presented to

library

of tbe

of Toronto

*ort William Public Library

KINGS OF THE ROD
RIFLE AND GUN

t •••••/,*/>,„;• to Vol. II. \

SIR RICHARD SUTTON, MASTER OF THE QUORN.

KINGS OF THE ROD
RIFLE AND GUN

BY

"THORMANBY"

AUTHOR OF

" KINGS OF THE HUNTING HELD,"
" KINGS OF THE TURF," ETC. .

WITH 32 PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS,

VOL. II.

LONDON

HUTCHINSON AND CO
PATERNOSTER Row
1901

PRINTED BY

HAZELL, WATSON, AND VINEY, LD.,
LONDON AND AYLESBURY

Contents

PAGE

WILLIAM COTTON OSWELL 337

JOHN YOUNGER 363

SIR RICHARD SUTTON 393

WILLIAM SCROPE .415

THE HON. GRANTLEY F. BERKELEY 446

THOMAS TOD STODDART 484

HENRY ASTBURY LEVESON 508

ALEXANDER RUSSEL 532

SIR SAMUEL WHITE BAKER 554

THE EARL OF STAMFORD 595

LANDSEER AND MILLAIS 611

SOME WIMBLEDON HEROES 631

INDEX 666

List of Illustrations

SIR RICHARD BUTTON, MASTER OF THE QUORN . Frontispiece

A FIGHT AGAINST ODDS Facing p. 346

JOHN YOUNGER ,, 364

FLY-FISHING — OLD STYLE „ 384

STALKING FOR A QUIET SHOT ,, 416

THE HON. GRANTLEY F. BERKELEY .... „ 446

THE HON. GRANTLEY BERKELEY'S "SMOKER". ,, 460

THOMAS TOD STODDART ,, 484

"THE OLD SHEKARRY" ,. 508

"RUSSEL OF 'THE SCOTSMAN'" ... ,. 532

SIR SAMUEL WHITE BAKER „ 554

EARL OF STAMFORD AND WARRINGTON ... ., 596

RABBIT-SHOOTING — OLD STYLE .... ,, 608

CONNOISSEURS „ 6l2

"TRIM," A FAMOUS SPANIEL . . „ 6l6

LORD ELCHO 640

vii

KINGS OF THE ROD, RIFLE, AND GUN

William Cotton Oswell

THOSE who were present at the " Speeches " in Rugby
School on June 24th, 1894, are not likely to forget that
day. For the occasion was made memorable by an
address from the man whom all Rugbeans honour and
love, the man who has immortalised their beloved school
in the best and manliest story of English public school
life ever written — " Tom Brown's School Days." Judge
Hughes chose as the subject of his address the career of
one of his contemporaries at Rugby under Arnold, whose
portrait had on the previous day been added to the
interesting gallery in which the "counterfeit presenti-
ments " of famous " Old Rugs " are preserved. The hero
for whom " Tom " Hughes, in his own strong, earnest
style, claimed the honour and respect due to a noble
specimen of English manhood was William Cotton
Oswell. To many of his hearers the name was probably
unknown, for Oswell was one of those modest heroes
who do not court publicity. " His only fault," says his
old friend Sir Samuel Baker, " was the shadowing of his
own light." But those who had the privilege of knowing
Wiiliam Cotton Oswell and were acquainted with the

VOL. II. 337 I

338 Itfnas of tbe ffiofc, ftifle, anb (Bun

story of his life knew that he was a most notable man—
a brilliant explorer, a true pioneer of civilisation, the
greatest hunter of modern times, and/ar excellence " the
Nimrod of South Africa."

Born at Leytonstone on April 27th, 1818, Oswell came
of good stock. His father was the third son of the Rev.
Thomas Oswell, of Oswestry, where the family had been
established for several generations. His mother was a
daughter of Joseph Cotton, a fine seaman and sometime
Master of the Trinity House, whose grandfather, Dr.
Nathaniel Cotton, was celebrated in his day as both a
poet and a physician.

The boy was sent to school at Rugby, of which
Thomas Arnold, greatest of schoolmasters, had just
been appointed head. Here Tom Hughes first knew
him. But Oswell was five years the senior of the author
of " Tom Brown's School Days," and was looked up to
by the small boy as one of the " Kings of the Close," the
Hector of their school Iliad. I think Oswell's contem-
poraries at Rugby must have recognised some of his
characteristics in the heroic portrait of " Young Brooke."
Judge Hughes in his address (subsequently published in
Macmillaris Magazine) recalled some of his hero's
memorable athletic feats at school : how he cleared
1 8 feet 9 inches of water over Clifton Brook— a good
21 feet with take-off and landing; how he threw the
cricket ball 105 yards ; and how his great strength
earned him the nick-name of « the Muscleman." When
he left the school at eighteen he stood six feet, was broad
in the shoulder, thin in the flank, the perfect model of an
athlete. "A rare mixture," says Judge Hughes, "of

Militant Cotton ©swell 339

kindliness and gentleness with marvellous strength,
activity, and fearlessness."

From Rugby Oswell went to Haileybury to be specially
trained for the Honourable East India Company's
service. Then he went out to India, and his old friends
and schoolfellows entirely lost sight of him. The curtain
had apparently dropped and hidden him from their
admiring eyes for ever. What they felt when that
curtain was suddenly raised and they once more had a
glimpse of their hero I will leave Judge Hughes to
describe :

" You may fancy the shock of joy which I felt, when
the lift came at last. I, like every one else, had rushed
to get Livingstone's first book on South Africa, and was
deep in the second chapter in which he details the
drought at his station, the threats of the Boers, and the
rumours of a lake and rivers and a rich country to
the north that had determined him to attempt the
crossing of the Kalahari desert which lay between, when
I came on this passage : ' I communicated my intention
to an African traveller, Colonel Steele, and he made it
known to another gentleman, a Mr. Oswell. He under-
took to defray the entire expense of guides, and fully
executed his generous intention.' Surely, thought I
that must be ' the Muscleman/ or ' Handsome Oswell,'
as we used sometimes to call him ; that's just what he
would have done. I was not long in doubt ; it was my
boyhood's hero sure enough. * Oswell was one of
Arnold's Rugby boys,' Livingstone wrote ; ' one could
see his training in always doing what was brave, and
true, and right.' Now let us see how it was that

340 ftfngs of tbe 1Rofc, IRlfle, anfc <3un

he managed to turn up in Africa at this critical
moment.

In India he spent ten years, rising rapidly to the post
of collector and judge. His station was thirty miles
from the nearest English doctor, so he added the study
of medicine to his regular work. This was heavy enough,
but did not hinder him from joining any young English-
man who came to hunt. In one of these hunts he saved
the life of the then Lord Gifford, shooting a tiger, which
his lordship, who was short-sighted, had not noticed, and
which was in the act of springing. On another of these
excursions the party encamped on ground full of malaria,
and were struck with jungle fever, of which several died.
Oswell, thanks to his splendid constitution, struggled
through, after being insensible for several days. No
sooner had he recovered consciousness than he set to
work on a pile of his district papers — complaints from
villages, reports of gang-robberies, etc. — with a wet towel
round his head. He cleared his table at the cost of a
dangerous relapse, the effects of which he could not
shake off; so he was sent to the Cape on sick-leave,
those who saw him embark doubting if he would ever
reach the Cape alive."

Oswell himself thus narrates the circumstances under
which he left India for the Cape :

" Reduced from 12 st. 2 Ibs. to 7 st. 12 Ibs. by many
attacks of Indian fever, caught during a shooting excursion
in the valley of the Bhavany River, I was sent to the Cape
as a last resource by the Madras doctors : indeed, whilst
lying in a semi-comatose state, I heard one of them declare
that I ought to have been dead a year ago ; so all thanks

TKHillfam Cotton ©swell 341

to South Africa, say I ! I gained strength by the voyage,
and shortly after reaching Capetown, hearing that a
Mr. Murray, of Lintrose, near Cupar Angus, had come
from Scotland for the purpose of making a shooting
expedition to the interior, I determined to join him.
The resolve was carried out early in the spring of 1844
(the beginning of the Cape winter) ; we started out from
Grahamstown to Colesberg, buying on the way horses,
oxen, dogs, waggons, and stores, crossed the Orange
River, and set our faces northwards. We were all bitten
in those days by Captain, afterwards Sir, Cornwallis
Harris, whose book, published about 1837, was the first
to give any notion of the capabilities of South Africa for
big game shooting, and, Harris excepted, c we were the
first that ever burst into that " sunny " sea ' as sportsmen.
Murray was an excellent, kind-hearted gentleman, rather
too old, perhaps, for an expedition of this kind, as he felt
the alternations of climate very much ; and no wonder,
for I have known the thermometer to register 92° in
the shade at 2 p.m. and 30° at 8 p.m. I was younger
and though still weak from the effects of fever, the dry
air of the uplands daily gave me vigour, and the absolute
freedom of the life was delightful to me."

