting cripple
above referred to, whom I overheard remark to his pal, " 'Ave
been 'ere summers above fifty years and 'Ave niver afore 'card
tell as 'ow an 'are jumj) the Weir Water."

Said a loquacious sot in rejoinder: " 'Ave 'card my faather
tell as 'ow 'e did."

Whether it was the hare or the old fellow's sire, who per-
formed tliis daring feat, I did not stop to inquire or whether
indeed a hare had ever been known to jump the Weir Water
before. By tlais time the affair has very likely possessed the
whole \nllage. No doubt all the wonderful feats of fifty years
past will be aired in the discussion and the Squire, himself,
will do Avell to settle the point before the villagers take sides.

The journey back to Oxford was scarcely less interesting
than our excursion out. There is the same steady rumble of
wheels, the same jingle of harness and clatter of hoofs. On
cresting the hill beyond Cuninor Place we were, nevertheless,
glad to see the lights of Oxford near at hand. From any
vantage ground Oxford appears well by day, bristling with
spires and towers. At night, however, when only lights are
seen, the mind runs back along English history to the earliest
times, even before barefoot monks trudged this road, or before
the days of King Alfred, who is said to have sown the seed
that later brought forth the colleges.

Englishmen have always been proud of Oxford and well
they may be. Ever since those early days the flower of the
Kingdom has journeyed hither like pilgrims to INIecca.

Think how for centuries the schoolboy on the incoming
coach has first seen the object of his dreams. How his heart
beats high at the sight which to him must have seemed the
promise of a "new heaven and a new earth."

222 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

There is little time for reverie, however, as the trap has
already swung into St. Catherine's Lane and stopped.

Each beagler hurries away to his own rooms as rajsidly as
tired legs will travel, in time to don togs of a better sort and at
the stroke of seven o'clock sit down to dinner with his fellows
in the grand old College Hall.

Affectionately,

Your Son.

It is greatly to be regretted that, while we have plenty
of athletics in our American schools and universities, we have
very little sport.

School and college athletics in America, in the writer's
mind, are in a veiy lamentable condition. He speaks from an
intimate acquaintance wth one of the largest universities in
tliis country, a university numbering over thirty-five hundred
students. Yet all the atliletics of this great institution are
carried on by fewer than three hundred men or about one in
every group of twelve. In the so-called major sports only such
men as are able to demonstrate marked abihty in their fresh-
man or sophomore years are wanted. Many try but few are
chosen. Coaches have neither time nor inclination to bother
with any except the very best. We hear a lot about college
athletics, but "college athletics" are one tiling, outdoor sports
for sport's sake are another.

In the American university above referred to, the under-
graduates who do not quahfy and go in for athletics are either
not at all interested therein, or are content to look on, bet on
the result or talk wise, like a lot of professional talent at a
horse race. At Oxford, England, there are also about thirty-
five hundred students. Every day throughout the collegiate
year from two thousand to twenty-five hundred of that number
are at their favourite outdoor sports the better part of each
afternoon. The result of these two systems of teaching is

Foot Beayles 223

simply this: in America our men are old at forty and at fifty
most of them have shot their bolt, made a pot of money or
lost it, or both, and tumble into graves or sanitariums with
half their allotted days unnumbered; while in England, tiie
men who played at school and college as much or more than
they studied are li\ing on for twenty or thirty years after
we are dead and forgotten.

It must not be inferred from the unstinted praise of the
■writer for English methods of school and college field sports
and the natural indulgence in the chase, that he is an Anglo-
maniac. He is not. He hopes he is sportsman enough, how-
ever, to take off his hat to any system better than our own
wherever found.

From all the talk that one hears about games at college,
one unfamiliar with the number of stucUes prescribed for each
undergraduate would think boys did little else except play.
They tell of a farmer who wrote the dean of one university,
to say that the boys there seemed to have a good time playing
games but he would like to inquire how much the adtlitional
tuition would be if it included writing and spelling.

Nevertlieless, it is nothing short of a calamity that this lack
of play at our schools and colleges is the case. As specimens
of the free school and college book-crammed, the American
youths win, but as examples of finely developed manhood and
womanhood, they are far below what they should be. As
models of professional athletic training a few out of many
shine supreme, but as animals, as a rule the majority are
deficient. In these days of so-called advancement, we claim
America leads the world. In mere money-getting, in mere
book-learning and professional coaching, she does. It is a
lamentable fact, however, that too many of our children are
growing up book-wise, body foolish and money mad.

Let us look about us. Are we not developing a nerv^ous,
highly strung race of people, which shine and go like rockets

224 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

while they are in transit, but, like the rockets also, die in the
attempt ?

Our boys and girls are forgetting how to play, the result
must be in America as it has been in Spain and France, a
nervous, excitable, hysterical race of effeminate men and
women.

Again at most American Colleges the men who are able to
demonstrate professional abihty in their freshman year are
worked and coached to the utmost limit of their powers. There
is no place for a boy who wishes to become proficient at row-
ing, for instance, and who does not want to make a drudge
and a slave of himself in order to keep his place. With every
other school and college field game it is the same. As we said
before, college athletics are not sport, they kill sport.

So little do our boys and girls play that they are losing all
taste for it, unless they can win. They cannot stand defeat, it
breaks their hearts. Win or nothing. Chagrin, disgrace,
mortification is the only reward for the second best. This is
the greatest weakness in school and college sports in America
to-day.

What is needed most is some form of schooling that will not
only grow thrifty, healthy animals with nerve, courage, health
and endurance, but such as will inculcate that best of all Chris-
tian virtues; i. e., living by the golden rule. Where and by
what form of training can these things better be accomplished
than an open-air play ground? Where and by what method
can we better teach our children how to play fair and take
defeat as well as victory, in a sportsmanlike manner? How, or
by what process can we develop in our children a guarantee
to health and long life, better than by that daily exercise in
gentlemanly and womanly games of field sports, which store
their systems with energy to carry them through the trials and
cares of hf e to a ripe old age ? We delve and slave and deny our-
selves many comforts to give our children the best training

Foot Beagles 225

for their minds that we can command, while the growth and
training of their hodies are left almost entirely to chance.

As a nation, we seem to lose sight of the fact that children
are animals and as such should have our first consideration.
The writer makes tliis plea for the growing boy and girl of
America, that our schools and colleges let up on mind cram-
ming and professional athletic training and teach them how to
play, how to ])lay fair, how to win and take defeat; and that
parents should insist upon it that such a training becomes a
part of their children's education.

To return to foot beagles, "Hunting," says the immortal
Jorricks, "is the image of war without its guilt." It ])ossesses
qualifications that appeal to all thoroughly manly natures. It
develops those qualities found in thorouglily masculine men,
that are most admired by thoroughly feminine women.

Long Hve the chase 1

To Mr. Lindley Bott,

First Whipper-in to the
Essex Otterhounds.

"Where a winding stream amid flowering mead
Perpetual glides along and undermines
The cavern's bank hy tenacious roots
Of hoary willows, arch'd (find) his gloomy retreat."

Somervile.

XX

OTTER HUNTING

THE OTTER — NATURE OF THE GAME— THE OTTERHOUND — HIS
GREAT COURAGE AND ENDURANCE.

"C^ OX hunting men who have never hunted with otterhounds
-'■ generally look on the sport as something suitable only
for school boys and girls to play at, during the summer season,
when foxes are unwarrantable. They tliink, perhaps, it may
do well enough as easy lessons for children in their first essay
towards the science of fox hunting, or for the over zealous
sporting blood of a Briton, who cannot afford to supply him-
self with a mount. As to comjiaring the game with riding to
hounds after the fox, the wild red deer, or even a drag, most
hunting men would probably "cross themselves and pray to be
forgiven for harbouring such blasphemous thoughts." The
writer's preconceived ideas of the game were after the pre-
vaihng notion, but he wants to say right here that he has been
converted. He believes it is only fair to say that for anyone
who loves to see hounds work and whose soul is tuned to hound

Oflcr limiting 227

music; and for the men and women, too, who liave the true
hunting instinct in their blood, otter hunting takes second
pUiee to no other form of the chase. Whoever has followed
the writer's experiences in the hunting fields so far may be
surprised to hear him say he has never had a day to hounds
that, for unflagging interest and hunting excitement, outranks
the day's sport he had with the Essex otterhounds, which he
is about to record in tliis chapter. How shall he go about it?
How shall he find the words to set the picture before his
readers Avith all its varied lights and shadows?

As the otter in America is so little known except to
trappers of the Hudson Bay country and other remote parts,
he will need a letter of introduction to most Americans before
they realise what an important personage he really is, and espe-
cially, what it means to outwit and outgeneral him.

George T. Underbill says, "The Otter is more nervous
and fiercer than any other English beast of the chase"; Otto
Paget says, "This sport, I think, offers more opportunities
for displaying craft and resources than any other form of
hunting"; to all of which the writer says "Amen!"

There is ])r()bably less known about the otter than about
any other wild animal. Natural History does httle more than
catalogue him. His liistory, as the biographers would say,
"is shrouded in obscurity." This, however, never worries the
otter. He outranks all other game for shyness. He inhabits
nearly every stream in Great Britain, but it is very rare, indeed,
that one is ever seen, even by the most ardent fishermen or by
the owner of the stream on which they are most numerous. No
doubt he hves and thrives in hundreds of water courses in the
States and Canada, where no one would expect to find him
and when only a pack of otterhounds or a Hudson Bay
trapper would locate him. Publicity is the one thing above all
others the otter wishes to escape. In this, as in every other
line, he is most successful. In build the otter resembles the

228 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

weasel, to which family he belongs. He lives on land, but is
especially at home in the water. His short legs make him a
bit awkward on land, and it is in the water that the beautiful
adaptation of his conformation to his habits and mode of pur-
suing his game is most strikingly exhibited. He is lolig in body
(from snout to tail, twenty-six to twenty-eight inches, from
three feet to three and one half from tip to tip), but stands
only about four or five inches high. He is provided with
big web feet, and has a sleek coat of brownish fur that slips
through the water as if it were greased, all of wliich enables
him to dart about under water with the greatest ease and
speed. He is hthe and serpentine in his movements, assisted
by a long stout tail wliich does duty as a rudder to steer him
about, and as a propeller as well. He is armed with a very
sharp set of teeth that are particularly adapted to holding
their slippery game and from which none of the animals he
preys upon need hope to escape. They are professional
poachers by trade and artists in catching fish. Although a fish
is shy, wary and quick, the otter can go it one better at every
play, and generally wins. They won't mind my saying that
although they have not the craft and cimning of a fox or the
speed of the deer, still they are as artful and evasive as his
Satanic Majesty. They can give even the shifty hare points
in dodging, while no ghost or phantom can match them in the
art of appearing and disappearing, and appearing again where
least expected. For keeping hounds and followers guessing
until they don't know their own names, they have, among
animals, no equal.

" 'Tis here: 'tis there: 'tis gone."

'As a family they are a roving band of gypsies. If one is
here to-day it is a sure sign he will be somewhere else to-mor-
row. They travel long distances at night, and sleep in a drain,
which they enter under water and follow to a convenient rest-

Offer Ilunfing 229

in^ place above the water level. A favourite spot for them is
a hollow willow-tree, and on one occasion the Essex Hunt had
the pleasure of seeing one dive from the top of one into the
stream below. When pursued they take to water. They can
stay below the surface for six to eight minutes without coming
up to breathe, and when they do come up it is only for an in-
stant when they simply poke the end of their noses carefully
out, hardly producing a ripple. They take a lot of finding as
well as a lot of hunting. Without the hounds to follow the
scent, as it rests above the water or jfloats down upon it, a kill,
even with spears, would be almost impossible. After hounds
have bolted their otter and hunted liim by swimming in the
water, this is called hunting his Avash.

As to their domestic relations the otter, like the domestic
dog, is believed to hold to the doctrine of free love, with no
special season for courting or bringing forth their young.
JSIadam Otter, hke the masculine members of the family, is
possessed "of a roving turn of mind." Her domestic duties
and family cares come upon her once or twice a year like
house-cleaning and interfere somewhat with her natural habits
of roaming. Twins and triplets usually come to bless this
domestic relation and when the stork is especially good-natured
and generous-minded, he leaves four, and sometimes even five,
httle cubs with Madam at a time. She frets a little over this
enforced confinement perhaps, but she would not be happy
without it. The "old man," at the first signs of trouble com-
ing on, has an engagement in the next county. This de])rives
him of the privilege of sitting up nights with croupy children
and other such domestic duties. Later on he may have a look
in when passing, "but if he is at all impudent and inclined to
boss or domineer over the children, out he goes, his hat is
kicked into the stream after liim and the broomstick is set out-
side to guard the door."

These domestic quarrels, says the huntsman of the Essex

230 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Otterhounds, get hold of the old man's nerves; they jar him,
and scolding is something he cannot abide. Therefore he
never ventures in again until the family is groAvn or he finds
the broomstick has been removed from before the door, wliich
is taken as a sign of welcome by any gentleman otter passing
that way, or, as the English say, who put the sign "apart-
ments" in their windows at the seaside resorts, "We don't take
roomers, but we might entertain a proposition to take respect-
able 'paying guests.' "

Like all poachers and rovers the otter leads an exciting and
happy hfe. He has a keen eye for the largest fish in a stream
and a special tooth for salmon trout. To be perfectly frank
about it, the otter is a thief and is accordingly taken without
compunction. He eats quantities of frogs and snails, and has
been known to take ducks under water, and to kill young lambs.
When he inhabits well stocked streams, he only troubles to cut
a piece out of the shoulder of the largest trout and leaves the
rest of the fish on the bank. His presence is often discovered
in this way.

"A jolly life the otter leads

That lurks hy Eden water;
He has nothing to do hut fish about

And take his j)ick of the eels and trout
That revel at dusk among the weeds.

The dainty old thief of an otter."

He not only kills the trout but drives them to deeper
streams beyond the reach of the fisherman's alluring flies. It
is amusing, however, to hear some jealous otter hunters claim-
ing the otter does not kill fish. This sounds like the over-
jealous fox hunters who talk about foxes not kiUing chickens.
The writer prefers to take the other view and to feel all the
time when in pursuit of the game that a thief is before him

Otter Hunting 231

and that as one of a party of law and order men and women
he is out in the name of retribution. It then becomes a pleasure
to run the rascal down, and one can finally see him broken
with rejoicing, especially when, as in England, the war is
conducted in such a thoroughly sportsmanhke manner. The
evasive rogue has been, thanks to the Master's intimate knowl-
edge of his habits, outwitted and outgeneralled at his own
game while the hounds have worked as hard to take him as
he has to escape. Like the fox, also, he pursues his game
by stealth, therefore he cannot complain if he in turn is also
pursued. In tliis respect the otter and the fox make most
ideal game.

"So hcrc'» to the hca.st called the Otter,
He's tdlji and canii//. the Otter;
No sport is more thrilling.
No beast takes viore killing.
Than the varmint that's known as the Otter."

"The Otterhound," says the noted English authority
Youat, "used to be (two hundred years ago) a mixed breed
between a southern hound and a rough coated terrier, and in
size and form between a terrier and a foxhound." We are also
told they were formerly used for hunting the hare and were
called Welsh harriers.

The pure bred otterhound— for so he is now considered —
is of a dull brownish colour resembling the Airedale, of
whose blood he no doul)t has a dash. This is also suggested by
his indomitable will, liis wiry coat, the carriage of his head, etc.
He has a deep melodious voice and lets it go with great free-
dom.

One trouble in breeding otterhoimds is that the otter
season is on at the time the hounds cannot be spared for breed-
ing purposes. jNIost packs used for otter hunting are, there-

232 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

fore, largely draft foxhounds and a lighter hound known as
Welsh hounds, which are not unlike our own so-called Ameri-
can hounds. Most packs have several couples of old foxhounds,
as it has heen proved that wliile they take to the water, although
not as free in giving tongue, they are considered more reliable.
Foxhounds take very readily to otter hunting after they have
been once well blooded to the game and will seldom leave it
for any other trail, even that of the fox. There are in Great
Britain some twenty odd packs of hounds devoted especially
to otter hunting. The country of an otter hunt extends over
considerable territory. The hounds are moved from county
to county, spending a few days or a week hunting the neigh-
bouring streams. In fact, they are about as sliifty as the otter
himself.

ISIost packs contain from fifteen to twenty-five couples,
about half of the number coming out for a day's hunt.

The otterhound, as bred to jjerfection in England at the
present time, is a bold, resolute and most hardy animal, and
while not as active as the English foxhound or harrier, his grit
and endurance are wonderful. He must be in icy cold water
for hours at a time, at least in the beginning of the season, and
when he comes upon his game, it's a life or death grapple with
one of the fiercest fighters that is known, for the otter is quick
as a fish and his powerful jaws and sharp teeth make liis bite
something for a hound to remember.

The otterhound, therefore, needs to be, as he is, one of the
most ferocious of dogs. Once he goes into a fight it is to the
death — like the otter, he never quits while there is a breath of
hfe in his body. He fights to kill; in this respect he takes
second place to none, not even the bulldog. The latter, when
once a hold is secured, simply hangs on wherever the hold may
be, but an otterhound bites and fights to kill. This ferocious
temper, we are told, makes it dangerous to attempt to keep
many of them in the same kennel, as they are apt to fight

THK ESSEX OTTERHOITNDS

Otter Hunting 233

among themselves from sheer love of comhat. When once a
row is started they all join in and are said never to quit as
long as two hounds can stand up and fight. We are also
told of several attem])ts to keep ])acks of pure otterhounds
together, hut their fighting propensities have discouraged the
most ardent fanciers of the breed. For this reason, we believe,
most packs are largely made up of foxhounds. The otter-
hound, like the otter, seems particularly adapted to the work
he has to perform. He is provided with a strong coat of rough
wire hair which seems ca])able of resisting cold. For, although
he is much in the icy water, when heated with exertion, he is
more exempt from rheumatics and other kennel ailments than
any other hound. His face and muzzle are guarded by a pro-
fusion of long wiry "whisker" hairs that gives liim a devil-maj'--
care look that in no way belies him, and is a j)oint greatly
admired by fanciers of the breed. Whatever his origin, he is
naturally adapted to the chase of the otter. Many generations
of use for s])ccial purposes have undoubtedly helped to
strengthen and perpetuate the particular characteristics of the
breed, which, aided by an Englishman's eye and natural gift
for breeding for improvement, has produced an almost ideal
animal for the work he has to perform. In grit, courage,
endurance and fighting propensities, he has no superior, per-
haps no equal, in the canine family. He needs all these accom-
plishments and a good stock of each to draw from, when it
comes to the chase of a beast that takes so much arduous hunt-
ing to find, and so much fighting courage to kill, when found,
as the otter. It must be said, however, the fighting character-
istics of the otterhound, above referred to, are not so notice-
able A\ith the Essex hounds as one might be led to think from
the above. Mr. I^indley Bott of Chelmsford, whi])per-in to
this pack, assures the writer the ])ure-bred otterhounds in their
pack, which are about one in three, are not given to fighting
more than the others. The Essex men have found that a cross

234 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

between otter and foxhound makes a most reliable and good
working hound. They retain the mode of the otter and the
keen scenting qualities of the foxhound.

"Headlong he leaps into the flood, his mouth
Loud op'ning spends amain, amd his wide throat
Swells ev'ry note with joy."

"From shore to shore they swim, "while clamour loud
And wild uproar torments the troubled Jlood."

Somervile.

XXI

A DAY WITH THE ESSEX OTTERHOUNDS

THE MEET — THE TERRIERS — HOUND MUSIC — A GREAT DAY's
SPORT — LOA-E-M^UilNG — HOW ENGLISH SPORTSMEN ARE AC-
COUNTED FOR — T^VLLY-HO-OTTER — THE OBLIGING MILLERS.

THE meet of the Essex hounds, pre\aously referred to, was
at Bishop's Hall ]Mill, Chelmsford, Essex, England. In
company with I.indley Bott, first whipper-in, the writer went
out, on the morning of July 4th, 1903, to witness and partici-
pate in his first otter hunt.

A good number of brethren and disciples of the faith had
already assembled; they were mostly young people, say from
sixteen to thirty years of age, with occasionally an older sinner,
say from forty to fifty, which latter age included the tenderfoot
from America. Speaking of the tenderfoot reminds him of a
laughable incident that happened during this i)articular hunt.
A follower asked the writer how he was enjoying himself.
"First class," he replied, "although a tenderfoot at the game,
I am enjoying it immensely." "Really," replied the native,
looking down at the^vTiter's shoes, "are your feet hurting you?"
"Well, not exactly," and to let the native down easily as pos-
sible,— "but they are getting a bit weary."

Let us hark back to the meet. The masculine contingent
were mostly dressed in flannel knickers with shirt and jacket

236 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

to match, golf stockings and heavy shoes. Dark blue short-
coats with wliite breeches was the dress for Master and whip-
per-in. The ladies — bless their smiling faces — were dressed
for the most part in short skirts of some homespmi material
that would stand grief, a blouse to match, stout shoes that
laced up liigh, and head gear in variety, from a high theatre
hat covered with posies, to a plain straw sailor. Some of the
ladies wore the Hunt Club blue. All carried in their hand a
straight, iron pointed staff, about six feet in length, a most
useful instrument in negotiating fences, ditches, brooks, etc.
Besides being very useful at times, it was like carrjdng a gun.
It made you feel as if you were really going hunting. In olden
times it was customary for the followers to use a spear on the
otter whenever the opportunity offered, but this is not now-
adays considered "good form" in sportsmansliip, and the spear
of former days is now carried as a staff like an Alpine stock.

Hark! No! yes! 'tis the sweet, mellow note of a distant
horn that announces the approach of hounds. 'Tis quite
enough to set our blood going. Conversation comes to a stand-
still; the story stops for want of a listener, and even the latest
gossip comes to an end with, "Tell you the rest later on."

Listen! 'Tis a sound that cheers you like the voice of your
dearest friend.

"Warrior! Warrior!" Crack! "Warrior!" It's only a
whipper-in rating a hound, but it puts your heart in the right
place without further ado, and j^our blood at a gallop in antici-
pation of the pleasure that's coming.

"Here they come!"

Headed by three httle wire-haired, go-as-you-please fox ter-
riers, the huntsman, "Marching as for war," comes leading
the pack around the bend of the road.

There is nothing like hunting to shame a case of the blues.
From now on we'll let the other fellow do the worrying. It
beats wliiskey for making you light-hearted, or opium for

A Day With the Essex Otterhounds 237

getting you past trouble, and care is as rattled at the note of
a huntsman's horn as a girl at her lover's first call.

Here they come, hard as nails every one of them. The fox-
hounds come on with a grand stately air (the heavy artillery
of the Command) ; the otterhounds look as if thej'^ would hold
on like death (they are the infantry) ; then the lighter AVelsh
hounds (the cavalry contingent), full of endurance, speed,
fire and dash. Finally the little wire-haired (old English
bred white) terriers, three of them, with each particular hair
standing by itself. They went as they pleased, and took upon
themselves the welfare of the whole command. They barked
at a small boy who only sat on a fence and looked at the
hounds as they passed by and at a big traction engine for
committing a similar offence. Chickens and farm dogs, how-
ever, were beneath their notice. They drove a vile smelling
motor car down the road in a hurry, and a rattling mowing
maclune to the other side of the field. They went anywhere
without let or liindrance, and acted as if they were it all the
while. If a big foxhound jumped down a fourfoot bank into
the stream, the little wire-haired threw himself headlong after.
When the Master rallied the hounds to the "drag" of an otter,
the little brats were as likely as not in the very middle of the
fray.

The horn has sounded, and, headed by the JVIaster, Mr. I.
Rose, the skirmish begins. After a short turn down stream,
the hounds return and all move on up water, the followers and
hounds about equally divided on either bank with two whip-
pers-in on one side of the stream, the Master with another
whipper-in on the other side.

Hounds were making good every inch of the way, some
on land, some swimming along either bank, poking their
sensitive noses in every recess likely to have harboured an
otter. Up the stream for a mile or more go the followers, in
single file along the narrow trails. Presently, an otterhound

238 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

gives tongue under an overhanging clump of bushes on the
right bank. Into the water rush the hounds from either shore,
each one straining to obtain a nostril-full of the seductive
scent. 'Twas a false report, or a drag so old as not to be con-
sidered worth mentioning, and a hairy-faced otterhound, Sin-
bad, who had so much to say about it, was reprimanded by the
Master with "Now, then, Sinbad, hold j^our tongue." On we
go for another forty rods ; meanwhile most of the hounds have
clambered out and gone racing up the bank, shaking themselves
free of water that flew in all directions Uke sparks from a pin-
wheel. Some halted and braced themselves for tliis relief while
others managed it as they went. They were never at all par-
ticular where they shook themselves, and the ladies' dresses
often took up a good shower like a sponge ; the grass, of course,
was wet from their dripping, but the ladies paid not the slight-
est heed to these shower-baths and marched on through the
wet grass with no concern.

Of course, there were fences to climb, ditches and brooks
to be jumped or forded. As a rule, ladies are as awkward at
fence climbing as a cow is at fiddhng. Otter hunting ladies
are the exception. They may be a little conscious of exhibit-
ing a pair of big heavy shoes to the gentlemen following close
beliind, but on they go, bold, resolute, and determined to keep
their places in the ranks. They are for the most part dressed
for their work and out for business and fun. Several, how-
ever, exhibited a more feminine weakness by appearing in
white skirts. They looked smart and clean at the meet, but
they must have relied on first impressions to carry them
through, for by the time they had been passed by three or four
hounds shaking muddy water at them, and had climbed or
crawled through a few fences that the leaders had made wet
and muddy, they looked only fit for a wash-tub. Still they
had a big picture hat left and on they went as brave and free,
if not as stunning, as at first. Perhaps it was their first essajs

TUYINC A LIKELY STREAM

HELPINC THE LADIES ACROSS

A Day With the Essex Otterhounds 239

— bless their weakness for adornment,— and they will know
better next time.

The staff is a great assistance, especially in vaulting fences.
With one hand near the top of the staff, the other on the fence,
one can go over a fairly high fence in an easy, graceful vault ;
it is quite as indispensable for the ladies as for the men. It is
a vaulting pole for jumping ditches, a steadying staff when
stepping from stone to stone over shallow brooks, or a sound-
ing pole in wading a stream. As we move up stream the chal-
lenge becomes more frequent and more pronounced. Half of
the pack are now owning to it with increasing clamour. They
are working now A\-ith ever greater vigilance, until, presently,
it becomes an almost unbroken song, the otterhound leading in
dei)th of voice, the Welsh hound excelling in sweetness, and the
foxhound in melody; what a grand chorus! Here from under
a clump of overhanging bushes comes a burst of hound music
followed by impatient wliimperings, then charging on along tlie
shore until once more the whole pack unites in one tumultuous
roar that brings everyone running to the spot. Again the
harmony swells to a climax and dies away, amid fault-finding
mutterings and scoldings, disappointments, like the fading
echo from distant hills.

Thus the trail moves on with ever increasing interest.
Halting, trying back, and again going forward. The hounds
are now full of fire, and their dash and drive, through brambles
and underbush, are something beautiful to see. And again,
when some reliable hound swimming along, suddenly gives
tongue, all the other hounds ruiuiing along the bank, junij), or
rather throw themselves heedlessly into the stream, three to
five feet below. Splash, si)lash, three, four or five at a time,
disappearing beneath the water, to reappear again, giving
tongue to the scent as they come to the surface with a mouth-
ful of water. Then again, when slipping backwards into the
stream in attempting to climb out at some wet, shppery or

240 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

yielding bank, "ding-dong" goes their tongue, as if they would
sooner die in the attempt than neglect to proclaim the good
news. Time and again some hound was thus seen going under
with a flounder, then bravely coming to the surface just as
another hound ahead of him lost liis footing and fell upon him.
Again he comes up like an otter, with more than half-drowned
breath, to try again in a difi'erent place, only to repeat the fruit-
less exertion. Such fortitude, such endurance, and amidst it
all, such manifestations of joy. The joy of hunting. It was
indeed a glorious sight! There is no form of hunting with
hounds that begins to equal tliis for interest and excitement.
Grand and inspiring as it was to the writer and most of the
followers, a pretty little picture was enacted at this point,
that showed there are still deeper feelings in human nature
than are brought out in the most exciting moments of tliis
most exciting chase. Seated on the opposite bank, along which
a dozen or more hounds were swimming and giving tongue,
were a sweetheart and her lover, oblivious alike to the "heavenly
music" of the eager pack and the passers-by. In the midst
of all they saw only each other, heard only each other. There
is notliing strange or unnatural about this. It was the same
old story, the interesting part of it was that it must have been
the real tiling, for if an English youth and maiden can make
love to each other oblivious of what was going on about them
on such an occasion, their affection each for the other must
have been "the pure quill." The writer wanted very much
to take a snapshot of the pair, but it seemed too good to go
into his wicked camera and he let it pass. All the world is in
love with this sort and so it should be, for— Hold hard there.
Author. Don't you hear the joyous cry of "Tally-ho otter"
from twenty rods up water, and you are not there to see the
first "view halloo." It serves you right, you will never make
an otter hunter if you run riot at a bit of love-making.

On rushes the crowd, nearly every hound taking to land

A Day U'itli the Essex Otterhounds 24.1

that he may get on the faster. A few old rehable hounds,
however, are taking their time, or are waiting the horn. They
Iiave learned that by the time you see an otter come to the
surface, he's not there. The next time he shows himself he
will probably be many rods either up water or down.

The view Tally-ho was near a large elm tree that leaned
far over the stream. It stood on the very brink of a perpen-
dicular bank, which at this ])oint was some four feet above the
water. It was about the roots and bank beneath this tree
that the hounds had gathered, two or three even climbing the
slanting trunk for twenty feet or more, giving tongue as they
went. Those in the water, if they had been growing more
clamorous as the drag went on, were now at the very climax
of rage and fury. While the eagerness of the hounds for scent
of fox and wild deer is very great, that of the otter seems to
put them in a state little short of madness. The otterhounds,
were particularly free of tongue, especially Gamester, who was
many times corrected by the JNIaster, for he loved too well to
hear tlie notes of his own musical voice, which went clanging
on when nearly all the other hounds had said their say. "Game-
.ster! Gamester! gently, more gently. Gamester!" calls the
Master; then, with a half-stifled bay, the hound plunges on,
muttering to himself. In the water at the roots there was a
regular football scrimmage, while on the bank the little ter-
riers were digging at a "holt" or "hover." When the fury of
the onslaught had somewhat spent itself, the Master walked on
up stream calling to the hounds, which reluctantly obeyed.
Even then some of them kept returning to the tree until rated
on by the whippers-in. From now on for the next forty rods,
hound music ceased. This brought us to a grist mill. The
Master tried for a little way above it and then we all returned
to the leaning tree. Again the hounds proclaimed the find.
This seemed to settle the question beyond a doubt. Then the
IMaster cast back or down water for fortv rods or more, work-

242 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

ing slowly back again to the leaning tree. Then from the
opposite bank he waded, waist deep, across the stream for a
more critical examination of the bank under the tree. By prod-
ding the bank under water a "holt" was discovered, and as
digging was out of the question, owing to the roots, some one
was dispatched to the mill below to ask the owner if he would
draw off the water so as to lower the stream at this point, which
was much too deep for successful otter hunting. The situation
was also described to the sport-loving miller above this point,
and straightwaj^ his mill ceased turning.

For about an hour now, all hands gave themselves to rest,
gossip, sandwiches, and tete-a-tetes, against cocks of new
mown hay. Flirtations and love-making are not to be men-
tioned.

However, this is a good opportunity to look over the crowd.
Of course, there were at the meet the usual number of truant
boys from the telegraph office and shops, townspeople and their
servants, farm and mill hands with their masters; all these,
by virtue of an unwritten law, came out to see the meet start,
followed, perhaps, for a field or two and returned to town and
work. Nevertheless there were still on the battle field and in
the thick of the fight, mothers with babes in their arms; expect-
ant mothers with children on foot; nurse girls with weanlings
hanging to their hands and skirts ; there also was the governess
with more sturdy lads and lasses from the hall, and a tutor
with a couple of dull ones he was priming for college. The
young doctor was there without his case and the curate without
his Bible. Such, in addition to the regular members of the
hunt, were the self-invited and very welcome contingent who
were followers for the day. How can English boys and girls
help being sportsmen when their mothers transmit to them,
before they are born, the thrill of the chase with which their
own blood is charged, and who feed it to them afterwards from
the maternal fount as they sit on the banks of an otter stream.

MASTKH \M' HIS PACK

•ATCHING THE SCKNT

A Dan ^f^'ff> '^'^ Esse.v Otterhounds 243

(as we saw tliem tluit day), wliile hounds made "heavenly
music" and the crowd were cheering them on^

No, it is no longer a wonder that England is such a delight-
ful country for sport, nor that her children are the hest and
keenest and most genuine sportsmen in the world. Their blood
is charged with it, they take it with their food and the air they
breathe is full of it. The writer has witnessed many interest-
ing gatherings in the hunting field, but for singling out men
and women with true sporting blood and for bringing up boys
and girls in the way they should go to become genuine sports-
men, otter hunting takes the lead.

Hold hard there, Author, action begins:

"Once more the tcclkin rings, hoimds, men, hills.
Rocks and woods in fidl concert join."

The self-appointed members and the wliippers-in have sta-
tioned themselves on either bank both above and below the holt
to see that the evasive otter does not go away unnoticed. The
INIaster wading across the stream, which is still nearly leg deep
in the middle, makes another investigation. In one hand he
carries Iiis staff. In his arms, the three, wet, dirty, wire-haired
terriers are squirming in their eagerness to reach the holt;
meanwhile two or three followers go into the water about the
tree to keep back the hounds and feel if they cannot see the
artful otter if he swims ])ast their legs under water.

It was rare fun to see the courageous little terriers charge
these holts, one on the bank, the other at the hole, which was
formerly under water but now exposed. How they did make
the mud and dirt fly in their frantic efforts to dig their way
in; but the numerous roots i)revented their entering much be-
yond their length. Just as the Master had made up his mind
to take off the terriers and resort to i)ick and shovel there was
a great cry from twenty or more rods down stream "Tally ho

244 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Otter, Tally ho Otter." Hounds and followers rushed along
down stream to the view-halloo, then on further down to
another view. Now came a long wait with much swimming
and music from the hounds. Presently, from way up stream
came another view, and tliis time some distance above the
leaning tree, and so it went on for three whole hours, first up
stream, then down, then back to the holt. By this time the
followers were well strung out on either bank, for possibly
forty rods above, and as far below the slanting tree. Now the
^Master cheers on the hounds and the game grows steadily in
interest and excitement. Views are now becoming more fre-
quent up stream, then down. Finally after a grand rally far
up stream, in which direction the Master was always endeavour-
ing to drive the enemy, on account of getting him into more
shallow water, a dozen men followers go into the stream
(standing side by side, forming a sort of fence to keep the
otter from again going down stream). The water here was
about knee deep. From now on, the battle was a hand-to-hand
engagement. The otter was coming more often to the surface
to breathe, and excitement among followers and hounds was
very great. Finally, the otter came up in rej.ch of a hound
called Regent, and such a struggle between beast and game I
have never seen. The otter went under and the hound went
with him and stayed with him until he brought him to the sur-
face. By this time the other hounds had gathered, and the
death struggle began. The followers were cheering, hounds
were furious, wliile the melee probably seemed greater than it
was, owing to its being in the water. In the tliickest of the
melee the little wire-haired terriers were ever present. In grit
and daring they were simply marvellous. Finally the INIaster
succeeded in getting the otter by the tail, while others were
engaged in whipping off the hounds, and when Ire pulled the
otter from the water and handed him up the bank by the tail the
two wire-hairs were hanging to the carcase like leeches, never

THE KILL

TERKIKRS HANCINc; KROM OTTKR

A Dal/ ]VUh Ihc Es.scw Otterhounds 245

letting go their hold until they were brought to the bank and
their mouths were forced open by a staff. The trophies, mask,
pads, pole, were presented to whomsoever the ]M aster thought
best, which included the writer, adding another highly prized
trophy to his collection.