Oswell and Murray were, no doubt, unaware at the
time that Gordon Cumming had started on a similar
expedition from Capetown almost simultaneously with
themselves, and was, in fact, in the big game country
before them. But it is odd that Oswell, who did not
write the record of his hunting experiences in South
Africa till 1892, when he was persuaded to publish them
in the form of a contribution to the volume on " Big

342 -Kings of tbe TCofc, IRffle, an& 6un

Game Shooting" in the Badminton Series, makes not
the slightest allusion to Gordon Gumming. And this is
the more strange because they met one another in the
course of their hunting travels. Gordon Gumming in his
work mentions the fact, and pays a generous tribute to
his rival, of whom he speaks as " Mr. Oswell, of H.E.I.C S.,
a dashing sportsman, and one of the best hunters I ever
met" But perhaps Mr. Oswell did not reciprocate the
Scotsman's feelings.

Like Gordon Gumming, Oswell paid Livingstone a visit
at Mabotse, and he mentions an incident highly credit-
able to Kafir womanhood which occurred just as they
reached that station. " The women, as is their custom,
were working in the fields — for they hoe and the men
sew — and a young man, standing by the edge of the
bush, was chatting with them. A lioness sprang on him
and was carrying him off, when one of the women ran
after her, and catching her by the tail, was dragged for
some little distance. Hampered with the man in her
mouth and the woman behind her, the lioness slackened
her pace, whereupon her assailant straddled over her
back and hit her across the nose and head with a heavy,
short-handled hoe till she dropped her prey and slunk
into cover. This man was her husband ! Would Mrs-
Smith do as much for Mr. Smith? Could she do
more ? "

Not long afterwards Oswell had himself a very nasty
experience with a lioness, which had come down with
her cub to drink at the springs. The dogs had been
slipped and had brought the lioness to bay. " I got
within thirty yards," writes Oswell, "but from the

Militant Cotton ©swell 343

thickness of the bush could neither see them nor her
I shifted my position once or twice in the hope of
making out what was going on, standing up in my
stirrups, looking for an opening that I might dismount
and get a shot. Suddenly the barking of the dogs and
snapping snarl of the lioness ceased, and I thought she
had broken bay and gone on ; but in a second I heard
a roar on the horse's right quarter, in a different
direction from that into which I had been peering, and
looking round, saw her with her mouth open, clearing
a rather high patch of bush twenty yards from me.
There was no time to get off the horse and no pos-
sibility of a shot from his back, for the charge was on
his right flank, and you cannot shoot to the right. I
did the only thing that I could — jammed the spurs in
and tried to make a gallop of it ; but my follower was
too close, and before I could get up full speed I heard
her strike the ground heavily twice in her bound, and
with the third she sat up behind me. She jumped
short, however, and failed to get hold with her mouth,
but drove her front claws well into the horse's quarters
and a hind foot underneath him, and so clung, but only
for a moment ; for the poor beast, maddened by fright
and pain, and unable to stand up under the extra weight*
became unmanageable, threw his head up, and swerved
under the projecting bough of a tree, which, striking me
on the chest, swept me from the saddle against the
lioness, and we rolled to the ground together. A sharp
rap on the head from my having fallen on a stump
stunned me for a minute or two, and I woke to life to
find John kneeling alongside of me, asking me if I was

344 feints of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, anfc (Bun

dead, which was a needless question, seeing that I
was at the time sitting up, rubbing my eyes. ' What's
the matter ? ' I said ; but at the same instant I heard
the dogs again baying fifty yards off, and recollection
came back. Rising to my feet, I staggered like a
drunken man, rather than walked towards the sound,
and propped myself up against a tree, for I was still
weak and dazed ; indistinctly I could occasionally see
both dogs and lioness. Presently something broke
through the thinner part of the bush, and I fired and
wounded one of the dogs. And the lioness, tired by
the protracted worrying, and startled, perhaps, by the
sound of the guns, bounded off and escaped without
a shot. We caught the horse four miles off, and I
sewed up and cured his wounds ; but he was never
fit for anything again, bolting dangerously at a stump
or other dark object."

An even worse encounter, for the horse, at any rate,
was that which Oswell had with a buffalo. Here is his
own account of it :

" Two days after leaving the camping ground, whilst
the waggons were moving slowly through the low bush,
three bulls crossed the line of march. I was on my
horse Superior, and with a shout to Murray that I
intended to make sure of the bag this time, galloped
after them, and singling one out, got alongside of him
within five feet and fired. He pitched upon his head
and lay perfectly still. Making sure he was dead, I
would not give him the second barrel, and turned the
horse to ride after the two others, which were still in
view ; but before I could get my animal into his stride,

TKIUlliam Cotton ©swell 345

the wounded beast sprang up and struck him heavily.
I felt the thud, but the horse did not fall, and cantered
on for twenty yards, when the whisk of his tail dabbled
my trousers with blood, and on getting off I found a
hole thirty inches deep, and nearly wide enough to
get into, in his flank, for the horn had been driven in
up to the base. The bull was too weak to follow up
the attack, and died where he stood ; the horse crawled
on for a few yards, and then, seeing it was a hopeless
case, I put a ball through his head."

Like Gordon Gumming and all other South African
hunters, Oswell had a great respect for the buffalo f
" the bravest and most determined of all animals when
wounded and at bay. His pluck is splendid : no single
lion will face him, though, attacked by stealth or numbers,
he occasionally falls a prey." A remarkable instance
of the buffalo's courage and power is given by Major
Vardon, Oswell's comrade in his second South African
expedition, in the following letter to Dr. Livingstone :

" My South African Journal is now before me, and I
have got hold of the account of the lion and buffalo affair ;
here it is :

' September i$th, 1846. — Oswell and I were riding
this afternoon along the banks of the Limpopo, when
a water-buck started in front of us. I dismounted, and
was following it through the jungle, when three buffaloes
got up, and, after going a little distance, stood still, and
the nearest bull turned round and looked at me. A ball
from the two-ouncer crashed into his shoulder, and they
all three made off. Oswell and I followed as soon as I

346 -fcinas of tbe IRofc, TCtfle, aito 6un

had reloaded, and when we were in sight of the buffalo,
and gaining on him at every stride, three lions leapt on
the unfortunate brute ; he bellowed most lustily as he
kept up a kind of running fight ; but he was, of course,
soon overpowered and pulled down. We had a fine
view of the struggle, and saw the lions on their hind
legs, tearing away with teeth and claws in the most
ferocious style. We crept up within thirty yards of the
lions, and, kneeling down, blazed away. My rifle was
a single barrel, and I had no spare gun. One lion fell
dead almost on the buffalo ; he had merely time to turn
towards us, seize a bush with his teeth, and drop dead
with the stick in his jaws. The second made off imme-
diately ; and the third raised his head, coolly looked
round for a moment, then went on tearing and biting at
the carcase as hard as ever. We retired a short distance
to load, then again advanced and fired. The lion went
off, but a ball that he received ought to have stopped
him, as it went clean through his shoulder blade. He
was followed up and killed, after having charged several
times. Both lions were males. It is not often that one
bags a brace of lions and a bull buffalo in about ten
minutes. It was an exciting adventure, and I shall
never forget it.'

Such, my dear Livingstone, is the plain unvarnished
account. The buffalo had of course gone close to where
the lions were lying down for the day ; and they, seeing
him lame and bleeding, thought the opportunity too
good a one to be lost.

Ever yours,

FRANK VARDON."

Cotton ©swell 347

Oswell says that the buffalo made a far more desperate
fight than Vardon's description would suggest ; that he
swung one lion completely off his legs, as you would
swing a child by his arms, and that had he been un-
wounded he would, even with the odds of three to one
against him, have probably worsted his assailants.

The lion has suffered considerably in reputation since
he has been exploited by European hunters, and some
of them have expressed the supremest contempt for him
as a cowardly, sneaking brute — a regular cur. But
Oswell does not join in such sweeping condemnation of
the lion. " As a rule," he says, " if you will take my
advice, you will hold as straight as you can when you
pit yourself against a lion ; and if you accept all chances
without picking and choosing, you'll now and again find
yourself in a warm corner. I do not think his rush is
so quick or so resolute as a tiger's, and he has a much
better head to hit ; still he looks ugly enough when,
with mane standing out as if electrified, and with a short
barking roar, he comes down to the charge. He will
not, except when hard pressed by hunger or when accus-
tomed to feed off human carcases lying about after
fights and raids, attack man in the daytime unprovoked.
A surly beast, awakened suddenly from sleep or dis-
turbed while feeding, might be nasty ; but he nearly
always retreats before man, for the fear and dread
•of one of Noah's family are still a tradition with
wild beasts."

It is not the lion, however, who is the king of beasts.
The monarch of the forest and plain is a far mightier
brute. Who and what he is Oswell describes in a

348 ifcfnGS of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, an& 6un

passage so admirable in spirit and style that I cannot
refrain from quoting it :

"There have been discussions as to who is king
among the beasts, and to this day the lion is generally
given the title. But look down that narrow game-
track A lion is coming up it from the water. As
he turns the curve in the winding path he sees that a
rhinoceros or buffalo is coming down to drink. He
slinks into the bush, lies very low, gives them the road,
lets them pass well by, and then resumes his interrupted
way. If this is the king, he is exceedingly courteous to
his subjects — one might even think just a little in awe
of some of them. King of the cats in Africa he may be
and is ; but king of the beasts he is not.

Come with me to a desert pool some clear moonlight
night, when the shadows are deep and sharply cut, and
the moon herself, in the dry, cloudless air, looks like
a ball. All is nearly as bright as day, only the light is
silver, not gold. Sit down on that rock and watch the
thirsty animals as they drink— buffalo, rhinoceros,
antelope, quagga, and occasionally, if the water is
large, lions too. But what has frightened the antelope
and quagga that they throw their heads up for a second
and fade away into the shadows? The other beasts,
too, are listening, and now leave the sides of the pond.
Nothing but the inevitable, irrepressible jackal, that
gamin amongst wild things, remains in view. As yet
your dull human ears have caught no sound, but very
soon the heavy tread and low rumbling note of an
oncoming herd of elephants reaches you. They are
at the water. The jackals have sat down with their

TKHilliam Cotton ©swell 349

tails straight out behind them, but not another creature
is to be seen. The king drinks. Not a sound is heard.
He squirts the water over his back, makes the whole
pool muddy, and retires solemnly, leaving his subjects,
who now gather round, to make the best of what he has
fouled. This is the king in the opinion of the beasts.
You may think him a nervous monarch, subject to
panic, and I do not know that you are not right ; but
he has weight in the animal world, you may be assured."

And to think that the man who could write like this
was within an ace of going to his grave without leaving
any written record whatever of his wonderful and
thrilling adventures ! It was fortunate indeed that
when he was between seventy and eighty, but two
years before his death, his old friend Sir Samuel Baker
persuaded him to put his experiences on paper, and
Mr. Norton Longman at the same time promised to find
a place for them in the Badminton volume on " Big
Game." To that volume, besides Oswald, such dis-
tinguished hunters as Sir Samuel Baker, Mr. Clive
Phillipps-Wolley, Mr. F. J. Jackson, Mr. Warburton
Pike, and Mr. F. C. Selous have contributed, with the
result that it is, to my thinking, the most fascinating
book of sport that I have ever come across.

But to come back to the elephant. For the
marvellous instances of his sagacity and intelligence
given by Oswell, and the exciting sport which he
affords, I must refer the reader to the Badminton
volume. I can only find space for the following
remarkable escape from Behemoth's vengeance which
Livingstone chronicles in his " Missionary Travels " :

fangs of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc (Bun

" I may here add," writes the Doctor, " an adventure
with an elephant of one who has had more narrow escapes
than any man living, but whose modesty has always
prevented him from publishing anything about himself.
When we were on the banks of the Zouga in 1850,
Mr. Oswell pursued one of these animals into the dense,
thick thorny bushes met with on the margin of that
river, and to which the elephant usually flees for safety.
He followed through a narrow pathway, by lifting up
some of the branches, and forcing his way through the
rest ; but when he had just got over this difficulty, he
saw the elephant, whose tail he had but got glimpses
of before, now rushing towards him. There was then
no time to lift up branches, so he tried to force the
horse through them. He could not effect a passage ;
and as there was but an instant between the attempt
and failure, the hunter tried to dismount, but in doing
this, one foot was caught by a branch, and the spur
drawn along the animal's flank ; this made him spring
away and throw the rider on the ground with his face
to the elephant, which being in full chase, still went on.
Mr. Oswell saw the huge fore foot about to descend
on his legs, parted them, and drew in his breath as
if to resist the pressure of the other foot, which he
expected would next descend on his body. He saw
the whole length of the under part of the enormous
brute pass over him; the horse got away safely. I
have heard of but one other authentic instance in
which an elephant went over a man without injury,
and, for any one who knows the nature of the bush in
which this occurred, the very thought of an encounter

Militant Cotton ©swell 351

in it with such a foe is appalling. As the thorns are
placed in pairs on opposite sides of the branches, and
these turn round on being pressed against, one pair
brings the other exactly into the position in which it
must pierce the intruder. They cut like knives. Horses
dread this bush extremely ; indeed many of them refuse
to face its thorns."

Livingstone also tells the story of Oswell's thrilling
adventure with a white rhinoceros which nearly cost the
daring hunter his life. But as Oswell himself has since
told the story far more graphically than Livingstone,
I will give it in his own words :

"But the saddest of days was at hand. I had one
pre-eminently good horse, the very pick of all I ever
had in Africa — fearless, fast, and most sweet-tempered.
Returning to camp one evening with a number of
Kafirs, tired and hungry, after a long day's spooring
elephants, which we never overtook, I saw a long-horned
mahoho (rhinoceros) standing close to the path. The
length of his horn and the hunger of my men induced
me to get off and fire at him. The shot was rather
too high, and he ran off. I was in the saddle in a
moment, and passing the wounded beast, pulled up
ten yards on one side of the line of his retreat, firing
the second barrel as he went by from my horse, when,
instead of continuing his course, he stopped short, and,
pausing an instant, began to walk deliberately towards
me. The movement was so utterly unlooked for, as the
white rhinoceros nearly always makes off, that, until he
was within five yards, I sat quite still, expecting him
to fall, thinking he was in his * flurry.' My horse seemed

352 "fcinss of tbe 1Rot>, TCffle, an& (Butt

as much surprised at the behaviour of the old mahoho
as I was myself, and did not immediately answer the
rein, and the moment's hesitation cost him his life and
me the very best horse I ever had or knew ; for, when
I got his head round, a thick bush was against his chest,
and before I could free him, the rhinoceros, still at the
walk, drove his horn in under his flank and fairly threw
both him and his rider into the air. As he turned over
I rolled off and fell in some way under the stirrup-iron,
which scalped my head for four inches in length and
breadth. I scrambled to my knees and saw the horn
of the rhinoceros actually within the bend of my leg ;
but the animal wavered, and, with the energy of self-
preservation, I sprang to my feet, intending to run, for
my gun was unloaded and had fallen from my hand.
Had I been allowed to do so this story might never
have been told, for, dizzy as I was from the fall, I should
have been easily caught. Tottering a step or two I
tripped and came to the ground a little to the right of
the creature's track. He passed within a foot without
touching me. As I rose for the second time my after-
rider came up with another gun. I half pulled him
from his pony, and mounting it, caught and killed the
rhinoceros. The horn now hangs over the entrance
to my front door. Frank [Vardon] found me sitting
under a bush, hatless, and holding up the piece of my
scalp with the blood streaming down my face, or, as
he afterwards described it to Livingstone, * I saw that
beggar Oswell sitting under a bush holding on his head.' "
But this was not the only time Oswell was tossed
by a rhinoceros, he enjoyed that experience on another

TUlflUam Cotton ©swell 353

occasion. He was on foot, and had to run for dear life.
But in thirty yards from the start the rhino was at
his heels ; in another instant the horned snout came
lapping round his thigh, and he remembered nothing
more till he found himself on his horse supported by a
native, with his head still swimming and a deep gash
in his thigh eight inches long, which had only missed
the femoral artery by a hair's breath.

Oswell's association with Livingstone in the expedi-
tion which resulted in the discovery of Lake Ngami
is thus referred to by the great missionary traveller :

" I communicated my intention to an African traveller,
Colonel Steele, then aide-de-camp to the Marquis of
Tweedale at Madras, and he made it known to two
other gentlemen, whose friendship we had gained during
their African travel, namely Major Vardon and Mr.
Osvvell. All of these gentlemen were so enamoured with
African hunting and African discovery, that the two
former must have envied the latter his good fortune in
being able to leave India to undertake afresh the
pleasures and pains of desert life. I believe Mr. Oswell
came from his high position, at a very considerable
pecuniary sacrifice, with no other end in view but to
extend the boundaries of geographical knowledge.
Before I knew of his coming I had arranged that
the payment of the guides furnished by Sechele should
be the loan of my waggon to bring back whatever ivory
he might obtain from the chief at the lake. When
at last Mr. Oswell came, bringing Mr. Murray with
him, he undertook to defray the entire expenses of
the guides, and fully executed his generous intention."