A splendid lunch followed at a fine old manor house near
by, and the writer, at least, votes his first day's experience after
otter as one of the most interesting, most exciting day's sport
he has ever experienced with hounds.

To Capt. John Daly,
Dublin, Ireland.

"He tvas bred near Dublin City,
Ay he can't go it's a jnty.

And he walks just like a lady tvith her sweetheart at a ball:
See him now so lightly treading
Like a flea upon your bedding.

Ah! He'll bear yer honour's scarlet through a run without a
fall"

Rhymes in Red.
XXII

FOX HUNTING IN IRELAND

THE IRISH HUNTER — HIS BREEDING AND SCHOOLING — THE GREAT
DUBLIN HORSE SHOAV — BUYING A HUNTER.

A CHAPTER on Hunting in Ireland would be most in-
'^*- complete if it did not have a good deal to say of the
Irish hunter. In repeated visits to the Emerald Isle, the
writer has had the best of opportunities for studying the
methods of horse breeding, feeding and schooling that have
evolved the Irish hunter and given him the enviable rej)uta-
tion of being the best of his kind in the world.

First and foremost among his natural advantages is the
fact that he comes from a limestone soil, wliich is believed to
account for his unusual growth of bone. Secondly, that he
is nearly clean thoroughbred in breeding, which accounts for
his perfect saddle conformation, and liis Monderful endurance
distinguishing him in any hunting field in Great Britain above
all others. As a rule, he is a rather plain looking horse with a

Fox Hunting in Ireland 247

large head and ragged hips; while there is, occasionall}-, a real
good looking one. the majority have little to boast of in that
partieular. His motto seems to he, handsome is that handsome
does, and on that ground he shines supreme. His mother is
generally seven-eighths, fifteen-sixteentlis or thirty-one thirty-
seconds thoroughbred, his cold blood coming through carty
farm mares, to which he sometimes throws back in some one
particular, perhaps such as in the feet or head. Sometimes he
looks very carty behind and breedy in front, or vice versa, and
sometimes he comes out nothing but a weedy thoroughbred;
still these are the exception. As the American trotter is the
best representative of the character of the xVmerican people
who produced him, so too has the Irish hunter accjuired a char-
acter decidedly Irish. He is, in a word, a light-hearted devil-
may-care creature that is always ready for a harum-scarum
cross-country racket, which he thoroughly enjoys. His heart
is in the game from start to finish. What he can't jump, he
crawls over or smashes through. He is just reckless enough to
think nothing of himself, and heedless enough to go where he
is sent, regardless of how or in what form he is to land. A
cross-country lark suits him to perfection. He is, as the say-
ing goes, "Seldom sick and never sorry." With such a char-
acter it may be easily understood that the Irish hunter is a
born cross-country horse to begin with.

Now we come to his schooling. His mother and his
"granny," as they say in Ireland, were themselves ridden to
hounds by the Irish tenant farmers who owned them. They
were mated in the spring, many of them before the hunting
season was over, and hunted during the fore part of the fol-
lowing autumn. Then they were turned to pasture, where
they droj) their foals the following spring. In many parts
of Ireland the ])asture lands Avere formerly small enclosin-es
of from two to ten acres, and were divided one from the other
by sod bank fences, or stone walls, which at the present time

248 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

are as a rule, in a very dilapidated condition. The brood mare
with a foal at foot can go from one enclosure to another at
will. These old stone fences of course they jump. They
jump on top of others and jump down again on the opposite
side. If the top of the bank is wide enough, they stop there
sometimes like a goat to pick what grass they can reach before
they descend. Readers of "Cross Country with Horse and
Hound" may recall the great importance the writer attaches
to tliis early training of foals at foot. It was with
pleasure, therefore, that he afterwards found in Ireland so
much to corroborate his own ideas of the advantages thus
gained.

In the tumble-down wall country they jump the low fences
or pick their way carefully over the tumbled down places.
Then again on the rugged commons back from the sea there
are ravines to climb out of, so that by the time a colt is two or
three years old, what he doesn't know about getting over banks,
stone walls and ditches is hardly worth mentioning.

Hunters by breeding, hunters by instinct, hunters by
natural training, not only do they know how to negotiate these
fences but their natural habits have given them nerve and
courage. They cannot see what is on the opposite side of a
bank but, no matter, if they can get up on it there must be a
way to get off it.

So much for the soil, climate, breeding and natural sur-
roundings that in every way help to develop an animal to the
manner born.

Now we come to the part played by the o^vner. First of
all. the Irishman has the best of hands, and more horse sense
than any other nationality the writer has ever met with. They
have bred horses, thought horses and talked horses for so many
generations that they have very keen horse instinct. In some
parts they use principally a single rein bridle on a curb or
Pelham bit. When a man has a seat so secure and hands so

F(hv Hiiutiiif/ in Jrclnnd 249

good as to break a colt with such a l)it. he is not far from being
an artist of tlie jjigskiii, and a horseman comi)lete.

The story of the (levelo])ment of the Irish hunter accounts
for his coohiess, boUhiess, hght-heartedness, native wit, and
wisdom. It accounts also for his great will power, high temper
and judgment.

To these extraordinary combinations we may generall_y
add, if Irish schooled he will have a light mouth with the best
of manners.

\\niile it must not be imagined this is a description of every
Irish horse that is sold as such, they are the general character-
istics that have won for the race the distinction, as above
stated, of being the best of their kind. Still, after all has
been said, the great Dublin Horse Show is quite a disappoint-
ment so far as high class animals are concerned, at least the
show of 1904 was decidedly so to the writer. Several reasons
are assigned for this: — First, the war in South Africa is said
to have taken away too many hunter-bred mares; second,
English dealers have men scouring the country, picking up the
plums as fast as they are ready for market; again, the princi-
pal entries for the show are made from what is left and the
cheaper grade of horses, entered with the object of selling them.
The fair is, therefore, a sale fair quite as much as, if not more
than, an exhibition. There were, in 1904, eleven hundred and
fifty-six entries, most of them exhibited in the saddle classes,
and at least fifty per cent of this great number were not
hunters at all in conformation, but simply hacks and most of
them harness types, pure and simple. So much of this sort
lends suspicion as to their being Irish-bred. Many of them
looked decidedly Yankee. At least, one could chop off the
tails and pull the manes of five hundred grade trotting bred
horses in the States, and make the same inconsistent show of
saddle horses that was .seen in about one third of the animals
at the Dublin Horse Show. The truth is. the Irish breeders

250 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

have been parting too freelj^ with the goose that lays the golden
egg, and to keep up the supply, we fear they have fallen into
evil ways. There are a great many very high class animals
to be seen at the Dublin show and, with the weedy hacks and
harness types thrown out, it is still the greatest show of the
kind in the world, and ought to be included in the sights worth
seeing by every American visitor, who happens to be in Great
Britain at the time. Nevertheless, barring mere numbers,
there are more high class hunters to be seen at the great York-
shire show in England than in Dublin.

Not the least amusing part of an American's experience
in Ireland will be the buying of a hunter, especially if he goes
as a stranger among some of the breeders, or smaller "Job-
masters," as the dealers are called.

We were well advised in this respect before we started out.
We cannot do better, perhaps, in bringing this chapter to a
close, than repeat in substance sufficient of the horse talk that
usually accompanies such a sale.

"Can she jump?" "Is it leap that ye mean, faith and a
house would not stop her if ye have the courage to jDut her
at it." "What's her breeding?" "Is it a pedigi-ee that yer
wanting?" "Yes, bedad, she has and two of them. Her father
was by Erin Gabrah and he's got a pedigree that long a book
couldn't hold it." "And his dam?" "Yes, and that's what
I'm telling j^e, his dam was the best mare in Ireland, won no
end of races, so she did, and her father and mother before
her, since the days of the ark." "Did she come over in the
ark?" "Faith, if any horse ever did, it was her or her father.
Have a lad up, or try her j^erself for a turn about the pasture.
A child of three years could ride her and a silk thread would
never break for the holding of her and yer couldn't make her
do wrong to save yer soul." The mare was saddled, and it was
evident she had little or no experience at all; in fact, she was
but four past, and in all probability had not been ridden a

Fox lluniintj in Ireland 251

dozen times in her life. "Quietest mare in the world,"
said the owner, as the mare was led up to be mounted, "not
a trick or vice, and never was sick or sorry since she was
foaled."

The mare proved, as we expected, thoroughly green but
she seemed to have the making of a good one.

"How much?" "And is it the price o' her that yer asking?
Faith I'm thinking o' keeping her for the Dublin show, she'll
win first prize there to be sure; come away and don't be tempt-
ing me with money."

"What do j'ou ask for her?" "Oh, now ye haven't the heart
to be coaxing the likes o' that away from me. She's the best
mare in Ireland, and she cost me a clean hundred guineas and
was the cheapest mare at the money I ever bought. But yer
a dacent sort, so yer are, and a good judge of horseflesh. INIake
me an offer and if I can live by it and have a bit of corn for
my pig, ye shall have her." "Eighty pounds." "Eighty
pounds! why, man dear, yer only joking! Eighty pounds, and
her with a pedigree the length of a yardstick. INIake it a hun-
dred and you can have her. No! Well, now don't be hard,
say ninety-five; there now, I can't say more, can I? Shure
and yer not going aAvay without the mare, call it ninety pounds
and have finished with it. She'll bring me two hundred at the
Dublin show the week after next. Wait a minute, sure man,
yer not going away without giving me the pleasure of drink-
ing to yer health. Now then, come along in and don't be shy
of a bit of good Irish whiskey. Plain water or soda? Soda,
right you are, and now sure, man, ye'll not be leaving the best
mare in Ireland. INIake it ninety guineas. No! bedad, I'll
say pounds just to please you. It's a bargain, do you say? No,
well I know yer a man of rare sense aTid a good judge, make it
the ninety pounds and I'll put in a good halter and a rug, so
I will. Eighty-five, is that your very best ? Ah ! There's my
hand, she's yours. Faith and ye are a lucky man. No! Well.

252 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

won't ye give any more? Well, man dear, make it guineas for
luck and she's yours." And so it was settled, eighty guineas.

"A high price is paid for that winsome mare.
The farmer seems pleased with the day.
And on his way home he is heard to declare.
He'll buy a new dress for his missis to wear.
And take her to toxmi to the play."

The difficulty in buying an Irish hunter in England is
first, the very liigh jirice that is asked and received for the
best, and secondly, English hunters, even if Irish bred, that
have been hunted at all in England are, for that very reason,
quite disqualified for hunting in America. English fences
are invariably hedges, ninety-five per cent of English cross
country riders shun timber as they would the ways of Satan.

Horses hunted in England invariably brush through the
tops of hedge fences. When they go to America and try
the same trick on the stiff posts, and rail and rider fences, they
come to grief. A horse is such a slave to habit, he can seldom
be relied upon to overcome one thoroughly.

It is far better in buying English or Irish bred horses for
hunting in America to buy them unbroken.

If a schooled hunter is required, they had better come from
the stone wall countries of Ireland, where they learn to jump
clear.

There's vinni/ a .slip 'twi^rf the cup and the lip.

And mall// a f(dl in the field :
Bui there's man// a (/allop that follows a trip.

And man// a xcound that's healed.

XXIII
A DAY WITH THE MEATH HOUNDS

TIPPEBARY — DIFFICULTIES OX THE ^YAY — AN EXCITING DRI^-E —
THE MEET — IN AN IRISH BOG — A COUPLE OF LOST SOULS.

TT'S fixed and as slick as a lick of paint," said Captain
*■ Daly, "you are to ride to Tipperary. So be into your
hunting clothes when the cock crows at six; give your mind to
ease, for I'll be there to fetch you."

The writer remonstrated, for Tipperary was the Cai)taiirs
favourite mare. Stories of her wonderful jumping, staying
qualities, and speed had reached him a month before, in
England, where a friend had said, "If the Captain gives you
a mount on Tipperary, you will surely have the daj' of your
life."

The writer remonstrated against taking such a horse, but
the Captain dismissed it with, "Come now, don't disappoint
me. I'm to ride Colonel So and So's horse. The Colonel is
laid up, but wants his horse to go out, so he'll not be so far
above himself when he wants him again."

The next morning the Captain drove u]) in an Irish "Jaunt-
ing car" and we went "nipping along" to the station, right
smart. A game or two of nap on the train made the time pass
quickly.

254 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

"Lord save us, — here we are!" cried the Captain, looking
out of the window, and there was a husthng for coats as the
train was already at a halt. The Captain stopped to give
directions to the stable boy where to bring our horses. There
was but one cab left waiting at the station, and that a han-
som into M'hich a man had already entered. Nothing daunted,
up rushes the Captain to inquire if the stranger was going to
the meet and if we could ride. "Come in," said the man with-
out more ado and away we went. It seemed this particular
gentleman was a little overstocked with Irish malt. He wore
a dress suit and was just getting home from an "all night,"
as he called it, with the boys. We drove smartly on until
the Captain looked out and said, "Where the devil are we
going?" "To my house," said our host, "to take lunch with
me." "But we do not want to go to your house, we want to go
to the meet." "Why didn't you mention it sooner?" said our
host, who, seated in the middle, began poking his umbrella
up in front as a signal for the driver to stop. "Now we are
in a fix," said the Captain. "We are going the wrong way
altogether, man, we'll be late to the meet."

"Drive us to the meet," said our host to the cabby. "I'll
see you safely there, gentlemen," said he. As the cab
straightened out in the opposite direction, our host began quilt-
ing the old nag on the broad sides with liis umbrella as if he
were beating a carpet.

"Give yourselves rest to your minds, gentlemen, I'll stay
with you to the death." Whack! goes the umbrella, but after a
time our horse, who had been doing his best for some time,
failed to respond. Our host then proceeded to stab him with
the ferrule end of his umbrella. This touched a new spot and
we went away at renewed speed with roars of laughter. As
we went along in tliis noisy fashion all the curs turned in to yelp
and cheer our progress. This encouraged our host, and he
jabbed again, but, instead of answering to the thrust by going

A Day With the Mcath Hounds 2.55

ahead, the old nag resented this protl at the roots of his tail,
his fore feet stopped going ahead, while his hind feet went for
the umbrella. In an instant two bright horse shoes came
straight through the dashboard and stopped only within an
inch of our obliging host's nose. The umbrella was a wreck,
and we were all in a shower of sjilinters, for the dashboard was
in kindling wood.

Cabby pulled up short and our host began to swear and take
on at the loss of his umbrella. Cabby's view of Avhat had been
going on had been hidden by the top. He reined uj) to the
side of the road, jumped down, and began to ajwlogise. "I
never knew that horse to do such a thing before," said he, "I
am awful sorry, sir." "He won't do it again," said the Cap-
tain. "So hurry along, my man, and there'll be an extra half-
crown to you if you get us at the meet in time." Our host was
for prodding the old nag some more, but the Captain inter-
fered. "Who is paying for this game?" inquired our host. "I
am," replied the Captain. "Not much, didn't I invite you
to ride with me?" and it looked as if a row was in
pickle, but the Captain headed it off with a call to the
driver to "Stop at the first '\Vetting-up ])lace,' " where the
troubled waters subsided. While this went on the Captain
had spoken privately to the barmaid. Then he himself took
a drink out to cabljy. He M'hispered to the writer on his
return to jump in the cab. Hardly was the latter seated, when
after him bolted the Captain. Away went cabby, leaving
our host standing at the bar with another drink coming.

"How did you manage?" "Oh! I told the barmaid to keep
him there, that cabby would come back for him. I gave a tip
to cabby when I brought him his grog. Holy smoke!" broke
off the Captain, "but wasn't that a close call? The umbrella
just saved our friend from getting it full in the face. So that
is settled but, confound it, we are late." As luck would have
it the riders came our way and last of all came Tijjpcrary and

256 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

the Captain's mount, and we were soon in the saddles. On a
rise of ground a little beyond were a hundred or more peasants,
men, women and children, every one armed with a shillaly, or
something to shy at the fox. By this time, we had worked our
way well to the front and the hounds entering a bit of second
growth timber, three or four acres, almost instantly began to
show signs of giving tongue. "Look sharp," cried the Captain,
"we'll be off in a minute, and whatever you do, for heaven's
sake, keep out of the bogs. If you get into one once you go
plum to China before you touch bottom. Have no fear of
Tipperary, give a roar at her and there is not a bank in Ireland
to stop her."

Hark! "A tally-ho-gone away," from the other side of the
bush. Tipperary was held, facing a thicket, to keep her quiet
as possible, till the hounds gave tongue. Such a roaring and
hollering as went up from the foot people when the "gone
away" was heard by them — you would have thought each one
had a fox of his own to cheer. No fox ever left a covert any-
where in the world with such a delirious mob to put him on
foot.

The Master began hollering "Hold hard! hold hard!" but
only one man obeyed and he was the Yankee, a tenderfoot to
the game as it is played in Ireland. "Pay no attention to him,"
shouted the Captain, "he was born hollering." That is what
Tipjierary thought also, for, unable to withstand restraint any
longer, she stood straight up in her tracks and began clawing
the air with her fore feet like a pantomime actor climbing a
rope. Presently, she came down to the earth again, her b.ead
still facing the thicket, when another great roar went up from
the foot people, the hounds gave tongue, and with a mighty
spring,Tipperary jumped straight into the thicket. This was
so unexpected the rider was nearly dislodged.

The delirium of the moment was upon her, go she would
and go she did, straight through the underbrush in the most

A Bail With the Meath Hounds 257

direct way of reacliing hounds. She said, as plainly as lan-
guage could speak, "Please yourself, sir, but brush, or no brush,
I am going."