VOL. II. 2

354 Hangs of tfoe 1Rot>, IRffle, anfc (Bun

Livingstone always insisted on associating Oswell's
name with his own as joint-discoverer of the Zambesi,
and his admiration for his friend's prowess as a hunter
is shown in the following passage:

" Some mistake had happened in the arrangement
with Mr. Oswell, for we met him on the Zouga on our
return, and he devoted the rest of this season to elephant
hunting, at which the natives universally declare he
is the greatest adept that ever came into the country.
He hunted without dogs. It is remarkable that this
lordly animal is so harassed by the presence of a few
yelping curs as to be quite incapable of attending to
man. He makes awkward attempts to crush them by
falling on his knees ; and sometimes places his fore-
head against a tree ten inches in diameter ; glancing
on one side of the tree and then on the other, as if he
thought thereby to catch his enemies. The only danger
the huntsman has to apprehend is the dogs running
towards him, and thereby leading the elephant to their
master. Mr. Oswell has been known to kill four large
old male elephants a day. The value of the ivory in
these cases would be one hundred guineas. We had
reason to be proud of his success, for the inhabitants
conceived from it a very high idea of English courage
and when they wished to flatter me would say, ' If you,
were not a missionary you would be just like Oswell ;
you would not hunt with dogs either.' When in 1852
we came to the Cape, my black coat eleven years out of
fashion, and without a penny of salary to draw, we
found that Mr. Oswell had most generously ordered
an outfit for the half-naked children, which cost about

TKHtlliam Cotton ©swell 355

2OO/, and presented it to us, saying he thought Mrs.
Livingstone had a right to the game of her own
preserves."

Any sketch of William Cotton Oswell's career which
contained no reference to his faithful henchman John
Thomas would be incomplete indeed. " John Thomas,"
writes his sometime master, " was an Africander, born at
the Cape, of parents probably slaves ; but as a grand
specimen of manhood, good nature, faithfulness, and
cheerful endurance, I never met his equal white or black.
Plucky to a fault, he was the least quarrelsome of men,
the life and light of our camp-fires, and the pet of the
Kafirs, who seemed at once to understand his quiet,
unpretending nature and always made their requests to
me through ' bono Johnny ' ! "

When Oswell and Livingstone made their journey in
search of Lake 'Ngami there was a critical moment at
which the two explorers, having reached the lake and
being resolved to press on for fresh discoveries, found
their followers unwilling to accompany them farther.
The men had fulfilled their agreement ; they were not
bound to go beyond the lake, and they were timorous of
unknown dangers ahead. " Then," says Oswell, " out
stepped John, and speaking in Dutch, as he always did
when his feelings were touched, though he at other times
spoke English perfectly, said, ' What you eat I can eat,
where you sleep I can sleep, where you go I will go : I
will come with you.' The effect was instantaneous. ' We
will all go/ was the cry. Do you think after that it was
much matter to us whether our brother was black or
white ? "

356 IKinas of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anb 6un

" Time went on," to continue the story in Oswell's
own words, which cannot be improved upon ; " I was
obliged to return to England. John accompanied me to
the Cape. I told him in part how I valued his services,
and asked him if I could in any way repay my debt of
gratitude. I had taught him to read in the bush, but
that was the only good I had ever done him. His
answer came, after some hesitation. He had heard so
much of England that he should like of all things to go
with me there. Two days later we were on board ship
together. He, as usual, was everything to everybody—
helping the steward, attending the sick ladies, nursing
the babies ; the idol of the sailors, to whom he told
stories of bush life, the adored of the nurses. John, with
all his virtues, was a flirt — the admirer and admired of
all womankind. On arriving in England, I left him in
London and went down to my brother's. He hesitated
about my henchman, thinking a real live black man
would hardly suit the household of a country clergyman.
But his coachman fell sick. Could John drive? I
should think so. He was the best eight-in-hander in
Capetown. Down he came, and in half an hour he
was perfectly established in the family. My brother
declared that he never had such a coachman, and was
very kind to him, timidly at first. The cook taught him
writing, the lady's-maid went on with his reading. I shall
not forget meeting him with the two women, one on
each arm, chatting with them in the most accomplished
style. His stay in England was limited to six months,
as we had agreed, and he went back to the Cape with a
friend of mine, who wrote most highly of him.

Milltam Cotton ©swell 357

Two years passed away : I was a wanderer again ;
and at the beginning of the Crimean War found myself
carrying secret service money to Colonel, now Field-
Marshal, Lintorn Simmons, political agent at Shumla.
On my return to the coast I fell in with a cavalry
regiment and the 6oth Rifles encamped near Devna, a
few miles from Varna. A sergeant from the latter
regiment saluted as I passed and asked for news from
the front. Silistria was then besieged. I turned myself
half round to the right in my saddle to talk with him,
and presently felt a hand very gently, lovingly laid on
my left foot. John stood by my stirrup, his face a
picture of affectionate triumph at having caught me
again. He had taken service with an officer of the 6oth.
We threw ourselves down under a bush and renewed
old memories. The Major, near whose tent we were,
called John, and rinding from him who I was, most
courteously entreated me, telling me how beloved John
was by the regiment and how well, through him, they
knew my name. I had letters to deliver at Constanti-
nople and went on. John, I believe, sickened and was
invalided to England ; but for two or three years I heard
no more of him, for I was away in South America and
elsewhere. Shortly after my return a letter came to me,
asking me if I could recommend a black man named
' John Thomas ' as a butler ! He referred the writer to
me. I was obliged to say I knew nothing of his
capabilities in this line, but added that as a staunch
ally in a fight with an elephant and an absolutely trust-
worthy man in all the relations of life (save that of a
butler, in which I had not tried him) I could most highly

ass frtn00 of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, ant) Gun

recommend him. My friend engaged him, and had an
excellent servant, for such was John's power of adapting
himself to circumstances that nothing ever came amiss
to him. But the dark day was coming on ; and in the
midst of his affectionate service, beloved from the head
of the house to the youngest child, trusted and never
found wanting, always ready and always willing, this
fine, noble fellow died. I heard of his sickness too late
to see him alive on earth, but I trust that master and
man may hereafter meet as brothers in Heaven."

It was in November, 1855, as soon as the fall of
Sebastopol had closed the door to adventure in the
Crimea that Oswell sailed for South America. On
board the mail-steamer he met his future wife, Miss
Rivaz, who was going out to her sister Lady Lees,
the wife of the Chief Justice of the Bahamas. After
wandering through Chili, the West Indies, and the
United States, he came home, renewed his acquaintance
with Miss Agnes Rivaz, who had also returned, and they
were married. From that time he settled down to the
quiet life of an English country gentleman, built himself
a house (Hillside) at Groombridge, near Tunbridge Wells,
which he filled with his African trophies, and found a
sphere for his energy in his parish and neighbourhood.
Every neighbour who needed him became his special care.
" To the poor," Judge Hughes tells us, " he was not a
mere benefactor, but each man's, and woman's, and
child's personal friend." His Indian experience here
came into play. Every little ailment or accident was
a certain summons to " the Master," as he was generally
called ; and if remonstrated with he would smile and

Militant Cotton ©swell 359

say "there was something in being able to send for a
doctor whom they had not to pay." He was an
enthusiastic gardener, and the whole neighbourhood was
stocked with flowers and plants from Hillside. His
great strength remained to the end. One day, calling at
an old friend's, he found him very ill, and his wife and
son consulting how he could be moved. In a moment
he was in Oswell's arms, carried, and placed gently in
the place they had prepared for him. The Paris
Geographical Society had sent him their gold medal, and
he was made a Fellow of the English Society ; but,
writes Francis Galton, another African explorer, and
admirer of Oswell, " He was too shy and modest, and
could not be induced to take that prominent share in
those stirring times of the Geographical Society which
was his right, and which he was often urged to take." In
the same way, though renowned among his acquaintances
as a most graphic and brilliant raconteur, he steadily
resisted the offers of publishers and the persuasions of
friends to take the public into his confidence in print,
till he was induced to contribute to the Badminton
volume I have referred to. He had scarcely finished
those fascinating pages when his summons came, and on
May ist, 1893, he died at the age of seventy-five.

What William Cotton Oswell was as a hunter the
incidents already given will have amply indicated. But
I will add the testimony of one or two who knew him
to his prowess. Mr. Horace Waller, of the Oxford
Mission, writes : " Livingstone, who knew no fear himself,
spoke of Oswell's desperate courage in hunting as quite
wonderful ; not but what he suffered from it to the day

360 ftfn0s' of tbe 1Rofc, IRtfle, anfc Gun

of his death, the result of an engagement with a
rhinoceros. Oswell would, for instance, ride up alongside
of a hyaena, and unloosing his stirrup leather while at
full gallop, brain the beast with the heavy stirrup."
Again, Sir Samuel Baker, in my opinion the greatest
sportsman of the century, says : " His extreme gentleness,
utter recklessness of danger, and complete unselfishness,
made him friends everywhere, but attracted the native
mind to a degree of adoration. He was the Nimrod of
South Africa, without a rival and without an enemy, the
greatest hunter ever known in modern times, the truest
friend and most thorough example of an English gentle-
man." Sir Samuel adds : " I have always regarded Oswell
as the perfection of a Nimrod. Six feet in height,
sinewy and muscular, but nevertheless light in weight,
he was not only powerful but enduring. A handsome
face with an eagle glance, but full of kindness and
fearlessness, bespoke the natural manliness of character
which attracted him to the wild adventures of his early
life."

Oswell was a first-rate horseman, and all his shooting
was from the saddle or by dismounting for the shot after
he had run his game to bay. His favourite weapon,
with which he did nearly all his work, was a lo-gauge
double-barrel Purdey smooth bore, weighing 10 Ibs.,
and carrying a spherical ball wrapped in either waxed
kid or linen patch, with a charge of six drachms of fine-
grained powder. In days before breech-loaders such a
gun could be easily and rapidly loaded on horseback,
the powder-charge being made up separately in the form
of a paper cartridge, the end of which could be bitten off

Militant Cotton ©swell 361

and the contents thrust into the barrel together with the
paper covering. It shot very accurately, with but little
recoil, up to fifty yards, and it was seldom that Oswell
fired at a longer range. For his method was to ride up
close to his game, and, regardless of the increased personal
risk, deliver his shot at a distance of ten or fifteen paces,
when it was sure to prove fatal.

One other trait in his character I would note before
I leave him, and that was his unfailing patience with the
natives and consideration of their feelings. " I never,"
he says, " had occasion to raise a hand against a native,
and my foot only once, when I found a long, lazy fellow
poking his paw into my sugar-tin." The result was that
the black men loved and respected him, and he was able
to boast that he had never lost anything by theft.
Valuable tusks of elephants, shot eighty miles from the
waggons, were always punctiliously delivered to him-
And yet he never submitted to an insult and insisted
upon having proper respect paid to him. " One chief,
and one only," he says, " wanted to hector a little, but he
soon gave it up. And with the rest of the potentates
and people generally I was certainly a persona grata, for
I filled their stomachs, and thus, as they assured me, in
some mysterious way made their hearts white." In his
later years he wrote : " I am sorry now for all the fine
old beasts I have killed ; but I was young then, there
was excitement in the work, I had large numbers of men
to feed, and if these are not considered sound excuses
for slaughter, the regret is lightened by the knowledge
that every animal, save three elephants, was eaten by
man and so put to a good use."

362 fangs of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anfc (Bun

William Cotton Oswell was the last Englishman left
who could describe from personal experience that
wonderful South Africa of fifty years ago, with its vast
solitudes untrodden by European foot, and its wide
plains of pasture-land peopled with myriads of wild
animals. Boers, gold-seekers, diamond-miners, experi-
mental farmers have utterly changed the face of the
country which Oswell found teeming with a hundred
varieties of big game. Houses stand where he once shot
elephants ; railways have already begun to whistle and
scream through his old hunting-fields. You may travel
for days without seeing a solitary wild creature where
Oswell saw elephants, lions, buffaloes, rhinoceroses, and
antelopes without number. But, though the game has
gone, there still lingers among the Kafirs and bushmen
the memory of the great white hunter who was as kind
as he was brave, who faced a fighting chieftain or a
charging elephant with the same fearless composure,
who was never known to raise his hand in anger against
the humblest of his servants, who had that true nobility
which rises superior to caste and recognises that manli-
ness, courage, and faithfulness, wherever found, form a
bond of universal brotherhood.

John Younger

The Shoemaker of St. Boswell's

"BROTHERS of the angle" recognise no distinction of
rank. He who would be a king among them must be
" king of his own two hands," king in the good old
Carlylean sense of " cunning-man, knowing-man," the
sense in which I have used the word in these pages.
And a king of the craft assuredly was John Younger,
of St. Boswell's, albeit his throne was but a shoemaker's
bench. Socially he stuck to his last and never rose
above it. Intellectually he could claim equality with
the best who came to buy his famous fishing-boots or
learn from him the lore of fly-dressing. He had all
the fine, fierce, Scottish independence of John Knox>
with a kindliness and charity, a love of Nature and of
man, which the grim reformer never had. He had a
poet's soul and saw all things with a poet's eye. And
yet withal he had his full share of shrewd, Scottish
common sense, and as an expert, practical angler there
was none to equal him on the banks of bonnie Tweed.
To Englishmen his name is probably almost unknown ;
but among Scotsmen, and especially Scots anglers, his
fame was wide-spread — you would find few, if you

363

364 "Rings of tbe IRofc, Hifle, anfc Gun

travelled from Berwick to Aberdeen, who had not heard
of the "souter Johnny" of St Boswell's — whilst in
his own neighbourhood John Younger was reverenced
as an oracle.

" I was born," says John, in his Autobiography, " on
the 5th day of July, 1785, at Langnewton, in the parish of
Ancrum, then a considerable village of the older fashion,
now almost swept from the face of the earth, a picture
of the Auburn so beautifully described by Goldsmith."
But John came of good old stock : his great-grand-
father was lineally descended from the Youngers of
Haggerstone, Northumberland, an ancient and reputable
line, "so that I might," he writes, "trace family as
far back as any duke in Christendom were it worth
while so to honour men who have had too much world-
disqualifying honesty or too little of the Border-raid
principle to rob, thieve, and secure to their descendants
lands, cattle, and other plunder." From which the
reader will gather that John Younger was of those who
" smile at the claims of long descent," who would look
scornfully at the pedigree of Macallum More himself,
and say, in his sturdy, Radical, defiant way:

Your pride is yet no mate for mine,
Too proud to care from whence I came.

John's grandfather was a gardener in England, and
must have had a good berth, for he saved upwards of
£900, with which he purposed starting a nursery garden
at Ancrum, but was unfortunately diverted from what
would have proved a lucrative investment, and persuaded
by his newly wed English wife to put his money in

"" S

3obn Bouncer 365

a brewery. The failure of the brewery sent the rash
speculator back to his gardening again.

The father of John Younger was by trade a shoe-
maker, and during the time he was journeyman at
Oxenham " kept the pass against all Border competitors
in putting the stone, wrestling, and jumping " — feats of
athletic prowess which his son affected to despise, though
he inherited much of his father's great stature and
strength, and was himself no mean athlete. But this
was one of many irritating traits in John's character
which I shall touch upon presently.

John was the youngest of a family of six, and as he
appeared to have more brains than the rest his parents
cherished the fond hope that they might live to see him
"wag his pow in a poopit" — the highest ambition of
the Scottish peasant and artisan.

But the Fates were against poor John. " Mason's
spelling-book," he writes, " with eight rules for syllabic
pronunciation, gave the high finish to my grand course
of education? At the age of nine res angusta domi
compelled the lad to put on a small leathern apron
and commence, under his father's tuition, the craft of
shoemaking, " hoping that in time improved circum-
stances might enable them to give him more schooling
and make a clergyman of him."

But these " improved circumstances " never came, and
it was decreed that John Younger should begin and end
his days as a shoemaker. Fortunately, however, Nature
had endowed him with a love of sport which enabled
him to find solace for his lowly lot and gild his dull
life with many golden hours.

366 frtn0s of tbe 1Rofc, TCifle, anfc 6un

The sporting instincts of the young shoemaker were
first stirred by the exploits of two notorious poachers ;
and, indeed, John not only consorted with poachers, but
was a bit of a poacher himself. He regarded poaching,
in fact, as an exciting and adventurous pastime, all the
more alluring because it brought him into collision with
laws which he deemed tyrannical and unjust. In short,
his feeling towards poaching and poachers was much
the same as that entertained a hundred years ago all
along the southern coast of England for smuggling
and smugglers. One of these poachers, John Thomson,
was a successful forger of false coin, and, unsuspected
by his neighbours, carried on his illegal minting in his
tumble-down cottage, which bore all the external
appearance of abject poverty. "And so," John
Younger remarks, "John lived freely, though he had
discontinued all visible employment and only poached
for pleasure." Apparently the radical young shoe-
maker thought uttering base coin quite as venial an
offence as poaching.

The other poacher who had a marked influence over
Younger's early life was of a different type. His name
was George Gray, and he was the son of a respectable
farmer. John describes him as "the most personable
and athletic fellow I have ever seen in life," and
dwells with loving admiration on his wonderful wood-
craft, his magical power over animals, and his deeds
of prowess on the moors, "where, with one dog (a
trained colley) and gun he achieved feats of slaughter
equal to what we now see boasted of in the newspapers
by lordly shooting parties with all their appliances and

3obn founder 367

means to boot." He was of a social turn, this hero of
John's boyhood, and a proud moment it was for the lad
when he was graciously allowed to follow the idol of his
worship in his search for hares and rabbits, which he only
shot for their skins, leaving the carcases to whomsoever
cared to pick them up.

In due course John became owner of an old fowling-
piece, and emulated the poaching exploits of his hero, for
he calmly tells us in his Autobiography : " I think I have
shot every kind of bird and beast of the district here
excepting a fox, a badger, and an otter, a kingfisher, and
a wild goose, of which in all my rambles I never got
a chance."

Another Thomson, but of a very different sort from
the old poacher, had also a remarkable influence over
John Younger — to wit, James Thomson the poet, a copy
of whose " Seasons " fell by accident into the hands of
the Scottish lad. The blank verse bothered him at first,
" being neither prose nor rhyme," but he mastered the
harmony and the meaning after a stiff struggle. Then,
to quote his own words, " the whole opened up like a
new sun risen on the horizon of my mental vision. And
soon the solitary woods around responded to the hymn
which crowns ' The Seasons,' as there, when alone, I sang
it out in gusts of rapture."