If the first jump into the thicket scratched the writer's
eyes out, the ne.xt one scratched them in again. His white hunt-
ing breeches were green from bumping against moss-covered
saplings, his hat came off, the hat cord parted company with
it, his face was scratched and bleeding from a dozen wounds.
On went Tipperary througli the brush to the river bank, where
the water was only knee deep, and she cantered straight
through it, but it sobered her some before she gained the
opposite bank, at least, her uncontrollable effervescence had
found a vent, like steam from a safety valve, and had reduced
the pressure to the safety point, and we arrived at the first
check on the best of terms.

"Look as if you had been fighting with cats," said the
Captain when we came together. "Where is your hat?" "I
don't know, and that's not all, wherever it is, there it may
stay. That Tipperary didn't jump out of her skin at such
a racket shows she is liide bound. She jumped me out of a
good portion of mine, as you see by my face and you will find
it hanging on some blackthorn bushes on the other side of
the river near my hat. Go find my hat and miss this run? —
not for a hundred such hats; besides it is where the bushes are
so thick a bird could not fly through them. Don't ask me how
I came to be in there, I'll tell all about it when we get home."

We were soon off again, and the Captain kept the writer
in sight for the next few fields, where he finally cut loose for
himself. The run seemed to be a succession of short dashes
and checks, dismounting only to mount again and be off,
which reminds us of the Irishman, who was taken to task for
making too long a report of a railway wreck. If brevity is
really the soul of wit, here it is in his next report — "No. Eight
off again; on again; gone again. Finnegan."

258 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

We were "off again and on again and gone again." Rider
and mount had just settled down to a smart hard gallop and
were both enjoying the exliilarating sea air as we drove through
it in the ecstasy of the chase.

The writer had discovered one thing, that wliile Tipperary
was a model of a hunter in many respects, she had a toeakness,
and that was the strength of her will. When she proceeded
to take matters into her own hands and decided for herself, to
say she had a mind of her own is putting it very mildly. We
were sailing along like a yacht to a heehng breeze, with about
all the sail she can comfortably carry. We were in the wake
of a woman riding a grey hunter, but when about to overtake
her it was discovered that Tipperary and the rider had dis-
tinctly contrary views about slowing down. For some reason
the grey or its rider had a particular attraction for Tipper-
ary. When it came to slowing up a bit as we approached
a bank, for fear of getting too close and jumping on to the
fair rider, should she come to grief on the opposite side of the
bank, Tipperary would have none of it.

The lady and the grey were on the best of terms — a couple
of sportsmen who knew each other and the country. Tip-
perary would not slacken and when she Avas asked to turn to the
right her head answered to the pull but her body was still steer-
ing straight for the grey. A big bank was before us and this
must not go on, so liitting Tipperary a clip with the hunting
crop seemed the only thing to do to drive her to the right and
past, or at least alongside, the grey. Answering to tliis touch
of the crop, she veered to the right and leaped upon the bank
like the flight of a frightened stag, touching the top lightly
with each foot to insure her balance, but "Saints and ISIinisters
of grace defend us!" — the drop landed us in a narrow lane.
Another bank faced Tipperary as high as herself, but she
never hesitated or wavered.

She landed in the lane on all four feet, and as if her legs

A Day With the Meath Hounds 259

were springs, or as if she were jumping from the end of a
spring hoard, slie arose again in the air, Ughting airily on the
top of the next hank, then dropping into the next field with the
greatest of ease.

The difficulty was then appaient ; the grey had been head-
ing for a part of the fence easily jumpable, which landed in
the corner of the next field where there was no lane. Tipper-
ary evidently knew this corner, and was making for it, and
might have followed the grey and no harm come of it. The
Captain, no doubt, would have taken the risk, knowing a sure-
footed horse was before him and that Tipperary never made
a mistake. Well, there we were in the field of ploughed land,
and there was nothing to do but jump back into the lane, stop
there and go out through the gate in the end of it, into the
field where the lady and the grey had gone. The return jump
was also against Tij)perary's judgment, her idea being to go
on after hounds, and she seemed to argue that if she could
jump into a field she could jump out of it again, and to turn
back was only a waste of time. Three times she refused to
jump the bank back into the lane.

"Give a roar at her," cried an Irish laboui'er, "give a roar at
her." So at it we went again, but a roar from the rider was like-
wise ineffectual. Then out came three labourers into the field,
one stood behind, one on each side, and with hands full of soil
from one, a shillaly from another, and a roar and swinging of
arms from all three, Tipperary scrambled up the bank and
there she stopped. Then taking matters into her own hands
again, walked a few steps along the top and let herself easily
down into the lane. The gate was locked, but the labourers
lifted it from its hinges, opened it wrong end to, and after
receiving a suitable reward, sent us off again with a cheer.

There are some days when trouble won't be pacified with
one or two attempts to do us. This was the writer's day. We
were "on again and off again," when the first tiling the writer

260 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

knew, Tipperary was taking the last stride that would land her
into a bog. O lord and Tipperary, the Captain's favourite
horse and — "Whatever you do," he said, "For Heaven's sake
keep out of the bog. You will never touch bottom until you
land in China."

Whatever would happen? What a flood of things go
through the niind, visions of sinking, sinking, that horrible
death, or at best being pulled out by ropes and tackle, while
you listen to all the uncomplimentary remarks of the natives
concerning the tenderfoot's dilemma. And the Captain — it
seemed as if it would be easier to sink at once and die rather
than to see him looking on such a scene from the bank. For-
tunately, the bog was only about ten or twelve feet across.
Hope that came hke a straw to a drowning man, said "The
footing might hold." But it was not to be. Tipperary saw
what was coming, and braced herself for the plunge. Into it
she went leg deep and stopped. When Tijiperary went down,
the awful consequences of such a death-trap swept the writer's
brain clear of thoughts. Instinct and self-preservation were
alone in command. The writer takes no credit to himself for
the actions that directed his course. There was no time to
tliink, self-preservation did it all. As the noble beast settled in
the black trap the writer threw himself headlong forward, so
as to land sprawling on all fours, rather than on his feet, and
well to the right of the struggling mount, as the best possible
position to avoid sinking himself. In this position he wriggled
and scrambled along to the opposite bank (rather to solid
ground, for this bog hole was all on the level) , keeping as much
of his body toucliing the surface as possible. Tipperary, leg
deep in the awful trap, was floundering after.

By tugging at the bridle the writer was able to help Tip-
perary a little. His companion, with his hunting crop hooked
into the breast strap, also helped. Finally, vdth a most desper-
ate effort Tipperary gained solid footing for her fore feet and

A Day With the Meath Hounds 261

the next struggle brought her out. While Tipj)erary had a
few moments in which to recover herself, the companion, with
hands full of grass, rubbed oft" the thickest of the muck from the
wTiter's clothes with the remark, "I could do a better job with
a shovel and a hoe."

Never in the writer's life was he more supremely thank-
ful than when he saw the noble beast making headway and
likely to come out in safety.

As a rule, horses in a predicament of any nature make one
or two struggles and quit, but there is no such word as "quit"
in the vocabulary of an Irish hunter, for his breeding will pull
him through where most others fail, and so it did in this case.
Only one other gentleman saw tliis unfortunate affair; he alone,
followed the writer's foohsh lead. He was just far enough
behind to pull hard to the left and get past the bog on fairly
good footing. The other riders were lost to view by an inter-
vening growth of bushes.

One can hardly imagine what the writer looked like; hat-
less, his face scratched, his stock all blood, and his clothes, at
least the front half, as black and greasy as the treacherous
muck could make them.

Fortunately, there was a dry seat for the saddle and we
mounted ; one of us a sadder, a wiser, but above all, the most
thankful man in Ireland.

A few questions and ansAvers showed that neither Iiis com-
panion nor the writer knew his way, but we finally came into an
open field, next to a "Tater" patch, where a man, whom we
first mistook for a scarecrow, shouted something at us. At
this we inquired, "Have you seen anything of the hounds?"
"Is it the dogs that ye mane, faith and I did, there were hun-
dreds of thim and them's a-roaring."

"Which way have they gone ?" First our informant pointed
in one direction, then in the opposite. This we took to mean
that the hounds had turned back in the direction we came from.

262 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

"How long since they passed?" we inquired. "Yesterday morn-
ing," came the quick reply. "Come over here," shouted the
friend, holding up a flask as a sign that we meant no harm.
"Now see here, we are strangers here, this gentleman got hung
up in the bog, we wish (meanwliile exhibiting the contents
of the flask to the best advantage) you would put us right on
the highway, and when you do, we will be pleased to have you
drink to our health." "Faith and I will, yer honour." At this
our informant dropped his hoe where he stood and started.
Then he began to ask questions. "Where did ye come from?"
And it turned out that neither of us knew beyond the fact that
we came from Dublin by train, got off at some station or other,
and drove somewhere or other, to some meet or other. "Holy
Bridget, but sure ye are a couple of lost souls if ye don't know
where ye came from, where ye have been, or where ye be now,
and Avhereat ye be striving to fitch to. JNIay the saints be with
ye! for it is not me that can tell ye."

Our health had been drunk, each separately, so as to give
[no offence. Soon after we reached the liighway, we met
some riders who put us right. Thus one trouble after another
came to an end, including the finding of the Captain who was
probably worrying about his dear old Tipperary and his lost
Yankee friend.

iTo James Howie,

Kilmarnock, Scotland.

"Talhj ho! Sec the pack hotc Ihcif flij to his cry,
A crash throin/li the i^oodland resounds.
The farmer's 'vicrc halloa' goes up to the sky.
He marks the good fox with a icink of his eye.
And a smile for the clustering hounds."

Poems in Pink,

XXIV

FOX HUNTING IN SCOTLAND

A DAY WITH F.VBMER MCDOUGAL — A BIT OF SCOTCH HUMOUR —

AVEE MCDOUGAL — A FEAV SCOTCH STORIES TOO LATE FOR

THE :\IEET — THE RACE OF HIS LIFE — BONNIE SCOTLAND
FOREA-ER.

BONNIE SCOTLAND— who has ever been to Scotland,
and does not love it, and not only the country but the
Scotch people?

Rural England is one of the most beautiful countries in
the world, but there is sometliing about Scotland, that the
writer likes even better. It might be hard to define what it is,
perhaps it is the brown purple moor, the brawling burns, or
because it is less artificial and more as nature finished and fur-
nished it.

It has been the writer's good fortune to visit Scotland many
times during the last fifteen years. The countn,', the scenery,
the climate and the people seem to suit him and fit him as if
it were his own native land.

264 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

A few days' grouse shooting over the brown purple moors
in August and September and a few days' deer stalking in
October is enough to give Scotland such a character as few
other countries possess, but that is in pickle for some future
time, that may bring to hght Glorious Days With Guide and
Gun. For the present, at least, we will content ourselves with
a day's run to the Earl of Eglinton's hounds — fifty couple
hunting the Ayresliire country four days a week.

James McDougal is the nom-de-plume of a very prosperous
Scotch tenant farmer, and noted breeder of Ayresliire cattle,
living near Kilmarnock. It is at his hospitable board we are to
stay the night, and with a bonnie start the morn, pay a visit
to several other noted breeders on the way to the meet of the
Eghnton hounds.

The first thing to strike one's attention, on entering the
parlour, is the great array of challenge cups and other trophies,
awarded Mr. McDougal for liis skill in the breeding of cattle.
In this dei^artment of agriculture our friend is an artist.

After a cup of tea and several varieties of Scotch scones
have gone the way, with a relish, our friend, who is himself
impatient to be with liis red and white beauties, says:

"Maybe when ye ha' finished with yer tea, yer would no
mind a wee look roond among the beasties. Dinna j'e mind the
fifty pound challenge cup in the corner? Aye, well it is no all
mine, till I win it once more; twice I have brought it hame
from the Highland show, and it's been here noo sa lang a'm
thinking ma Missis would no like to see it removed. Perhaps
ye could say when ye see the coo a'm sending to win it fa good
and a', what yer thinking o' ma chances of pleasing the missis."

Arriving at the stables, our host leads out a string of the
most perfectly formed dairy cattle to be found in Scotland,
which is to say they are the best and most perfect dairy cattle
in the world. McDougal had for months been fitting these
particular animals for the great "Highland" show. They were

Fox Hunting in Scotland 265

as clean as soap and water could make them. Their horns and
hoofs were polished and oiled. The hair had heen elipi)ed from
the neck, the hetter to display the heaiitif ul way it sat upon the
sh(Hilders. The hair along the back had been parted and
flattened by a brush and comb; they were, indeed, the most
beautiful and most perfect lot that can be imagined.

Our host is a great "free kirk" man and we like to touch
him on the subject occasionally just to tap his humour, if
notlii ng more. So we remark at last when our adjectives have
given out over the cattle, "You free kirk Scotchmen have
a lot to answer for ; the good book says we must not covet and
here you keep leading out one magnificent beast after another,
while for every one a black mark goes down in the big
book against me for coveting it. Xow what do you say to
that?"

"A dinna ken but a'm thinking," he repHed, in a slow and
solemn way befitting so grave a subject. "A dinna ken but
a'm thinking, ye will find there's a wee note on the margin of
the book saying ye had sufficient cause."

The cows being duly examined and admired, we return to
the house to talk "Coo" and hear the history of the winning or
losing of the cups.

Paintings and photographs, representing noted bulls and
champion cows, cover the walls, and make material to talk
about after honest folks should be in bed.

The ])rogramme for to-morrow is that we are to drive to
the meet in a two-wheeled cart, while William, the manservant,
on a "fell" hill-])ony, leads our hunters on to Glencliff moor,
some twelve miles away.

Breakfast over, we go to the stable yard to inspect our
mounts. ISIaster Thomas ^IcDougal, aged seven, and Jamie,
his wee brother, are there ahead of us, the former up on one of
the hunters, walking him about.

"Whatever are ye up to noo, ma wee mannic?" called the

266 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

delighted father to Master Thomas, "Ye must no be riding
King Arthur, the morn, for he must gae away o'er the Glen-
chff JNIoor and 'tis a long road, an ye must nae weary him."
"Paw," interrupted the wee Jamie, "Canna a no ride the ither
horse aboot the yards, a would no make him run?" "Indeed
would ye no, ma brave mannie, and what for would ye be riding
him then?" inquires the indulgent father, loath to say no,
until he had his son's reasons for wanting to ride.

"A canna let Tammy say he's the better o' me, paw. A'll
no fall off." This proved a knock-down argument and up
goes the wee Jamie, the father fixing the reins in his well-soiled
hands, and his feet in the stirrup irons, the leathers being
crossed over to the opposite side to accommodate liis short
legs.

"A'll gie ye ane turn aboot the yard," said the father, "and
na mair; we must awa."

The big Irish hunter, Kildare, who has been ratthng his bits
to quiet his impatience, seems to quite understand what is
needed and with arched neck and demure stride walks around
the straw yard, the father holding him well in hand, telhng liis
hopeful to "Sit ye straight, so Kildare will no be ashamed of
ye and wish for yir brither."

"Noo come away doon, ma brave mannie," said the indul-
gent father when the circle of the yard had been comi^leted, "yir
mither'll be ga prood o' j^e the morn; run away noo and tell
her what a bonnie laddie ye are for riding Kildare." But the
youngster had not far to go, for just by the stable yard corner
stood the smiling mother, who to hide her own pleasure said
to her husband, "Ah, James, ha ye na more mind than to put
the wee Jamie on Kildare!" and she shook her head as much as
to say her husband was daft.

By this time, Bess, the driving mare, was persuaded to go
between the shafts of the two-wheeled cart, having explained
to her the while, "Ye ha a lang journey afoor ye the day, ma

Fox Hunting in Scotland 2G7

lady, but we'll make a few calls and a doot na, ye'll be asked
to have a wee taste o' corn sa ye'll na hunger."

Finally, we are off, JNIaster Thomas and liis shadow, the wee
Jamie, riding to the end of the lane; the wee Jamie between his
father's legs, takes the reins without question. "Ye'll no be
late returning the night," calls the good wife after us, "supper
be waiting ye at seven." Once more we wave adieu and the
husband calls back, "JMind that William dinna forget to feed
the white quej^ (heifer) in the middle box when he comes in
at noon."

Bess, practically driving herself, turns the corner a bit
short, and the wheel scrapes the hedge in passing. "Ah, ma
wee mannie, what for dinna ye go wider o' the corner? Dinna
ye ken that Bess would run ye into the hedge cause she's too
lazy to go roound?"

At the end of the lane JNIaster Thomas and wee Jamie
get down with "Noo then, ma brave laddies, ga away hame
and, whatever ye do the d&y, ye'll no forget ta mind yer good
mither, will ye noo?" "We'll na forget it, paw," answers the
sturdy Thomas, as he takes wee Jamie by the hand, and
McDougal's pride in his sons is plain to see. "Canna ay no
ride King Arthur the morn, paw?" cries the wee Jamie, who
thinks it a good time to close a bargain. "A dinna ken," replied
the father, "but a'm thinking he'll be gae weary the morn.
Mind yer mither ajid the next time King Arthur is saddled ye
shall ha' a wee ride."

We had not gone far when we came in sight of a grand old
manor house on a rise of ground some distance back from the
highway, an ideal place. The house itself and even its chim-
ney were fairly smothered with vines.

In the great pasture field, between the house and the high-
way, were half a dozen hunters, brood mares and their foals.
The great oak trees were busy with gossiping rooks; the whole
effect was one of contentment, peace and happiness. "If I

268 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

owned a place like that," I remarked, "I should never want to
leave it." "Indeed, mon," replied our host, "ye min'e have tae
leave it; the man who lived there don't live there noo, he's
dead."

"Then we could not see him to-day if we should call?"

"Na, a dinna ken but a'm tliinking he is clumping the skies
hunting a feller by the name o' Thomas."

"How is that?" "Well," rephes our host, "he was the
squire o' the town, but, nevertheless, he took sick and had to
dae and when it was talked aboot that he was gaein' to dae, a
woman living fourteen miles awa' when she heard aboot it came
in to see him. Her own good man Thomas, having gon awa'
up some three month afoor, the good wife thought it would be
a bonny chance if the squire was goin' to dae to send a word
to her Thomas. When she came in to see laim she said, 'A
heard yer gaein' to dae.' 'So the doctor tells me,' said the squire.
'Would ye mind taking a message to ma Thomas what's gone
awa' up yon?' 'Well,' said the squire, 'what is it?' 'Till him,
said the woman, 'the bairns are going to school and the garten
is growing fine, and we have a rxewy pair of shafts in the
wagon ; and till him we ha' some ne^vy little pigs and the quey
(heifer) has a bonny little calf also a quey,' and so she went
on and on and finally, having made such a good account of
everything, she closed by saying, 'and till him we'r gaein' on
sare weel we'out him.' The squire cut her short at this, with
'And think ye a'll ha' nithing to do, when I ga' up yon,
than ga clumping (tramping) the skies, hunting yer Thomas?'
The squire," added my host, "was a gruff old man and sort o'
contrary like, always saying one thing and doing anither; so a
doot na he is noo clumping the skies hunting a feller by the
name o' Thomas."

Bess meanwhile, hearing a story going on, took advantage
of it to slow down to a walk. "Noo ga awa', lass," said our
host, in a voice intended to convey reproach, pulling back on

Fox Hunting in Scotland 269

the reins as a sign for Bess to go a little faster and added,
"Yer no to be listening, lass, when ye hear talk o' yer neigh-
bours."

Presently, we come to the foot of a little hill and Bess
comes to a full stop. "Ga awa' noo, yer no to be weary, canna
ye no see the bonnie ricks (stacks) of James Donnon? A dinna
ken but a'm thinking ye'll be invited to ha' a wee taste of corn."
Thus addressed and carefully persuaded by a light applica-
tion of the whip, which for severity would hardly dislodge a
flj', we "raise the hell" and come to a halt in ^Ir. Donnon's
yard. I looked at my watch and called my conductor's atten-
tion to the fact that time was flying and we were not over half
waj^ to the meet. Mr. Donnon came out and proceeded to
take the mare from the cart (there is not a hitching post in
all Scotland). "A'm thinking," said my conductor, "we ha'
scant time for stopping. We would like for a wee look among
the coos. We'r awa' to Glencliff moor the day," added my
host and then looking very serious, "for a fox they say ha' been
stealing the widow INIcClure's cliickens o' late and na doot the
poor woman is grieving." "Ah!" cried Mr. Donnon, "what a
tender heart ye ha' for the wdow." "Aye," replied ^NIcDougal
gaily, "but dinna ye mind that Dickens says 'Beware o' the
\viddy?' A'm no forgetting that, James." "Come awa' to the
house for a wee taste." ])leaded our host. "We're short for
time," replied my conductor. "A can understand that," replied
Mr. Donnon, "when ye ha' a widdy in yer heart, and a fox in
yer mind, but ma missis will no think kind o' ye, INIcDougal,
if ye dinna come in and say a word."

That settled it, and with a look of resignation, and a mis-
chievous smile on our host's face, we follow Mr. Donnon to
the door, which the good wfe opens before we can reach it,
with a genuine Scotch welcome impossible to counterfeit.

Like many of the farm houses in this part of Scotland,
there is one large room and in the middle stands a long dining

270 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

table to accommodate a large family. In one end of the room
a spacious fireplace and oven where the cooking is done, the
opposite end of the room being given up to two alcoves just
long enough to accommodate two beds. These beds are about
the height of a sixteen hand horse and are far more difficult
to mount, but once located in the middle, one sinks below
the horizon of feathers like a sliip in the trough of mighty
seas.

On either side of the fireplace, are cupboards, invariably
painted green. Wliile you are removing your coat, Madam,
who has inquired after Mrs. McDougal and the "bairns" in gen-
eral, then each one in particular, goes to a cupboard and takes
out a snowy wliite table spread, unfolds it once or twice, sets
out some bread and cheese, the right number of glasses and
lastly a bottle of Walker's "INIountain Dew." Donnon says
grace, then we help ourselves to the bread and cheese, and a
"wee taste," in which to drink to the health of the Donnons.
This delightful hospitality given and received, it was then in
order to retire to the stables for a look among the beasties.
Time, however, was going on and we had several other calls
to make on the way to the meet.

Bess came from the stable smacking her lips over the last
taste of corn and was once more persuaded that it was her
duty as a good and faithful servant to go between the shafts.

Our next stop was at one Mr. McFadden's and as that
gentleman was expecting us he was on the lookout. It was but
two miles from our last stopping place, but no matter, Bess
must come from the shafts again, and the same Scotch hos-
pitality gone through with. Our host was a sandy-haired, side-
whiskered, upstanding Scotchman with a Scotch plaid cap of
the Thomas O'Shanter build, hght blue eyes, a red face, and a
redder nose. "Come in, McDougal, sure and ye'll no be pass-
ing wi' oot taking a wee drap." "Well noo," replied McDou-
gal, "we just had a taste at your good neighbour's, Mr. Don-

Fox Hunting in Scotland 271

non's, we'r no feeling the need o' anither the noo," "Ah! man,
and would ye taste with me neighbour and no ha' a drap wi
me?" "Well noo, INIcFadden, we'r no hungert fa a taste our-
selves, but if it will be giving yourself an excuse, na doot we
ma acconunodate ye."

There was no dodging it, so in we go. Our host hastens
matters a bit by saying, "But I will tell you fair, McFadden,
the time we give to the tasting we must take from the coos."
When we had left ISIcFadden's our host turned to inquire.
"Did ye no remark the Walker brand on our friend's nose?"
"Is that from Walker's best?" I replied. "Xo," replied mine
host, "that is just the trouble. A little good Scotch is good, a
good deal of bad Scotch is hell, and a dinna ken l)ut a'm think-
ing our friend iNIcFadden is going somewhat in that direction."

Once more we journey on, but the next stop on the pro-
gramme had to be omitted.

Now for the meet. When we arrived there, hounds had
already gone, and we had a good excuse for skipping another
taste at the hunt breakfast, which Lord So-and-so had pro-
vided. Bess, however, went into the stable for her taste of corn.
We mounted our hunters, the groom waiting for Bess to do her
fourth taste for the morning before he started her for home.

Our host and the writer were of course in the usual agony
that thrives on all late comers to the chase. We ride blindly
on, perhaps opposite to the way hounds are going or the near-
est point to reach them, galloping madly on for half a mile,
then halting to listen, and galloping as hard back again.
Presently, it comes on to rain and we seek shelter under the lee
of a hay stack and wait. How the minutes drag and our minds
hurry. We are glad it rains. It gives us an excuse to stop
tearing about on a wild goose chase. ]McDougal lights his
pipe and tells a story: how when he was a lad, he came to the
farmhouse where the hunt breakfast was held, to spend Sunday
with a scliool mate. Thev were out on tlic lawn after dimier

272 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

and he was whistling a new Scotch air, just to show his friend
how it went, when out comes the mother and said, "Here you,
laddies, come here ; noo ye may have a' the Scotch wliiskey that
ye will and ye may go wit the lasses o' a Sunday to your fiU,
but wliistling on the Lord's day a'U na ha'." And this
reminds McDougal of another one. A minister of the gospel,
from America, occupied a pulpit of a church in Edinburgh one
Sunday, and going for a walk on King Arthur's seat in the
afternoon and not knowing the strict rule of the Free Kirk,
was puckering his mouth to a church hymn, when a labourer
accosted him with, "O ye are a sare bad man; if a had nane
ye'd a wliistle on the Lord's day I'd no coom to hear ye
preach the morn." Still the rain swished past and we dis-
mounted to lean against the stack for more complete shelter.
JNIcDougal, feeling chagrined at missing the meet, was blam-
ing himself and the lazy Bess by turns. He thinks he is
especially called upon to entertain his guest and keep him from
going mad because of missing the meet and probably missing
the chase altogether. "Can ye no see the hoose o' James
McPherson who lives just yon by the foot o' the moor? Aye,
when a wee laddie, the father of the present McPherson came
late to school one day and the school mistress said to liim, 'Ah!
Master McPherson, ye'r late again the morn, what excuse
ha' ye tliis time, for a'm no liking to punish ye till a've heard
what ye ha' tae say for yourself.'

" 'Please, mum, we had a wee lassie come to the house the
morn.' 'Ah! indeed,' replied the school mistress, 'I suppose
your father was very pleased?' 'Na,' replied youn' McPherson,
'ma father knew naught aboot it, he was awa' in Edinburgh.'
'Indeed!' 'Aye, and it was a good stroke that me mither was
hame or there'd been no one aboot the hoose to welcome her,
and — What?" broke off McDougal, springing to his feet, "did
ye no catch the note o' a hound?" Placing his hand to his
ear, "There's no mistake aboot it," he cried, "and see, both

Fud' IIiiutiiKj in Scotland 273

King Arthur and Kildare (who were also eagerly listening)
are of the same opinion."

Hurriedly mounting, we ride out for a better view, and
just in time to eatch sight of a travelling fox leaving a flock
of sheej). What a sight! Every sheep with head up was
watching with curious interest the bundle of fur rolling along
over the crest of the lull.

"That's him," cried jVIcDougal, meaning he was the hunted
fox. "Do ye no mind him dragging his brush as if he was
aboot quitting tha job, and can Ve no hear the hounds' music in
the wood below? Thej''ll be out in a wee." And we hurry on
to the line over the crest of the hill, toward which point the
fox was making. INIeantimc, hound music had ceased
altogether, but hardly had we reached the point we were mak-
ing for, when a hound came thrcMigh the hedge from the wood
below, struck the trail, and with a challenge that called every
other hound to the line raced away towards the top of the
hill where we were waiting. AVhat a sight ! One hound after
another joined in the chase and the "heavenly music" rose to
one grand chorus that filled all the vale and came on the wind
to us mingled with its own echo. On came the leading hounds,
the sheep fleeing in all possible haste. Of course there was a
check, as Reynard knew there would be when he sneaked
through the flock. When the last hounds had come up with the
leaders, who failed to pick up the line by their own cast for-
ward, up stands the big jNIcDougal high in his stirrups, swing-
ing his hat and shouting, "TaUa-ho-gan-arca ! TaUji-ho!
Tally-ho-atva !" 'Twas enough, on came the eager pack to
his cheer, ])icking up the line as they raced each other to the
crest of the hill. Then, in a pace that silenced their tongues,
they drove on like a cavalry charge down the beautiful slope.
There w^is not a single rider in sight. The swampy bottom
land whence the pack came had ])ro])ably stop])ed the field.

For three miles the big-hearted ^McDougal, on the big-

274 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

hearted King Arthur, led the way, hard after the pack, down
the hill, through a narrow strip of covert out on to the open
moor. Here we were joined by the huntsman and a whipper-
in on fresh horses. There was a moment's check, and on again
over the great open moor. What a gallop! Hi! hi! hi! On
we went for another mile or so when finally JNIr. Reynard rolled
over in the open and "his spirit," as the old biographers
were fond of saying, "took its flight to that bourne from which
no traveller has ever returned."

What a lucky ending for such a disappointing begiiming!
The rain had ceased. The sun in patches here and there was
sweeping over the great heather-covered hills, lingering now
and again in a valley or loitering in a ravine, only to burst
forth at greater speed over the rounded crest of a footliill;
then to continue the chase after the shaft that preceded it,
until lost in the misty atmosphere of the distant hills.

The ^Titer's pen is surely at a loss to describe the beauties
of the moors as they broke upon us that day. Here and there
a patch of fleecy white cloud, recently wrung dry of rain, was
resting quietly in a dark ravine or again in the lee of an abrupt
shoulder of a hill. These fleecy wliite patches suggested that
the great mountains behind were waving on the chase of the
clouds or was it the chase of the fox?

Reader, have you ever seen the fells and mountains of
Bonnie Scotland when the heather was in bloom? If so, you
will surely saj% with the writer, that it is one of the most beauti-
ful sights in the world. If not, can you imagine thousands
and tens of thousands of acres of moor, hill, ravine, and moun-
tain, covered Avith a carpet of the richest brown and softest
purple? Not a tree nor a shrub to break the evenness of the
landscape — now and again little patches of the greenest grass,
or a sjjot of black barren earth that rather adds to than de-
tracts from the general effect. In the low lands the heather
grows to a height of eighteen or twenty inches, which grad-

Fox Hunting in Scotland 275

ually lessens as you ascend to the clouds where the hleak winds
keep it shingled short. Long or short, its ])ur])lc blossoms lend
colour to its own dark brown shrubbery, so that this wonderful
carpet is seen in all the varying shades between brown and pur-
ple, depending on the light and shadows or the angle of the
hills and undulations as they meet the eye. Who can resist
falling in love with Bonnie Scotland!

Of course we were wet to the skin and twenty-one miles
from home; but in all Scotland there were not two happier
men than rode the distance through repeated rain storms, los-
ing our way, but finally by climbing a sign post and striking
matches to illuminate the arms, we were put right. Reaching
the main road. King Arthur gave a neigh of delight, for he
knew where he was. ISIr. JSIcDougal mistaking the meaning,
remarked, "dinna ye be greeting (crying) laddie, yon are
the hghts o' Kilmarnock."

We reached our destination quite fit for supper and the
rather long night cap which oVIadam had in pickle for us. This
we saw at a glance by the tea kettle simmering by the open
grate fire. "Is it to your liking?" intjuired the good housewife.
"Splendid," we replied, but JMcDougal in characteristic Scotch
replied, "It's na too bad, it's a wee mite sweet, perhaps, but
a'm thinking t'will do." Then looking slyly over the top of his
steaming glass he adds, "A dinna ken but a'm thinking it
might lia' been worse."

We offered a toast to the health of all the McDougals —
may their shadows never grow less; to all the late comers at the
meet — may they never lose heart; to the foxes of the fells and
the moor — may they ever contiiuie to show hounds the way;
and tlie Kihnarnock hutit — may it always have sport; and last
to mention, but first in our hearts, Bonnie Scotland forever.

PART III
HUNTING IN FRANCE

To Baron de Dorlodot.

"My ideal sportsman and gentleman true,
A man of endurance and pluck.
The best pigeon shot that all Europe can boast.
In wild boar hunting he captures the most.
While with foils he is ever in luck."

HAItON dp: DORI.OllDT

XXV

HUNTING IN FRANCE

THE NATURE OF THE GAME — BARON DE DORI-ODOT — THE KEN-
NELS— THE FOREST OF SENOUCHES.

"C^ ROM rude snares and drives into niire, on down through
*■ the age of the crudest weapons and the hand spear to
the present day, the taking of the wild boar has been
attended with great danger. The hon is styled the King of
beasts, but he is a cf)ward in comparison with the wild boar.
The wild boar, being a purely herbivorous animal, has no
occasion to prey upon any other animal. Stealth is, therefore,
to liim an unknown quality. His fighting is always defensive
and, as against his common enemies, the wolf and l)ear, he
invariably came out ahead, therefore he has come to think of
himself as the master of the universe.

There is no animal, in the whole list of big game or small,
that has such an exalted opinion of his own power and ability
to defend himself against all comers, as the wild boar.

He is armed with great tusks in the lower jaw that are from
four to six inches in length. The points of these mash or
rasp against shorter tusks in the upper jaw that keep the
points of the lower tusks as sharp as a knife.

With these weapons, short handled although they are, he
defends himself and at quite a range. His agility is so marvel-
lous that nothing can escape a gash that comes within his
reach and his reach, when standing, covers a radius of five or six
feet to right or left. He can charge ahead, or turn end for end,
in a single spring. When fighting from a standstill, liis hind

280 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

legs form the pivot of his action. His shoulders are deep,
heavy, and muscular, and carry at least two thirds of his
weight. He is covered with a close fitting coat of wiry hair
that protects the toughest of liides, hke an armour plate on a
man of war.

During the reign of Louis XI, we are told, if not before,
the chase of the wild boar was elevated to the sport of kings.
The customs inaugurated by tliis sporting monarch have very
generally been followed to the present day. Since then the
sport has always attracted the nobility of the country, and
although there are but few wild boar hunting establishments
in France at the present time— owing to the scarcity of forests
of sufficient size to attract the game— the few gentlemen who
still carry it on, do so in a princely fasliion, preserving, as
far as practicable, the customs and usages of ye olden times.

There are but a few places in France where the wild boar
is hunted and these estabhshments are not hunt clubs as in
England and America, where anyone is at liberty to join; but
are private packs, under the exclusive management of certain
wealthy, or titled gentlemen, who own the hounds and every-
tliing pertaining to the establishment; and who only welcome
such people to the chase as the INIaster delights to honour.

It was, therefore, with good old fashioned schoolboy delight
that the writer received an invitation from the Baron de Dor-
lodot to spend a week with himself and his family at his beauti-
ful hunting retreat, in the heart of the great forest of Se-
nouches.

The Baron de Dorlodot is easily first among the great
sportsmen of France. His name is everywhere known on the
continent, and in England and America, as the champion
pigeon shot of Europe. Among the prominent events that
have fallen to his gun in pigeon shooting is the great Paris
prize of 1868, offered by the Emperor Napoleon. At Monaco,
in 1885, he won the twenty thousand franc prize and a cup

11 II II ling ill France 281

valued at five thousand francs. He has also won many inter-
national events at Monte Carlo, and other ])laees in France.
His crowning achievement was the winning of the grand prize
and cup, the best prize in England, in 1899. He has also met
many of our best American shots, in our own country and
abroad. An idea of his skill may be had from a single incident.
On the opening day's shoot, in the Chjlteau de Vieusart, Bel-
gium, he killed one hundred and two out of one hundred and
three live partridges. At pistol shooting the Baron de Dor-
lodot is considered invincible. "He is sure," says Le Sport
Universal, "to hit a five cent piece, three times out of four, at
thirty paces, while at fencing he is so clever, supple and rapid
of execution that even tlie professional swordsmen of France
stand very much in awe of him." He is much devoted to yacht-
ing. At one time he kept a racing stud, but a few unsports-
manlike acts on the part of competitors disgusted him with the
game and although he loves the horse, and especially the thor-
oughbred, he prefers a pastime that calls for personal skill and
exertion.