Perhaps one reason for John Younger's delight in
' The Seasons ' was that he found the author to be as
keen an angler as himself. For no one can read the
passage on fly-fishing in " Spring " without feeling
convinced that "Jemmy" was a master of the art.
Nowhere in English literature is there a more graphic

368 ifcfnss of tbe 1Rob, IRffle, an& (Bun

and sportsmanlike picture of the capture of a trout —
from the first rise to the final landing after long and
skilful play.

James Thomson, then, opened to John Younger —

those realms of gold
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

It was like the revelation of Homer to John Keats on
reading Chapman's translation of the Iliad. l( From this
time," writes John, in his Autobiography, " all subjects
of amusement seemed in my view to sink into nothing
compared with poetry."

But a horrible doubt took hold of him as to whether
this enthusiasm might not proceed from some soft, un-
manly feeling. This doubt, however, was dispelled by an
encounter with Andrew Smail, a big, hulking farmer's
lad who was the local bully and cock of the walk. John
felt that he, too, had stout thews and sinews, and he was
minded to take the conceit out of Master Smail. The
conflict was brief and decisive. In less than five minutes
the young cobbler-poet sealed up his adversary's eyes
and left him blinded and beaten.

Then, to allay his warlike excitement, John sallied
out to the burn and there " gumped out half a stone of
speckled trouts." Already he had found that angling
was a panacea for all troubles, that he could forget all
the worries of " this weary, unintelligible world " when he
had a rod in his hand and the trout were rising. And
in after life, when the Tweed salmon knew his skill and
could not resist his crafty lures, the sport was the solace
of his existence, in the enjoyment of it all Fortune's

Jobn I£oun0er 369

hard knocks and bitter slights were forgotten. But I
am glad to say that John Younger was free from the
cant which so many anglers have unctuously repeated ad
nauseam from the days of Izaak Walton to our own—
the cant which claims for angling a moral and intellectual
influence over its votaries which no other sport can
exercise. Listen, you sickly iterators of the fancies of
the London linen-draper, to the words of the manly
shoemaker of St. Boswell's.

" No one who inclines to go a-fishing can reasonably
suppose the pursuit any way very particular in point of
morality — let him allege what he may, we believe the
angler foregoes such considerations. We view the
matter simply in this way, that every man is so much
of a boy (which may often be the best part of his
character) that he goes out a-fishing because he had got
into an early habit of so going, and finds amusement in
it preferable to walking, or even to riding, should he be
master of a horse ; or else he pursues it, fain to find
recreation in that in which he perceives his neighbour so
well pleased, just as he would go a-quoiting, a-cricketing,
or a-curling. To talk of following it on a principle of
love or admiration of field scenery, is surely either a
pretence or an illusion of his own mind ; because every
staunch angler may be said to leave his admiration of
the picturesque, the beautiful, and romantic in nature, as
something to be particularly kept in mind, returned to
and enjoyed ' at a more convenient season ' — as governor
Felix did his taste for the most sublime doctrines of
Christianity. I have felt that I could admire the beauti-
ful in landscape as much as my neighbours, perhaps any

VOL. II. 3

370 Ikfn05 of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, ant> (Bun

of them, yet never could find either taste or time for
the disposition of sentiment while sallying out on a
fishing excursion ; and however romantically beautiful
the branch overhung its shadow in the water, I no sooner
hanked my hooks on it than, if within reach, crash down
it came, whilst a wish hurried over my mind that all
river-skirting trees were removed. I would hardly
except the bordering willows of Dryburgh, or those
skirting the waters of Babylon, where the Israelites
hung their harps in the days of their captivity.

By no poetical feeling whatever should the free swing
of line be interrupted. Let sketchers put imaginary
trees in their landscapes as they please, yet such are
ever the true angler's real feelings, disguise them as he
may ; keep treey rock> and ivy full line-swing from the
margin of lake and stream. One truth is worth fifty
of these fishing authors' sickly preachments. If our
tractates on the subject should never sell, let us not
heap disgrace on our own poor head by feigning sanctity
we never feel. Such would be worse than prevalent
superstition or common hypocrisy. I can see no more
sentimentality in angling for fish than in the rural sports
of Fox or Otter hunting. The excitement is kept up
by the solicitude of success, and this the same in fishing
for reputation in the sport as in fishing for a dinner ; the
true angler being always intent in the pursuit, however
passive he may appear."

There! that's frank and true. And I should have
liked to grip the Scottish cobbler's horny hand and tell
him that I admire the vigorous strokes with which he
thus " nails a lie to the counter."

Jobn Jtjounaer 371

There came over John Younger at this period of his
life an intense yearning to meet with some living brother-
poet to whom he could pour out his confidences, and
from whom he could get the sympathy for which he
craved. How at last he met with such a brother-bard
is thus told in his Autobiography :

" While under these feelings one winter evening, an
old woman observed — ' Dear me, ye're aye singin' sangs.
I never hear ony o' ye sing " The Oak Tree," a fine sang,
made by Andrew Scott when he was a sodger in the
American war.' ' Who is Andrew Scott, Peggy ? '
inquired I. ' Bless me ! do ye no ken Andrew Scott o'
Bowden, wha thrashes at Winfield, barnman there this
winter ? He stops there a' the week and gangs hame on
Saturday nights. He has made mony a bonnie sang,
and nice poems, too, and is a kindly, quiet man as ye
ever saw — aye sae blythe and weel pleased. If ye wad
gang up in the fore-suppertime, an' crack wi' him about
poetry his heart wad rise, for he'll ha'e naething to amuse
him at nichts yonder but a book, for he's aye readin' or
writin', or tweedlin' on the fiddle.'

This conversation occurred early on a winter evening.
So out I sallied, and flew like a meteor over a mile of
ground to Winfield, dropt into the farmer's kitchen, and
found Andrew Scott, my friend to be, sitting on a form
scat, tailoring his old grey coat, which had got very
poetically out at the elbow."

The old soldier and the young cobbler became fast
friends, having one strong bond of union in their
common love of poetry. " I then considered him," says
John simply, "to be likely the best of all unprinted

372 ikinos of tbe 1Rofct IRifle, ant> 6un

poets ; and I daresay my praise and observations, simple
as they must have been, even gave him encouragement,
since a few years afterwards he published, by subscrip-
tion, a very neat volume of poems, which, though not
of a high, flaming cast, did nevertheless express much
of the native manners of common country life, impressed
with the ingenuous simplicity of his own mind."

The most popular, perhaps, of Andrew Scott's poems
was one entitled "Simon and Janet," which tells with
much spirit the story of a stirring incident wherein John
Younger played a part — the memorable night of the
" False Alarm," when the war beacons blazed on every
Border fell and Scottish hill from Solway to the Firth
of Forth, and every man who could carry a musket
hurried to the muster-place. Did not "the Shirra"
himself gallop off that night from Abbotsford to the
trysting-spot ?

John, albeit he hated and despised soldiering and all
its accessories, had joined the Volunteers at the time of
the great invasion panic of 1 803, as he frankly tells us,
not so much out of any feeling of loyalty or patriotism
as to save himself " from being drafted as a regular
militiaman." Probably a very large number of the
300,000 volunteers who so promptly responded to the
call to arms were actuated by similar motives, for the
thought of conscription was hateful to both Englishmen
and Scotsmen, and any man who could show that he
was an effective volunteer was exempt from the militia
ballot. This is how John Younger describes that
exciting scene in 1804:

"On the 3 ist of January, about ten at night, I had

3obn Itjounoer 373

dropped work for the day, and run up to Willie Ovens,
the cooper, when I saw a red, meteor-like light in the
distance. I called Willie Ovens out to see, when we
agreed that it was too high in air to be a signal
light. But while we stood thus conjecturing, up blazed
Penielheugh, when, hulloo ! up I started to the
Braeheads, and there were Hume .Castle with all the
other signal hills in flames. Here was the signal sum-
moning every man to his musket, and all the village was
soon astir, something between a hum and an uproar."

Then came the hurried moonlight march to Kelso,
and the mustering in the big ball-room of the Cross
Keys Tavern, when only two men were found to be
missing out of the five hundred members of the corps.
After a brief inspection the gallant volunteers (who had
not yet received their uniforms, and were as ragged in
appearance as they were valiant in heart) were dis-
missed to their billets to rest, with orders to fall in
instantly at tuck of drum. The weary warriors had
not long laid their heads on their pillows when they
were startled from their slumbers by a rub-a-dub-dub
in the streets. Up they sprang to arms, only to find,
to their unmitigated disgust, that their sleep had been
broken by the old town crier, who, all unwitting of the
beacon scare, was methodically going his rounds with
his drum (the substitute for a bell in Kelso) to announce
a shop sale of cheap goods. Nothing more happened ;
the excitement died down as quickly as it had flashed up,
" Kelso, however," says John, " made a fine show on that
First of February, 1 804, for here were fathers, mothers,
wives, sisters, sweet-hearts altogether, flocking in from

374 Ifctngs of tbe 1ftot>, IRifle, anfc (Sun

twenty circular miles around ; and you might have seen
in reality ' seven women taking hold of one man ' in the
heartswell of friendship, some in a cackle of joy for the
feeling of present security, and all from heart-gladness
that the parting, perhaps for ever, was yet thrown into
the idea of an indefinite distance of time."