In hunting the wild boar, the Baron de Dorlodot finds the
one sport that above all others is best suited to his taste and
wonderful ability. Wild boar hunting requires a man of the
highest courage, the temper of steel, wonderful endurance,
"stick-to-it-iveness," and an inborn love of the forest and the
chase. During the thirty years the Baron de Dorlodot has been
engaged in wild ])oar hunting, over one thousand wild boars
have fallen to his skill. A great many hounds have l)een cheered
on to their death by the Baron who, single handed, has come to
their rescue, and witli a short sword (blade about twenty
inches), the infuriated boar has been sent to the land of his
fathers. It is not at all an uncommon occurrence to have three
or four dead hounds lying about the spot where the wild boar
makes a stand, and as many more wounded, and sent yelping
and flying in all directions. ]Many of the Baron's hounds, and

282 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

several of lais hunters, as well as the huntsmen and indomitable
Baron himself, carry scars and cuts from the tusks of boars
with which they have come in contact.

Baron de Dorlodot's commodious hunting lodge is occu-
pied by himself and his family, from November to April. It
is partially new and partially the restored hunting castle of
King Louis XIV, who formerly came there to hunt the wild
stag. It is beautifully located and well adapted to the wants
of the present owner and his broad hospitahty. There are many
boxes for hunters, buildings for carriages and automobiles, be-
sides the very elaborate kennels, cooking rooms, and hospital
for sick and injured hounds, breeding kennels, etc.

The granite posts of the entrance gate to the grounds are
surmounted by wild boars' heads in bronze, while the interior
walls are decorated with trophies of the chase by the hundred.
No less than thirty or more mounted wild boars' heads orna-
ment the walls, and clusters of antlers decorate the ceilings of
the hall and the sjiacious dining room.

There are forty to fifty couples of working hounds at the
kennels ; some are pure French bred hounds, some are half-bred,
the rest English foxhounds. The latter are well adapted to wild
boar hunting; having speed, endurance and courage. The
French hound and half-bred, or French-Enghsh cross-bred
hounds, have better noses and are decidedly better in giving
tongue, which in these great forests should be as far reacliing
and as clamorous as possible. The hounds are marked with a
number on the left and the initial "D" on their right side.
These numbers and letters are made by clipping away the hair
instead of branding, and are about four inches high.

The Baron de Dorlodot's huntsman, Antoine, is the most
noted huntsman in all France. He has grown old and grey
in following the chase of the wild boar and has been for twenty-
two years the premier piqueur to Baron de Dorlodot. His
natural instinct serves him well and makes him past master in

Hunting in France 283

the art of locating the game. The joy on his face as he
approaches his master, hat in hand, to inform him that he has
located the kennel of a wild boar is a pleasure to see. The
numerous hairbreadth escapes from death, and the ugly scars
he exhibits on his legs, the result of personal encounters with
infuriated boars, are something he may well smile at, as he
fondly does, when he feels liimself still alive and able to do duty
in spite of them.

The forest where this grand display of wild boar hunting
takes place is well stocked with game, and contains many veter-
ans that are big, strong and wicked. This is owing principally
to the great abundance of beechnuts, acorns, and many other
kinds of food that make the >vild boars of the forest of Sen-
ouches attain a larger size than any others in France. They
are likewise the most courageous and desperate to encounter.
They are great travellers, covering from twenty to thirty, and
even fifty miles in a single night, so great is their natural dis-
position to roam.

It is needless to say, it requires a lot of training in wood-
craft to outgeneral them, for when once on foot they have speed
surpassed only by the deer and the fastest horses and are
greatly superior to the former in endurance or staying quali-
ties. Twenty to thirty and even forty miles, is no uncommon
distance for a wild boar in the heyday of his vigour, to lead
the chase before he succumbs.

It may be seen from this that the hounds to follow him must
be of the very best in speed and endurance.

Not only does it require talent of the highest order in the
huntsman and hounds, the best in courage, speed, endurance,
and voice in the hound, but the blaster, who directs the attack
and plans the chase, must also possess as keen an instinct as his
huntsman, and boldness, as great as a general in command, for
his superior judgment must decide for both.

^ladame la Baronne de Dorlodot always follows the chase

284 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

in lier carriage, and knows the forest so well that she is always
able to arrive in time to witness the final ceremonies of the
game.

The uniform for gentlemen is green, trimmed with gold
lace, hunting breeches of green velvet with long wliite stockings
coming nearly to the hips, high hunting boots, and a belt with
hunting knife (a short sword with about twenty inches of
blade). A carbine carried by the JNIaster and one of liis sons,
is attached to the saddle. The cap is of green velvet. The hunt
buttons are of gold with a wild boar's head in silver.

The ladies wear a dress of green of the same shade as the
men and similarly decorated and a three cornered hat of green,
trimmed with gold lace. The uniforms are worn by such gentle-
men only, as the Master has honoured by presenting them with
a set of hunt buttons. This mark of distinction also entitles
the wearer to carry a hunting horn and to take an active part
in the chase. The wives of such gentlemen wear the colours
and uniform as described for ladies, whether they follow the
chase on horseback or by driving.

The horn is of the style that is worn over the right shoulder
and encircles the body, passing under the left arm, the tube
passing nearly three times around the body.

Before we proceed to show how the game is located and the
chase itself is conducted, it will be necessary to know some-
thing of the nature of the forest.

Baron de Dorlodot owns some 30,000 acres of forest and
rents the shooting and hunting privileges of about 10,000 acres
more.

The Forest of Senouches has, here and there, clearings, and
the boar travels from one wood to another. The great diversity
of the country lends animation to the sports. A large number
of peasants are constantly employed in cutting off the timber.
The system of forestry contemplates cutting over the whole
tract in twenty-five years, that is to say, they begin on one side

Hunting in France

285

of the forest and are twenty-five years cutting the timher from
it, when there is twenty-five years growth to hegin with again.
The clearings thus made take all the underhrush and small
trees, leaving a large straight tree here and there to grow on
for another twenty-five years, or until it begins to show decay.
This underbrush and twenty-five years growth of timber is cut
off close to the ground so that the portion recently cleared is

We<r/ d

.1?

beautiful open forest, with just enough large trees left to shade
the ground. The imcut forest is, for the most part, a thicket
of underbrush and so dense in some places that a bird could
hardly fly through it. The whole great acreage is laid out in
roads and lanes. The roads form squares so that in about every
three-quarters of a mile the turnpike roads come together in
four corners. Running diagonally across these squares, in each

286 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

direction, are lanes cut through the forest for the convenience
of getting out the timber and firewood as the accompanying
illustration will show.

The diagram referred to represents four sections of a forest,
the dark or heavy lines are the turnpike roads, about 100 feet
wide; the lighter lines represent lanes which are about fifty
feet wide. These roads and lanes have been laid out with
engineering skill, and are as straight as a line for miles in every
direction. Each section or square is staked and numbered.

"From wood to wood redoubling thunders roll.
And bellow thro' the vales; the moving storm
Thiehens amain, and loud triumphant shouts.
And horns shrill-w-arhling in each glade, prelude
To his approaching fate."

Somervile.

XXVI

THE CHASE OF THE WILD BOAR

LOCATING THE GAME — THE C0^T:RT SIDE — THE START — THE
CHASE HALLALI ! THE CEREMONY.

WILD boars, like foxes, seek food during the night and
sleep during the day. They kennel almost anwhere
that they happen to be when morning begins to break.

Sometimes they go in small droves, that is, the younger
ones accom])anied by some of the older females ; but the males,
exeept in the rutting season, seem to prefer to travel and kennel
alone.

By daybreak the huntsman, with a well trained hound, goes
out into the forest to loeate a boar; jjossibly, one of the Baron's
sons with another hound goes in another direetion. We will,
for the sake of illustration, start with the huntsman and his
one mute hound, led by a line (ratlier the hound leads the
huntsman by the line), along the road, beginning at the soutii-
east corner of section No. 4-4.5 (see the ])receding diagram).
When half way or more across the east side of the section the
hound, who is carefully hunting every yard of the way, halts
and begins to "feather"— that is, his hackles begin to stand on
end. Without giving tongue he makes a sharj) turn to the left.
The huntsman now examines the road carefully and finds the

288 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

slot (foot-marks) of a boar that has crossed the road (they sel-
dom follow along in, or beside, the road). He breaks some
bushes and lays them in the road to mark the spot where the
boar entered the section at 1. The huntsman and hound then
move on to F and turn west to E, then south, when part of the
way from E to H the hound again halts and "feathers" to the
line of a boar that has crossed there from section 445 to
section 444. The footprints are again carefully examined and
noticed to be the same as were those met with at first.

This place is also marked, and the huntsman and hound
move on to H, then to G, and D. On the way from D to E the
hound again liits the line, showing the boar to have left section
444 and crossed into section 44, then on they go to E and turn
north until they find that the boar has crossed the road, E — B,
into section 45. The huntsman goes on around section 45 back
to E. The hound having found no track going out of section
45, the game is located as to section. The huntsman now goes
down the lane from E towards C until he meets the lane from
F to B. He follows this lane from where they cross each other
to B. The hound having found no trace of a boar having
crossed the lane, the huntsman returns home about 9 or 10
o'clock and reports to the INIaster that he has located a boar in
the west quarter of section 45 ; that he is a five or six year old,
etc., etc. The INIaster consults a map of the forest and deter-
mines the method of attack, and where to station the riders and
the relay of hounds.

In the meantime, the members and guests of the household
have come down at any time they feel inclined to find tea,
coffee, or chocolate, bread and butter and cheese on the dining
room table. Breakfast will be served at ten-tliirty, when for the
first time one is likely to meet with the family, except a stray
one now and again, who is taking the morning cup as you come
down, or before you have left the dining room. Breakfast is
over by eleven-thirty, and at twelve everytliing is in readiness to

Tlic Chase of the Wild Boar 28f>

start, the huntsman and \vhi])s are waiting on the lawn with
the hounds. The Master's hunter and the carriage that is to
conduct ]\Iadanie are in waiting at the door. Friends and
guests are walking their horses ahout initil the moment when
the Baron and Baronne come out to the carriage. When
headed hy the huntsman and hounds, followed hy the riders and
carriages, the "Equipage" moved towards section 45.

The INIastcr and hutitsman and riders are halted at F. The
hoar's kennel, K, has been approached in such a way that the
hounds do not cross the trail he made when going to the kennel,
as they might break away. The hounds are now put in couples,
two hounds coupled together by a short chain from collar to
collar, three or four being attached by short lines from the
coupling chains, to one long line. In this waj^ the relays are
handled by servants w'ho are stationed at F, C, E, and possibly
at A and D. The IMaster then directs a certain number of
riders — men to whom he has presented the hunt buttons and
who wear the hunt uniform, and are therefore entitled to wear
the horn — to station themselves at F, G, E, A, and D. It must
be remembered that the forest in this part is covered with thick
undergrowth, so that it is impossible to ride anywhere except
in the roads and lanes.

When time has been given for the hunt members and hounds
to reach their assigned places, the hounds are made fast to a tree
by the lead line. The Master and huntsman and three or four
hounds move on via E, two or three riders perhaps accompany-
ing them. When they arrive at the spot Avhere the bushes lie
in the road at 4 to mark the spot where the boar crossed the
road, these two couples of hounds are slipped: at the same time
the huntsman rushes in after them on foot, and everyone at this
point begins to shout or blow horns in order to set the boar on
foot.

As before stated, the boars are so conceited as to their own
prowess, that they often disdain to move, especially after they

290 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

are four or five years old, and will stand in their tracks
and kill or wound every hound that comes near them.
Therefore all this noise and racket to arouse him. It is a very
dangerous business for huntsmen or IVIaster to go in with the
hounds to meet a full grown boar. Sometimes such boars have
to be shot in their tracks as they will not move. It is on this
account that onlj^ two or three couple of selected hounds are
allowed to go in to help start him. These chosen hounds have
previously been wounded by a boar and know enough to keep
out of liis range. If, however, they succeed in putting him on
foot before the other hounds come upon liim he will usually
run on until overtaken, in which case he stands at bay, although
he fights desperately at every stand he makes, until in the end
his keen fighting edge is gone, and the danger of his doing
harm to the hounds is correspondingly lessened.

Instantly hounds hit upon the line they begin to give
tongue, and with the shouting and tooting of horns, we will
suppose, the boar is set on foot. Like most other game he
makes one or two short turns, doubhng back on his track and
then sails straight away through the forest.

As soon as he straightens out for a run, the Master, noting
the direction, sounds a signal from his horn to liberate the
hounds at C and F : these run on to join the trusty four who are
already giving tongue to the line. After doubling back on his
track, somewhat as shown in the illustration, the boar crosses
ihe road into the section 44 at 5.

Of course the riders stationed at E and B are on the lookout
and as he crosses this road, they sound an alarm on their horns.
A few moments later the boar is seen by those stationed at A
and E, as he crosses the lane A — E into the southern quarter
of section 444, when the hounds, at A and B, are slipped and
rush through the forest to join the chase.

The riders at F rush down the road towards E. From
C they ride down the lane towards E. From B and A they ride

f^r^:

%^

-^ s *

The Chase uf the Wild Boar 291

doA^Ti the lanes to the centre of the section. Meanwhile the
riders stationed at E and D view the boar crossinfj out of
section 44 into section 444. The remaining hounds, at D and
E, are now slipped and the riders are racing at the top of their
speed southwards, cheered on by the riders at G and II, who
have viewed the game, leaving section 444 at G going South, —
and the chase is on.

There is little or no jumping, but the riding at times is at
a pace httle short of steeplechasing.

The wild boar runs remarkably straight when once really
away, and for the next two or three hours you may have your
fill of gall()])ing on and ever on before he comes to bay.

Instantly he stops, the hounds change their baying to bark-
ing. Tliis first halt lasts but a few minutes, the huntsman or
INIaster rushes in to see if there are any killed or wounded
hounds. If so, some one with a horn is left in charge. The
boar having recovered liis "second wind," again rushes away for
another twenty minutes or half an hour, halts again and once
more proceeds to give battle to his old tormenters, then on
again for ten minutes, and another stand. Again he is on
foot, but more slowly now. When he halts again it will, in all
probability, be his last stand.

Hounds are baying and barking at his heels as he plods
wearily on. Now the riders cheer on the pack "Ilallali ! Ilallali !
Hallah!" The blaster dismounts with short sword in hand and
going up amongst the hounds dispatches the boar with a quick
thrust, just back of the elbow joint, that pierces his heart.

The wounded hounds are looked after, needle and thread
being used to sew up their wounds, lint and bandages to dress
them, and a wagon, that answers for an ambulance, is soon at
hand to carrj'^ them to the kennel hospital, where they are as
faithfully attended as a person would be, and made much of
by every member of the Baron's household.

The fmieral obsequies are a most ceremonious affair. The

292 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Master sounds the death rally that calls together stray riders
and hounds. A gun is also fired as a signal to those who may
be out of hearing of the horn.

The boar's carcase is now brought out in the liighway or
open grass plot, and the hunt servants attend to taking off the
pelt, head and feet. When the pelt has been removed it is
again spread over the carcase and the funeral ceremony
"L'Hallah — la curee" begins. In the meantime the ladies,
who have accompanied the chase in carriages and carts, come
on with wine and cold meats, etc., and a general visiting and
congratulation goes on.

Twelve men in uniform, each carrying a horn that encircles
the body, as already described, stand facing the carcase, six
on one side and six on the other. On the other two sides stand
rows of spectators, completing the circle.

First the six men on one side play the first line of the
death song, the other six play the next line and so on alter-
nately through the song, the horns being purposely keyed to
make the music harmonious.

How beautiful it sounds echoed and re-echoed through the
great silent forest ! Altogether the scene is quite indescribable.
The hounds, meanwhile, are standing in the circle between the
musicians and baying as only French boarhounds can.

When the last verse is being rendered the huntsman steps
to the carcase and, taking the boar by the ears, moves the head
right and left as if it were ahve, until the hounds are quite be-
side themselves with eagerness to pounce upon it.

As the last notes of the last line die away an attendant
removes the head and pelt and at a signal from the huntsman,
every hound rushes in. "Halt!" shouts the huntsman, when
every hound has his nose witliin a foot of the prey, and every
hound stops and moves not a muscle, so well are they trained.
When the lot have their position, twenty odd, with noses point-
ing towards their game and not two feet away, the huntsman

The Chase of the Wild Boar

293

cries, "Charge"; and no sooner said than done, every hound has
his teeth fastened into the carcase, and the tug of war begins.
W^hile the snap})ing and snarling pack are surging first one
way and then the other, now losing hold and recovering it
again, piece by piece, joint by joint, the parts give way and
are devoured. Amid this scene the crowd sings the death song
as it had been previously played. The special words and music
of Baron de Uorlodot's hunt are given herewi

I grand qa lop II est sui.vi parOorlo.dol.

Sometimes it is too late to undertake this ceremony in the
woods far from home, and the boar is carted home and laid
out upon the lawn in front of the kennels. A bonfire is kindled
and torches are lighted for additional illumination to the scene.

When it is all over and the hounds have been kenneled, we
return to the house to discuss the run over and over again as
we sit about the hospitable board.

Bftron (If Dnrlodot's Hunt Button

"The prudent huntsman, therefore, will supply
With annual, large recriiits his broken pack
And propagate their kind: as from the root
Fresh scions still spring forth, and daily yield
New blooming honours to the parent-tree."

Somervile.

XXVII

WILD STAG HUNTING IN FRANCE

A DAY WITH THE MARQUIS DE CORNULIER^S FRENCH HOUNDS —
TAKING THE STAG IN A LAKE — A MOST EXCITING DAY's
SPORT.

rilHE wild stags of France are very similar to the wild red
■*■ deer of the Devon and Somerset country in England.
They are much larger than the common red deer of North
America, and but little smaller than the elk of the Rockies,
which animal they resemble very much.

They are located, and the chase is started with a few hounds,
joined by relays as the stag gets well away, very much as
already described in the chapter on Wild Boar Hunting.

Through the kindness of Baron de Dorlodot, the writer was
enabled to participate in the chase with two celebrated packs of
staghounds in France.

Our first day to stag was with the celebrated pack of pure
French hounds, owned by the Marquis de Cornulier. These
were certainly the most musical pack the writer has ever heard.
They are said to have originally been produced by a cross

Wild Slag lliintiucj in France 295

between the hloodhouiul and the greyhound, or possibly the
greyhound was in some cases used as the sire. At any rate,
they resemble the greyhound in conformation quite as much, if
not more, than they do the bloodhound. They are even more
intelligent-looking than the average English foxhound. Kven
the celebrated Grafton or Pytchley hounds in England that
are noted for most musical tongues are not to be compared
■with this pack of French hounds for music.

The stag, in this particular chase, kept twisting and doub-
ling his track, not going more than a mile in any one direction,
until finally, as is customary, he took to water (a small pond
of some twenty or tliirty acres) .

The shores for the most part were fringed with cat-tails,
marsh grass and flags. What a sight it was! jNIy pen seems
entirely unable to describe the scene. The stag was quite fresh
when he entered the pond; the hounds, however, were right at
his heels, and twenty-five couples went plunging over the bank
— a drop of three or four feet — in the most fearless style that
can be imagined ; all giving tongue, and the lot of them swim-
ming as fast as possible after their game. Their music, as I
have said, was uncommonly melodious when on the land, but
out on the water it was even more so, and there was plenty
of it. Across the pond the stag takes to a patch of thick grow-
ing rushes, which close in behind him, and shut out the hounds
as they are unable to touch tlieir feet on the bottom or penetrate
the maze by swimming. They finally go ashore in open water.
The stag, meanwhile, is hidden in the rushes. The hounds are
now sent in from shore, the huntsman wading through the break
to encourage them on. In ten or fifteen minutes, out goes
the stag into the pond again, the hounds standing on the shore
plunge in after him, and once more the "heavenly music" fills
valley, hill and forest for miles around. Forward and back,
up and down the pond swims the deer, with the same stately air
and majestic carriage of the head as he had on land, and

296 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

plougliing through the water like a steam tug, with forty or
more hounds swimming after liim. Thus the chase went on,
the stag liiding in the rushes, only to be driven out again with
the clamorous pack in his wake. Once he came out in open
water, and ran for twenty or thirty rods inland, a portion of the
pack right at his heels ; but fatigued and heavy with the water,
he saw tliis move was a mistake and returned again into the
pond.

Nearly three hours were those hounds taking that deer
after he reached the water ; they were about two hours upon his
trail before that. It was dark by tliis time, but a bonfire lit up
the scene, and the funeral dirge was sounded, the hounds giving
tongue the while. When the last honours had been paid to the
stag and the stoi-y of the chase and the endurance of the hounds
had been recounted in song, we said farewell to one o€ the most
exciting days' chase the writer ever joarticiiJated in.

After the two days' wild boar hunting with the Baron de
Dorlodot's hounds, and the day with the Marquis de Cornuher's
staghoimds, just described, it was arranged that we should
spend the fourth and last day of the writer's visit on tliis occa-
sion in following the staghounds of the Marquis de Chambray,
some twenty miles distant.

"For," said mine host, "the IMarquis de Chambray is the
most noted Master of hounds in France, and his hounds are the
direct descendants of the Royal pack of King Louis XI. They
are entirely different from any other hounds, and I should not
like you to return without having a day with them."

"But twenty miles is too far to go to a meet."

"We will go in the automobile. I will wire to a hveryman
in the neighbourhood to meet us with a two-wheeled cart, and
we will see what we can, driving along the roads and lanes of
the forest."

The next day, just as the clock had gone eleven, we started
for the meet, which was at noon and twenty miles away.

Wild Stag Hunting in France 297

The Baron de Dorlodot is a very Jehu to drive, and he sent
the machine ilyiug over the beautiful roads at the rate of forty
miles per hour for over a good part of the journey. It was a
glorious ride, and the writer's first experience in a conveyance
of this kind. All the time there kept running in his
mind the words of Sheridan's famous ride to Winchester.
Eleven-thirty-three! and the JNIarquis de Chambray only five
miles away.

We arrived at the meet in time for a bit of lunch at a farm-
house, where we were introduced to the venerable Master and
several of the prominent members of the chase, and with time
to inspect the hounds before going on to covert.

Whatever may be said of the decline of athletic sports in
France or the gradual disappearance of the famous Royal hunt-
ing establishments of the country, still the Normans may point
>vith pride to a number of gentlemen who have presei-ved, to
the present time, the ardent love of the chase, and who take
pride in conducting the same in the brilliant costumes, and
according to the usages and traditions, of former times. First
among the luimber must be mentioned this famous ^Master of
staghounds, the JNIarquis de Chambray. During his JNIaster-
ship up to the day of our visit, January 24th, '01, he had taken
his nineteen hundred and eighth stag. Although his hair is as
white as snow, he seems as hale and hearty as most men of half
his years. In respect to the ancient custom of the chase, he
still wears deerskin breeches, tanned wth hair on, as may be
seen in the accompanying illustration. It is claimed by the
members of the hunt, that should any of the famous hunting
Kings of France come to life, they could find little to criticise
in the methods of locating the game, the chase itself or the
breeding and management of the hounds; furthermore, this
most affable gentleman is held up as an example of the highest
type of the French nobility of the old regime.

We must hasten on to notice the hounds, for they arc hardly

298 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

less celebrated than their indomitable Master. After lunch,
the WTiter was taken in hand by INIonsieur Roger Laurent,
nephew to the JNIarquis de Chambray, for a proper introduction
of their celebrated pack of hounds and a bit of their interesting
history.

Marquis de Cornulier's Hunt Button

"Resolved to die,
He fears no more."

XXVIII

A DAY WITH THE IMARQUIS DE CHAMBRAY'S
HOUNDS

THE WHITE HOUNDS OF THE KING ST/VRTING THE LORDLY STAG

A PERCHEUON STALLION IN HARNESS HAIJ.ALI ! HAL-

LALl! — THE 1908th STAG — IN DEFENCE OF THE CHASE.

IT was during the reign of Louis XI, who came to the throne
in 1461," said Commandant Roger Laurent, "that this par-
ticular breed of hounds originated. King Louis XI received
from a poor gentleman a certain white dog, called 'Souliard,'
and it was from this celebrated dog, that the famous race, ever
since known as 'The White Hounds of the King,' descended."*

Louis XII continued in the same hne, and so on down to the
reign of Charles IX, who ])ublished a book on hunting, and
could not say enough in jjraise of this race of dogs.

Henry IV of Englancl was so pleased with the working of
these hounds, that he introduced the blood into his own Royal
pack. James I of England took over a pack of them, and also

*It is said in the history of the times, according to an article
in "L<? Sport Universal," that on account of the way they distinguislicd
themselves above other hounds in tlie chase, tlie King decided to keep
no others.

300 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

commanded certain French gentlemen to go to England to
teach the lords and nobles of that country the true principles of
stag hunting.

Under Louis XIII the Royal hounds consisted of two
packs. They were known as the "Great White dogs of the
King," and the "Small White dogs of the King." The great
stag hunter, King Louis XIV, had a hundred of these hounds,
and under Louis XV they numbered one hundred and tliirty-
two.

These hounds are mostly white, with light fawn markings,
of medium size. They seem to be a distinct family, as they
have little or no resemblance to either the present French or
English hounds. Some of them seem to show the effects of in-
and-in breeding, but as a rule, they are a very uniform and
beautiful lot, that are worth going a long distance to see.

Luncheon and the inspection of the hounds over, the vener-
able Master sounds the horn as a signal for moving on to covert,
and we look about for the two-wheeled cart, which the Baron
de Dorlodot said he would wire to have in waiting. Imagine
the writer's surprise to see the Baron making for a big, lumber-
ing, two-wheeled cart, a sort of gig; at least it had a top let
down for the occasion, and was hung on platform springs. The
wheels of this cart were quite heavy enough for a farm wagon,
the shafts were large poles of natural second growth oak, while
between them was a great white Percheron stallion, over six-
teen hands Iiigh, who would weigh something like sixteen hun-
dred pounds. The trap was about half that weight and the
three occupants added at least five hundred more. The turnout
figured out something like this, a sixteen hundred pound horse
to a thirteen hundred pound load.

"Fancy," said the writer to himself, "our trying to keep the
pace of a pack of hounds after deer, in such a turnout as this!"
The whole thing seemed such a burlesque, that the writer never
expected to see even the tail of a crippled hound. He felt sure

THK MAKQIIS I)E fHAMHRAY

J'hc Marqiii.s dc Cliaiiil)r(i//'.s Hounds ;}01

he could get on quite as well, and probably (juite as fast and a
great deal more comfortably on foot. Fortunately, he kept
most of these thoughts to himself, but he evidently said or
looked enough to call from the Baron, "You shall see."

The driver perched himself upon an improvised seat on the
dashboard, his feet braced against the crossbar of the shafts,
wliile the genial Baron and the writer occupied the blanket-
covered seat behind Iiim. The traces were very slack and when
this great stallion went into the collar, the conveyance started
with a jerk that nearly upset us backwards.

We followed along slowly in the procession.

Meantime, the relays of hounds and riders had gone on to
take up their respective stations, similar to the method described
in starting the chase of the wild boar, two or three couple only
remaining with the INIaster, in charge of one of the hunt serv-
ants. These hounds, in England, are called "Tufters," and are
the most trusty and obedient hounds of the pack. These forests
are full of deer, therefore it is necessary to single out and get
the one to be hunted well away, before letting on the pack.

The stags of full age are the ones to be hunted. Such a
one is located in the early hours of the morning, when, like the
wild red deer of England, or the wild boar of France, he has
retired from his feeding ground to a quiet retreat in the forest,
there to enjoy liis cud and sleep, sometimes alone, but more
often in company of a number of other stags, or the younger
members of the tribe.

To single out a warrantable stag from the number, and set
him well away with the "Tufters" to his hne, requires, in these
great forests, great skill and woodcraft.

Presently, we arrive at a place where there are deer tracks
crossing the road in such numbers as to suggest a floek of
sheep. The ^Master invites us to inspect the footprints made by
the stag we are following. Toadies and gentlemen alight from
their carriages, and many of the riders are also shown these

302 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

slots. This adds greatly to the interest and enables all to feel
that they are personally engaged in the chase. Often a gentle-
man or lady who is driving to hounds, is of great assistance to
the hunt. These footprints are very carefully studied. It is
surprising how some of the ladies can carry in their mind's eye
most accurate details as to size and shajie, and slight variations
between right and left fore-foot, or a flaw in tlie shell of a hind-
foot, in fact the slightest irregularity in anything about the
footmarks.

While we are carefully examining these details, the relays
of hounds and hunters have stationed themselves as the Master
has directed. At a signal from the INIaster the "Tufters" are
slipped, and away they go into the forest, cheered on by voice
and horn to the lair of their game.

"What Ho! There! Look to our stalhon!" No longer can
he be called a lumbering cart horse, for at the sound of the
horns, he rears in liis track until it looks as if he would surely
turn somersault backwards into our laps. This accounted
for the unusually long traces. Had he been properly hitched,
something must have given way at this extraordinary per-
formance.

Our driver was wearing a smock coat, blouse, or whatever
it may be called. It was puckered across the breast, and
gathered in about the low fitting neck, and came well down
below the knees. From beneath its ample folds he now draws
what in the Western country would be called a "black snake"
lash (a limber black leather cutting- wliip) about four feet
long, which he flourished about our heads wth a crack like the
report of a gun. At this, the great stalhon comes down to the
earth again; then, with a wild challenging neigh, that fairly
shakes the forest, the noble beast springs into a canter wth his
first stride. Talk about riding on a gun-carriage of light
artillery, or on a fire engine at full gallop, or being run away
with in a lumber wagon over a corduroy road, all of wliich the

The Marquis dc Chamhrmj's Hounds- 303

writer knows by experience to he of a stirring- nature! — well,
this two-wheeled French gig with a wild stallion to draw it,
and a very devil of a driver with a black snake beliind liim,
was gun-carriage, fire engine, and a runaway lumber wagon
combined.

Out from their retreat broke at least twenty wild and
startled deer. It was as grand a sight as ever a huntsman
could wish to see. Among the lot, his head with towering
antlers sweeping liigh, came forth the lordly stag. What a
sight! The females and younger members of the herd bounded
away, but not the monarch. Stately and proud, he moved
along as became his station. The woods, meanwliile, were
ringing with shouts of men, tooting of horns, and baying of
hounds, to wliich music our stallion set up such a roar as would
shame a lion.

The writer has witnessed many stirring sights in the forests
after the lordly moose, caribou and deer, but the carriage and
gentlemanly bearing of this noble stag, was a sight never to
be forgotten. It recalled an old school-day couplet among the
favourite selection for speaking pieces.

"Ho! cowards! have ye left me to meet him all alone?"
Thus our grand, our haughty, our noble game, disdaining to
run, walked across the opening and disappeared amojig the
dense underbrush. On came the hounds, joined by relajs from
different directions.

Crack! Crack! went the black snake, and the chase was on.
What a ride! it was bad enough along the forest road. We
entered a lane with such a sharp tin-n to the right that the left
wheel of the cart went si)inning around in mid air. There were
no carriages in front of us, and the way that great wild
stallion snatched that two-wheeled trap down this lane, was, I
am sure, a record breaker. Farm wagons had cut great ruts
in soft places during the wet season. Now it was dry, hard
and lumpy. In some jilaces the undergrowth met over the

304 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hotind

centre of the lane, for wliich we had to duck our heads and be
sharp about it, too. Dead sticks and hmbs blown from trees,
lay here and there across the track. Some of them crushed be-
neath our chariot wheels, others sent us in mid air above the
seat, wliich picked us up now and again in a way to loosen our
back hair. On we rode, hanging on for dear hfe. We saw
it all, at least, we believe we saw as much of the run as any
one mounted rider.

Hallah! HallaH! We were driving more slowly now. At
last we saw the stag, not two rods away, moving slowly along
parallel to the way we were going. His head was still carried
erect, but not in the jaunty light air as at the beginning. His
crown of antlers was getting heavy. Thirty hounds were bark-
ing and baying in his wake. The end was near at hand. He
halts, throws uj) Iiis head in his same lordly f asliion, and stands
as motionless as a bronze statue. "Hallali! Hallali!" shout
the riders, "Hallah ! Hallali !" All fear seems to have left the
stag. He is entirely oblivious to everything and everybody
about liim. He looks as unconcerned as the great bronze stag
on the lawn in front of the chateau de Chambray. He seems
to be hstening for some far away sound in a dreamy sort of
way. In fact, he seemed, as no doubt he was, in a sort of cata-
leptic state, that a kind providence provides for all in the
face of death. This is Ms last stand. The Master inquires
who would like to dispatch him. A young man in scarlet and
wearing the hunt buttons of the Marquis de Chambray quickly
dismounts and walks straight up to the stag, who turns not nor
moves a muscle. The notes of the death song from the accom-
panying horns tell the great forest for miles about, that the
noble sjiirit of the stag has paid the debt. The stag is then
brought out on a beautiful gi-assy mound, where the roads
and highway of the forest meet, and the beautiful ceremony
about the carcase, as already described, takes place.

Congratulations, a sandwich, a bit of cold meat, and bottles

The Marquis dc Cliaiitbrai/'.s Iloumh 'Miry

of wine come forth in <rreat abuiulance from some mysterious
source and employ the hulies in giving- and the gentlemen in
receiving.

The happiest man in all the crowd was one Yankee, as
you could easily tell by the expression of his face, as he started
for home with a boar's head and pelt from the Baron de Dor-
lodot, taken in the chase the day before, the foot of the stag
taken in the pond, from the JNIarquis de Cornulier, and the
head, pelt, and a foot of stag number one thousand nine hun-
dred and eight,* from the INIarquis de Chambray. These
tropliies were the next day put in pickle by a taxidermist in
London, and thus taken to America to be mounted. They now
grace the walls of a modest little home, where the owner re-
gards them as the most priceless trophies of his collection.

As the writer looks back upon the many glorious days he
has spent wth horse and hound, guide and gun, yacht and
paddle, his only regret is that so few of his countrymen know
the meaning of it all. He feels that in comparison with most
men he has lived a hundred years.

"Be it fair or foul, come rain or shine.
The joJ/s I have possessed in spite of fate are mine,
Not heaven itself o'er the past hath porcer.
What has been, has been, I have had my hour."

The general idea in America seems to be that only the
wealthy can indulge in such sports. This is a mistaken notion
altogether, as the writer is a living example to the contrary.
The men who seem to get the most out of life are not the

*Thc illustrious marquis celebrated the capture of his two thousandtli
stag in 1902. He was then over seventy years old and when the writer
last visited the Baron de Dorlodot, in 1903, had taken his two thousand
and twentv-second stafj.

30G The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

wealthy or the idle rich, but the hard working business men,
who steal a half holiday whenever they can. If it is in them,
they'll find the way. •■

There is no country in the world where one can find so
many men and women who possess the financial independence
to enable them to indulge in such pastimes. The lamentable
thing about it is that as the rich grow richer, at the same time
they seem to be giving way more and more to idle luxuries.
It is only a case of history repeating itself. Still, strange as
it may seem, some well meaning men and women are doing all
they can to discourage the chase in everj^ form. They don't
want the foxes killed, nor the horses ridden so hard as is neces-
sary to go the pace. At the death of a chicken-thief fox they
rave. If a rider is injured, it "serves him right."

The strange thing about this dumb animal worship is that
the more dumb and helpless the animal is, the more some people
gush. There is no sentiment in human nature so blind as exag-
gerated heart sentiment, which is the usual source whence
comes a lot of sentimental bosh and fairy tales in the form of
nature studies. A morbid feminine instinct seems to possess
some eff'eminate men and over sentimental women, not toward
the human but toward the dumb race.

We have all heard of the woman who kissed her cow and
clubbed her husband over the head with the milking stool,
because he allowed the cow to kick over the pail of milk. "Dear
old Bossie." "Brutal man." The most consistent dumb animal
worshipper the writer ever heard of was the chap who could not
bring himself to eat an oyster, because it would kill the oyster.
"Bless his precious little heart." Whose heart? Well, help
yourself.