Why, or by whose orders, the beacons were fired was
never satisfactorily explained. But it is possible that
the false alarm was given of deliberate purpose to test
the spirit of the volunteers and the mobility of their
organisation. If so, the result was certainly reassuring.

That was the beginning and end of John Younger's
martial experiences. But his angling experiences had
barely begun. It was not until after this never-to-be-
forgotten " False Alarm " that John, being then in his
twentieth year, killed his first clean " fish " with a trout-
fly — an event which opened a new vista of sport to him,
as he tells in the following passage :

" David was with me on a fine summer evening when
I killed my first clean salmon with the small trout fly.
The salmon nipt down my fly in the Broom-ends strong
stream about sunset, and the full moon was high and
bright before I could land him safely. Great and
glorious as we both were on the occasion, we resolved to
be honest ; so wading the water, we went up to George
Sanderson, then the fisherman at Kipperhall, and showed
our fish caught with the trout fly, expecting that he
would generously let us have it to carry home at
something like half price, which we had boldly resolved
to muster. But George was a shabby fellow ; he
demanded the full price, a sum so far above our

3obn Jgounger 375

means that we were obliged to forego the satisfaction of
our prize, and suffer a severe reprimand, amounting to
as near to a full prohibition for the future as the strict
law of the case could warrant him to threaten. So we
had to re-wade the water, and be content to go home as
we were, reconciling ourselves as far as possible with
reflections on the straightforwardness of our conduct,
and at the same time rinding excuse to appropriate
without appeal all we might so catch in the moonlight
of the future. And as individuals were then casually
employed by the tacksmen of the waters to fish for the
one half of what they could kill, and we having thus
found out the gentle trick of the trout fly on the fine
single gut, then only newly introduced to the country
here, that very week, in the pure summer water, we took
the liberty of repaying ourselves in full weight and
measure. Years previous to this I had been famed in
a local circle for fly-dressing ; had dressed a ' Nancy
Dawson ' for old John Wight of Crago'er, a fly as long
as his forefinger, dressed upon fifteen horsehairs for his
cold winter weather slaughter ; had in consequence
gained credit with him ; and had been frequently down
along with Will Balmour fishing for old John, then
himself unable to handle the rod from old age, on which
occasions he allowed half of what we would catch. I
therefore had killed several salmon with the regular
salmon fly ; but this trout fly used for salmon in the fine
clear summer water was a new discovery. After this
David and I resumed correspondence with old Wight,
gratifying and amusing him with the fine gut and the
trout fly, which, conceiving to be such inadequate means

376 ifcfttGS of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, anfc 6un

for the great purpose, he viewed as something in the
character of magic. This together with a drop of
whisky in a bottle gave us not only a roving commission
but made us always the most desirable guests imaginable
There were no gentleman fishers in those days as now
to come three hundred miles in cold spring snows,
lodging at the inns here around us at some pound a day,
besides both treating and paying the tacksmen at a high
rate, something like another pound, for the favour of a
liberty to starve and fatigue themselves on the cold
water. One might have proved them mad before a jury
of Athenians. It was years after this ere Scrope came
round and succeeded old John Wight and Geordie
Sanderson, by trebling the rents of the Mertoun waters,
commencing what we may call the gentle epidemical
mania for salmon fishing, which has had the effect of
these great lordly pikes driving us smaller fry out of
the water."

The Scrope here referred to was the famous William
Scrope, author of " The Art of Deer-stalking " and " Days
and Nights of Salmon-fishing on the Tweed," to whom I
have devoted a special chapter. He was John Younger's
bete noire — the mere mention of his name was enough to
rouse the Radical shoemaker of St. Boswell's into a white
heat of indignation. John hardly ever alludes to his
aristocratic rival without bitterness. Possibly there was
a reason for this bitterness — at any rate, John, in his
little book on " River Angling," hints that there was.
In describing the flies which he himself designed and
dressed, he writes :

" I reduced all strictly to five, which I perceived, or at

Jobn 13oun0et 377

least fancifully conceived to resemble, in some degree,
the five pristine colours of the rainbow, or the five
human senses.

In thus writing on the subject, as an article by itself,
which came to be published under the name of ' River
Angling,' I described these five flies numerically, 1st,
2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, adding a sixth as a favourite variation
of my first. Mr. Scrope some year or two thereafter,
published a splendid book on fishing, under a show of
plates, and price as great in proportion to mine as the
amount of his original fortune in life was above mine,
not as he stood higher in knowledge of his subject or in
manual ability, but in worldly circumstances, and con-
sequently in the world's eye. Thus the world goes
generally — while I am valued at eighteen pence, Scrope
sells at two guineas ! God help me and the world both ;
we are a farce to think on — a sorry farce indeed. It is
puzzling to suppose which is the most to be pitied.
Scrope's six flies are mine, of course, to a shade ; they
could indeed be properly no other, only that he has
described them in other words (even figured them in
painted plates), with perhaps more quaint punctuality in
tufts and toppings, and under fanciful local names of
designation, such as * Meg in her braws,' ' Kinmont
Willie/ ' The Lady o' Mertoun,' and so on."

It may be that Mr. William Scrope did plagiarise
John Younger's flies ; but if so, I think it was not
conscious or deliberate plagiarism — of that I should
deem the author of " Days and Nights of Salmon-
fishing " incapable, for he was a true gentleman
and sportsman, though his grand seigneur modes of

378 Ifcings of tbe tRofc, IRtfle, ant) 6un

sport not unnaturally set up the back of the Radical
cobbler.

But whilst I can excuse John Younger for his bitter
feeling towards Scrope, it is not so easy to forgive him
for the contempt which he always expressed for his
great neighbour Walter Scott, who, to use the shoe-
maker's own words, " devoted a mind of considerable
ability to the building for himself a monumental house
and a name out of materials ferreted from amongst
the dirty rubbish of a very few late ages — three-fourths
of the whole, of course, a mere low bagatelle of literary
flummery." " A mind of considerable ability " \ \ Was
there ever an estimate of human intellect which
reflected less credit on the sense of the man who made
it ! What strange twist was there in John Younger's
mental vision that so distorted his view of the Wizard
of the North, the greatest of all Scotsmen? And
yet, with all my anger at his narrow-mindedness, there
mingles a feeling of admiration for the courage of the
man who within sight of Abbotsford never hesitated
to express his contempt for the Waverley Novels and
their illustrious author.

But Sir Walter Scott and William Scrope were not
the only eminent persons for whom John Younger dared
to entertain an opinion very different from that held
by the rest of the world. In illustration of his con-
tention that " a man seldom prides himself upon his
best quality, but often upon something in which he is
never likely to excel or become even equal with the
run of his neighbours," he takes, amongst others, the
case of Sir Humphry Davy, of whom he writes thus :

Sobn 12oun0er 379

" A late distinguished philosopher, I am told, valued
himself more on his knowledge of salmon and angling,
on which he wrote a volume of something very like
nonsense, than on all the rest of his valuable scientific
discoveries ; and what is equally strange is, that on
account of his otherwise great name this production has
gone through three or four editions — a sorry print
— proof of our general human weakness."

Now put against that criticism of John Younger's the
following by the writer of an able article in the Edin-
burgJi Review of July, 1883 :

" Our own century has been fertile in books bearing
on angling, but originality is scarce among them.
Taken all in all, the book which it has produced of
greatest celebrity is undoubtedly ' Salmonia.' He who
does not know the mild wisdom of Haliceus is ignorant
of the philosophical pleasures of angling. With it we
are inclined to place Kingsley's admirable ' Chalk Stream
Studies.' They are excellent instances of the sub-
sidiary delights connected with fishing."

But perhaps John Younger had not read " Salmonia."
I have often found that the severest critics of a book are
those who have never looked into its pages, just as
the most rabid denouncers of the Stage as a hot-bed
of immorality are those who have never seen the inside
of a theatre in their lives.

The philosopher-poet-shoemaker finally gravitated to
St. Boswell's, the attractions of which he thus frankly
indicates :

" In spite of my philosophy, I was still retaining a
hankering desire after an occasional outstart to the

380 ifctngs of tbe IRofc, IRffle, anfc 6un

trouting for which St. Boswell's lay so convenient on
the grand river, and I felt that whatever my necessity
for constant work might continue to be, there still might
be some favourable leisure hours out of the many twenty-
fours of the long twelve months which might be spared
for such congenial amusement as angling, which I found
I could improve to purpose ; and besides I was still
followed out from the river sides to Bowden for fly-
dressing by all my fishing acquaintances, so that in a
short time I found I would be obliged to do a great deal
in the line gratis, unless I should make it a proper
stated branch of my business for daily bread through
life, as it eventually has been down to the present hour."