The following is given as a sample criticism on the chase.
It is from a man in a western state. He says he "is shocked at
the barbarity of the foreign idea of sport." He says he has "a
choking throb of pity for the hunted, and furthermore that

The Marquis dc Chambrni/'s Hounds 307

although the people of the United States may not have reached
a perfect understanding of the ethics of true sportsmanship,
they lia\e advanced so far beyond the spirit of the chase as to
cause pride and gratitude to every citizen among us."

While the act of taking the life of game is in itself no edify-
ing sight and is part of the chase very few of the followers ever
witness or ever take part in, the writer is supremely thankful
that he has not "advanced so far beyond the spirit of the chase"
as to have lost the manly courage necessary to pursue it or to
have advanced so far by our so called "higher civihsation," as
to have his mind filled with effeminate ideas and ways of think-
ing. Sentimental sentiment is something very pretty to eon-
template but in tliis case as usual it goes without logic or
reason.

Here is a person living in a western state, where stock-rais-
ing is the principal industry, holding up his hands in holy
horror at the death of a stag taken in the chase, and thankful
that he is in "advanced" America where such things are not
considered sportsmanlike. At the same time in his own state
there runs every day of the year a river of blood from the
throats of innocent domestic animals at the thought of which
he never turns a hair. How can such persons tilled with
"choking pity" for the death of a stag, bring themselves to eat
the meat of domestic animals slaughtered, not in mercy to
those who are left behind, as are the stags and wild boars in the
forests of France, where they are too numerous for their own
good, but to be devoured? How can such critics of the chase
ever eat lamb that has had its frolicking days of innocent play
in company with a mother brought suddenly to an end by an
unfeeling barbarous butcher? How can one "choking with
sentiment" for the hunted, bear to visit a stock farm or lend
his presence to an Agricultural Fair where he must mingle with
farmers and butchers whose business on the one hand is to
rear, on the other to butcher, thousands of "iimocent lambs,"

308 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

"pretty pigs," and "darling little calves," that are purposely-
brought into the world by the design of man only to
have their throats cut and give their hves up as a sacrifice
to man?

There are hundreds of thousands of domestic animals in
every western state yearly thrown into pens with not one single
chance for their lives, not one single hope of escape, which
every sportsman gives to every animal of the chase. In fact
all animals of the chase are given nearly equal chances and if
taken are usually outwitted or outgeneralled at their own
game.

What would our western critics advise if a delegation of
farmers adjoining his property should come to liim as they
did to the Baron de Dorlodot and say that if he did not do
something to keep down the number of wild boars in this for-
est, they must bring the question to the courts, for they were
destroying their crojjs to an unusual extent? Would he say,
as the Baron de Dorlodot did, "Gentlemen, I am getting old,
I am now hunting the wild boar two days a week ; I will here-
after hunt him four days a week and if that does not do, I
will have to hunt him six days in the week."

There are some effeminate men and some sentimental
women who would sooner tie a bit of perfumed ribbon about
a fox's neck or a fish's tail and let them go again, the one to
be caught in a steel trap, or to die of starvation or disease, the
other to be devoured by the larger fishes, than think of tak-
ing the life of the one by pursuit in the chase or the other by
the artful casting of the sportsman's fly.

If the chase is such a degrading factor in the upbuilding
of national character, then must ]\Ierry England be one of tlie
most degraded countries in the world, for nowhere in the world
is the chase so universally indulged in by all classes, and espe-
cially by the most intelligent, courteous and refined people,
as in Great Britain. As previously stated there are in

Tin- Marqni.s dc Chamhraifs Iloumh 300

England, Ireland and Scotland about four hundred and fiftj'
organised jiacks of hounds; two hundred jjaeks are for the chase
of the fox, one hundred and ninety-eight packs for the chase of
the hare and the remaining number are devoted to the chase
of the stag, the wild red deer and the otter. ]Many of these
packs hunt four and five days a week throughout the entire
season.

Among the followers of the chase in England, as in France
and Germany, are the nobility from the lloyal family down.
In England they are the members of the House of Lords and
the House of Commons almost to a man; the officers of the
army from the commander-in-cluef to the lowest subaltern;
the Judiciary, from the Chief Justice to the village pettifog-
ger; doctors of divinity and doctors of medicine.

Not only is the chase followed by the aristocracy and
wealthy classes of England, but the spirit of the chase pervades
every mother's son and daughter of the Kingdom. If there
is any single characteristic that dominates all classes in Eng-
land, it is the spirit of the chase and sports afield. The former
is but a continuation of the latter when the school and college
days are over.

Little England instead of being a backward, demoralised,
barbarous country, has led the world as an educator and
civiliser. She has accomplished more in these lines to the
present time than all the rest of the world combined.

As for the chase making people think and act in a brutal
or unsportsmanlike manner, as some w^ould incline us to think,
where, in the history of any other nation or people can be found
such consideration, such Christian-like conduct as has always
been sho^ii by the English for their enemies in battle and to
their foes when vanquished. In these respects Great Britain
has ever been in the lead of the world. If the English have
one virtue that outshines all others, one national trait that dis-
tinguishes them above all others, it is their inherent love for

310 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

domestic animals. Are these the signs of a degenerate, brutal
race?

It may be argued that while all that has been said hereto-
fore is perfectly true and consistent with well known facts,
still there remains the death of an innocent creature. If that
could be eliminated from the chase altogether, or if their taking
off could be robbed of its cruel feature, as many good people
view it, the horror of the chase would be less a rei^roach, so
that the more sensitive could endorse it. First as to eliminat-
ing the hunt altogether from the chase, this is done in many
cases where a trail is laid by someone dragging a rag sprinkled
with anise oil and assafoetida on the ground. This is better
than no chase at all. Others hunt the wild fox without stop-
ping their earths and therefore seldom catch one. This fox
who kills our chickens and young lambs, the otter who kills
our finest trout, are most ideal game. For they are thieves
and vagabonds, and one always feels in their pursuit that an
outlaw is before him and when at last he is overtaken, that the
untimely death of Mrs. Farmer's hens or INIr. Farmer's trout
has been avenged. Some people who sanction the hunting of
the fox often draw the line at rabbits, wild boar and deer. On
many occasions it is absolutely necessary to kill off a certain
portion each year as already shown, and all game preserves are
hunted on that plan, the oldest stag always being taken except
when this plan does not keep them doAvn to a number the
preserve will carrJ^ Then the females are also taken. Still
there is the question of taking life that stands in the way of
some good meat-eating people who have probably never made
a study of the hunted. They do not know, perhaps, that the
Providence wliich permits each family to prey on some othep
family or to be preyed upon by some stronger family, has
included in the plan a special provision for robbing death of
its horrors and even of its sting. People with oversensitive
imaginations picture to themselves the horrors of such a death

The Marqiii.s dc Chamhraifs Hounds .'311

from tlieir own, not the animals standpoint, and make out a
veiy blood ciirdlino- case. But the trutli is that most domestic
animals sutler more by being caught by a hired man for any
jiurpose whatever than does a wild animal that is pursued to
its death.

This provision of animal economj^ might be questioned if
it did not likewise apply to man, who, when he is in turn pur-
sued, or when spriuig upon by wild animals, experiences the
same sensation. There are any number of instances on record
where men have been pounced u])on by wild, ferocious animals,
and who have escaped with their lives by the timely aid of a
friend or guide. Those invariably tell us that when the final
moment came all sense of fear and danger left them and the
horror of death had no sting whatever. They have recorded
afterwards how they saw the panther lash his tail and work his
claws preparatory to the spring. Still their mind was in ])er-
fect composure. They had in one instant passed beyond the
horrors of death and the sense of fear. They report also hav-
ing experienced the shock and the tearing of the flesh, but felt
no pain or discomfort until afterwards, when their normal
faculties retin-ned.

JNIen in battle do the coolest things, acts that pass for hero-
ism and bravery, when the truth is they have simply passed
beyond the state where they sense their positions. 3Ien and
women under conditions of sufficient importance do heroic
acts, the recollection of which makes them faint away after-
wards. It is the same unfailing provision of nature that steps
in at the right moment in the lives of the hunted, especially
when taken by pursuit consistent \\\i\\ the creative plan, and
carries them past the taking off point without a Jiang. The
writer, as before stated, believes that it hurts a domestic animal
more to catch it for any purpose than it does for the hunted
stag to be pursued to his death.

I do not think, for instance, the stag whose death the writer

312 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

described in this chapter had the slightest fear. He simply
realised the moment had come and faced the conditions without
a quiver, head erect and eyes that saw all that was going on.
This stag had been fleeing from real and imaginary enemies
from the day of his birth, so that the mere act of being pursued
or fleeing for safetj^ was second nature. He practised all the
craft of the race as his instinct taught liim with a clear head
and a cool judgment and finally when it did not prove to his
advantage as it had on all former occasions, he accepted the
fall and died in liis tracks without fear.

To the writer's mind, there is no way or form of taking
wild game animals that is so sportsmanlike, so human, and at
the same time, so consistent with their natural environment, as
to take them in pursuit.

AVhat have we in America to compare with the chase in the
upbuilding of the nation or of individual character? Perhaps
the western critic would suggest billiards or pool or poker amid
clouds of tobacco smoke and the reeking odours of the bar,
in preference to the degrading influence of the chase. He
might suggest croquet; or if that is too fatiguing for warm
days, he might prefer a pound of candy and a game of tiddle-
de-winks under an electric fan.

No, we don't know how to play in America. The nearest
most of us come to it after we leave school and college is to buy
a ticket to the grand stand and shout ourselves hoarse at a lot
of hired men playing baseball. It is, to the writer's mind,
nothing short of a national calamity that we have no game, like
the chase, suitable for men. We are by this so-called liigher
civilisation, to which the critic points with so much pride,
degenerating in build, lacking in endurance, stamina, courage,
nerve, health, nearly everytliing except book learning that
goes to the up-building and perpetuity of a noble race. What
schooling have we in this country to make a true sportsman of
a boy? Almost nothing. He will certainly not acquire it in an

The Marquis dc Chambrat/'s Hounds 313

American scliool or c()lk'n,c cxcc])t in a vague sort of a way,
for as we ha\e already slio\\n only about one college boy in
twelve goes in for field sports.

We may grant that it is too bad that even a chicken-thief
fox or an old stag should contribute his life to this uj)building,
but they are only a drop in the bucket compared with the hun-
dreds of thousands that are butchered daily for the upbuilding
of our i)hysical natures. And of the two we do not think it
too much to say that a day's ride to hounds, even if the life of
dumb animals taken in the chase pays the price, will do more
for the bodily upbuilding of the followers than all the butchered
meat that the same number of ])ersons will consume for the
day.

It may be argued by some who approve of the healthful
exercise of horseback riding, but who will not tolerate the chase
of a dumb animal, that a person might ride fifteen to fifty
miles four or five days a week on the highway in lieu of the
chase; hut they tcon't. A person might walk five to twenty
miles a day on the highway, as many do in the chase of a ball
on a golf course, but they won't and probably couldn't if they
Avould. Some claim they can follow a golf ball all the after-
noon with less fatigue than a walk of a few blocks for the sake
of walking.

Returning to the horseback rider, he might be permitted to
take some dogs along for company and make his horse jump
a few fences and ditches by way of supplying added interest
to riding for exercise. He might also indulge his hunting
instincts by riding through a few coverts with a view of starting
or seeing some game. He might do all these things, hut he
won't.

No, there is still lacking that incentive so essential to last-
ing enjoyment: the indescril)able something that produces un-
flagging interest, is still missing. On the other hand, it is jjlain
to anvone that the followers of the chase grow and thrive bv

314 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

what they feed upon. Men and women crowd to the covert
side year after year, through youth, manhood and old age,
principally to see how one more riddle of the chase will unravel.

It is just at this point that some well meaning people are
led astray in condemning the chase. They argue that the
element which leads on the followers of the chase must be the
act of kilhng something. They straightway condemn the chase
as a relic of barbarism and the followers as blood-tliirsty men
and women, who have not felt the effects of a higher civilisation,
in which the critics see themselves. Nothing could be further
from the truth. So far as the riders are concerned, the death
of the animal hunted is the incident, not the object, of the
chase. If this were not the case, one would hardly expect to see
a hundred men and women banding together with a hundred
hounds for a hundred hard days' work in the season, on the
chance of killing one hundred foxes, employing in the mean-
time a hundred men to look after a thousand horses worth a
million dollars. No, a hundred cents worth of paris green in
the hands of a hired man, or a single steel trap in the hands
of a poacher, would do the Idlling far more effectually.

By uniting in the chase the elements of war, with but little
of its risk and hardships, to the ardour of hunting with all its
woodcraft and cunning, you have as the result the most interest-
ing, the most fascinating, the most healthful game that was
ever invented by man.

While the chase is the "image of war without its guilt," it
calls for the expression of nearly every manly virtue. It gives
to the youth courage, self control, nerve, health, and strength.
It leaves no stain but that comes off in the wash. It gives to
manhood, hardihood, resolution, and perseverance that carries
him on to \'igorous old age.

And so it has come to pass that there are to-daj^ thousands
of men and many women, fifty, sixty, seventy, and even eighty
years of age, riding to hounds over some of the roughest hunt-

The Marquis dc Chamhraji's Hounds 315

ing countries, riding hard for forty and fifty years after many
Americans, who see themselves in the "advanced" civihsed Hst,
have shot their bolts and tumbled into premature graves
simply because they had no chase to follow, exce])t the chase
after money, which is too often the only one the American
knows. In i)ursuing this, he is generally overtaken and killed
by it, with half of his days unnumbered.

Long live the chase, to make men better fitted to live and
enjoy hfe as it goes. Long live the chase, to teach men how
to play and how to play fair. Long live the chase, to make
men stronger in mind, and healthier in body, and to enable
them to live their allotted dsys. Long live the chase, that the
followers may transmit to the generations to follow the noble
virtues of a hardy race of mascidine men and feminine women.
Long live the chase!

Marquis dc Clmnibray's Hunt Button

"For so do we know it, the Chase, and we hold
Men better for hunting; the creed
Of love and good fellowship lives as of old
And binds every class into one sacred mould.
Long, long may it live and succeed."

Poems in Pink.

XXIX

RIDE, FAIR AMERICAN: ENGLISHISIAN, RIDE

The following poem was especially written for "The Hunt-
ing Field With Horse and Hound" by that charming poet-
huntsman and JNIaster of Hounds, INIr. W. Phillpotts Williams,
in recollection of a glorious day with the Hursley hounds.

Come and III tell you, I'll tell you a story,
You who love England and hold her so dear.

You who are proud of her record of glory,
Lend me a moment and lend me an ear.

Down in the vale where the sunlight was streaming.
Right in the heart of broad England we met,

By the old bridge where the river was gleaming,
Down in the village the gathering was set.

Thatched the long roofs of the cottages round us,
Broad was the roadway, and bright was the green.

Peaceful it looked and contented it found us.
Nowhere but England coidd boast such a scene.

Ride, Fair American: Englishman, Ride 317

Hark! There's a crack of a whip at the turning.
Yonder they join us, "Hounds, gentlemen, please"

Eighteen sxveet conple of bitches, all yearning
For the game to begin, come up under the trees.

Sorty and true tdth an absence of lumber.

Even in stature with bone to the feet.
Each was distinct, yet a part of the number.

Each was a foxhound, and all were a treat.

Strains from the Belvoir and Quorn intcrblended,
Warwickshire's fastest, and lirocklesby's best.

Right through the pack the tradition descended.
Work was the watchword , and xcork was the test.

Near in the crowd, sifting well on their horses,
Tico good horsemen stood still by the way.

Each loved the chase and the pluck it enforces.
One was in scarlet and one rcas in grey.

He in the pink icas an Englishman, leading
The life of a sportsman and true to his creed.

Born of the best, and a type of his breeding.
Master of hounds and part of his steed.

He in the grey was from over the ocean.

Born in America, bred in the West,
Keen for a hunt, he'd a very good notion

Of riding to hounds with the hardest and best.

Hark! there's a note of the horn, and a holloa,

Reynard goes gallantly over the grass.
Follow them, follow them, follow them, follow,

Onr^ard they galloj), and onward they pass.

318 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound

Onward they gallop, those hitches so lightly.
Never a hound's left behind in the gorse.

Comely and Crafty, and Sportive and Sprightly,
Break at the head of the galloping force.

Forward away where the pastures are gleaming.
Set in the heart of broad England so fair.

Forward away where the sunlight is streaming.
Forward away with the galloping jmir.

Forward away for twelve miles they are moving.
Every hound up in her place in the pack.

Every hound working, and every hound proving
The worth of her sort on the grass covered track.

What, have they got him? Yes, Nosegay has nailed him.
Gamely he faced it, this fox in the vale;

One and another they all have assailed him,

Tear-him-and-eat-him-hounds. All within hail.

Who has the brush? Who shall claim it, my inasters?

He in the scarlet or he in the grey?
Both went so well and kept clear of disasters.

Both went their best through the best of the day.

Each has a look. Then the Englishman takes it.

Handing it over in turn with a smile,
Then again touching the trophy he makes it

Clear that the other is welcome the while.

Yes, there is soviething that baffles the telling.
Men of the chase will know well what I mean.

Something too deep for mere writing and spelling,
Something mysterious, something unseen.

RidCj Fair American: Englishman, Hide 319

Something that touches our hearts when it finds us.

Moving us ahcai/s to gallop arid ride.
That brings out the best of our natures and binds us

Closer' together, and fills us u-ith pride.

Come then, fair sportsmen from over the waters.

Join in the gallop and ride in the race.
Join in our sports with ijour sons and your daughters.

All will find good in the ways of the chase.

Come and go on with the march of the nations,

Like the two sportsmen, move on side by side.
Guided in all by the best aspirations.
Ride, fair American: Englishman, ride.

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
BERKELEY

Return to desk from which borrowed.
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.

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Compost if on and electrotyping of text by Robert Kerr Press;
press work by Van Rees Press; engraving and printing of
halftones and colored plates by Sterling Engraving Company;
binding by Butler, Ward Company — all of New York.

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