John Younger's fishing-boots were almost as famous
as his flies. He charged five guineas a pair for them,
and would never abate the price, for he said the honest
work put into the making of them was well worth the
money to those who could afford to pay for such
luxuries.

Fortune had none of her lucky tickets in life's lottery
for John Younger, but he was not discontented with his
lot. Here is a specimen of the philosophic view he took
of his surroundings as he descended the hill :

" Well, here stood, or rather sat, I, in this St. Boswell's,
at that time, and long since, in the extended and
elevated position of son, brother, husband, father, uncle,
debtor, creditor, sutor, cobbler, and fish fly-dresser, to
which I added fishing bootmaker to whomsoever would
employ me— a most responsible situation truly. Not-
withstanding all this, I could not yet fully master former
desires for out-airings, in the shape of a casual early

Sobn lounger 381

morning shot by Tweedside at rabbits, or at birds for
trout-fly feathers, nor a cast of the fly on a very par-
ticularly fine fishing day, besides something in the
character of occasional romantic scene-haunting around
every fairy nook, peak, or corner in the vicinity, from
the tops of Eildon and the Bell-race, down to the salmon
rock-lair at the bottom of the Hare-crag pool. I felt it
not at all easy or agreeable to sink the sentient soul
betwixt the soles of a stinking shoe for the term of even
this little life-time. . . . No, no ; he who rejects the
present free gifts of life — sun, moon, and star influences,
the open breeze of hill, flood, and forest, with woodland
airs, and the music of moving waters— may be regarded
as throwing all these gifts of supreme goodness back in
their author's face, unappreciated and unenjoyed, like
a petted urchin refusing the refreshing and delightful
enjoyment of them."

So John Younger' s life ran on smoothly and unevent-
fully, its placid surface only broken by literary episodes.
The first of these was the publication, in 1834, of a little
volume of verse entitled " Thoughts as they Rise." Its
contents consisted of one rambling poem in the metre
of " Don Juan," but, as the author is careful to inform
his readers, " without an imaginary hero romaunting
through its cantos." As the effort of a working man,
wholly self-educated, the poem is unquestionably a
remarkable one. For it displays considerable command
of language and ease in versification ; there are passages,
too, of genuine poetic feeling and pictures of Nature
which could only have come from a sympathetic lover of
the " Universal Mother." But the true poetic fire is

382 ikfnas of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, an& Gun

lacking, and it is not surprising that John Younger's
literary first-born died at its birth. Not a score of copies
were sold, and John's disappointment was deep. Six
years later, however, he had more success with his next
literary venture, an article on "River Angling," which
appeared in BlackwoocTs Magazine, and was subsequently
published with additions in book form, bringing John
£30 in hard cash, and, what he perhaps valued more, a
wide and high reputation among anglers.

But it was in 1847 that the greatest event in John's
life happened to him. There was at that time a notable
Scottish philanthropist — John Henderson, of Park, in
Renfrewshire — who annually devoted a large part of
his immense fortune, sometimes as much as £40,000
in a single year, to the furtherance of religious and
charitable schemes. Amongst his hobbies was the
strict maintenance of the Scottish Sabbath as a day of
entire cessation from labour. His zeal in promoting
this object was extraordinary. On one occasion he
spent upwards of £4,000 in sending copies of a
Sabbatarian publication to all the railway servants in
the kingdom, in the hope of convincing them of the
sinfulness of Sabbath labour. He invested largely, too,
in the stock of the Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway,
and distributed the shares among friends whom he could
trust to oppose railway travelling on Sunday. In 1847
he offered three prizes for the best essays on " The
Temporal Advantage of the Sabbath to the Labouring
Classes." John Younger was urged by his friends and
neighbours, who had by this time formed a high opinion
of his literary powers, to compete for the prize. But he

3obn jt)oun0er 383

was too modest and diffident to entertain the idea, and
it was only after long and strong pressure on the part
of his friends that he was persuaded to become a com-
petitor. So much time had been consumed in removing
his scruples that only forty-eight hours were left in
which to write the essay. It was written, however, and
despatched. Presently the news came that the second
prize of £i 5 had been awarded to John Younger. Great
was the rejoicing in Tweedside. Bonfires blazed, bells
rang merrily, and John's neighbours went clean daft
over his success.

" A prood mon " was the St. Boswell's shoemaker, but
in the midst of his triumph there came a damper which
dimmed it. He was invited to appear at Exeter Hall,
London, to receive his prize from the hands of Lord
Shaftesbury. How was he to appear amongst all these
big-wigs when he had not a decent coat to his back ?
But his enthusiastic friends would not let that stand in
the way of John's maintaining the honour and dignity
of Tweedside. A suit of good black broadcloth was
provided for John, and he started for London. And
right valiantly did the St. Boswell's shoemaker face the
swells. Nay, more : when his prize was presented to
him with some eulogistic comments, John stood up and
" hammered off a ready-handed speech in broad Scots,"
to the mingled amazement and amusement of the
nobility and gentry on the platform and the public in
the Hall.

And then there was the coming back of the hero to
St. Boswell's ! How his wondering neighbours gathered
round him to listen open-mouthed to his adventures in

384 "Kings of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc (Bun

that far-distant Babylon of the South ! And how proud
they were of " oor Jock " when they heard how Lord
Minto had taken him to the house of Lord John Russell
himself, and how that great statesman and John had a
" rare crack " together ! Then there was the banquet to
celebrate the return of the traveller and prize-winner,
and the handsome purse subscribed by his admirers,
which more than covered all John's expenses, and left
him his prize-money intact.

But there were fresh honours awaiting John. The
Hon. J. E. Elliott, then M.P. for the county, procured
for the literary shoemaker the appointment of village
postmaster, which it was thought would provide him
with an easier mode of livelihood than the cobbler's last.
It was a mistaken kindness, however, for John's habits
had utterly unfitted him for the routine of an office.
The rules and regulations perplexed and confused him.
He was like a fish out of water, and when the life had
been nearly vexed out of him he threw up the appoint-
ment in disgust. He told a friend who called on him
shortly afterwards that he felt himself when postmaster
"like a caged squirrel running over its never-ending
wheel ; but that when he was free he felt himself just
like the squirrel on the top of a tree, ready to jump
wherever he liked."

So he went back with a light heart to his shoemaker's
bench and his fishing-rod. He had ample opportunities
for indulging in the sport he loved, for the Tweed was
far more a poor man's river then than it is now. John's
old friend John Haliburton rented the Mertoun water
at £15 a year, with a cow's grass thrown in, and the

Sobn lounger 385

St. Boswell's shoemaker had a standing invitation to
come and try a cast whenever and as often as he
pleased, an invitation of which he freely availed
himself.

John had his own opinions on fishing as on politics
and religion — opinions which were the outcome of his
own observation and experience. Some of these were
certainly eccentric. He was convinced, for example,
that the natural prototype of the salmon-fly is the
shrimp, and believed that the salmon, accustomed to
feed on shrimps during his residence in the sea, imagines
the fly — yellow, black, brown, dun, it matters not what
the colour— to be the shrimp. He got the idea from
the Rev. Henry Newland's delightful book " The Erne :
its Legends and Fly-fishing," where the author says of
the salmon-fly :

" It is not like anything in heaven or earth, but it is very
like something in the water : it is like a shrimp, which I
imagine to be the food of the salmon when at sea ; he
comes into the river, is uncommonly at a loss for his
usual dinner, when he sees a little dancing fellow with
all these sharp-pointed wings, as we are pleased to call
them, jumping about in the running water, and he thinks,
of course, it is one of his old friends."

But John Younger went further than this and made
the astounding assertion that it was the colour as well as
the shape and movement that beguiled the salmon, for,
says he, " shrimps are as varied in their colours as are a
flock of fancy pigeons ! " Had John ever seen a shrimp
in its native state ? I trow not. He was thinking, no
doubt, of boiled shrimps, as Victor Hugo was of boiled

VOL. II. 4

386 ikings of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc (Bun

lobsters when he described that crustacean as " the
cardinal of the seas."

John had a theory, too, about trout-flies which, though
ingenious, will hardly be endorsed by the modern
practical angler. This is how he puts it :

" The grand mistake of all the authors I have seen on
fly fishing is their supposition that the flies are alighting
on the water from above, whereas, could they catch up
the idea, or be persuaded when told, that the flies rise to
the surface from the bottom where they are bred, sheets
of useless speculation might be saved ; such as about
making your cast of flies alight softly on the surface, like
living flies alighting from the air above, etc. Water flies
do arise from the surface occasionally (as well as for
sexual contact, like midges, bees, and birds — such as
nipes and swallows), and sometimes alight on it after.
One in a thousand may do this, and on alighting be met
by a ready trout ; but this is rather an accidental
alighting than a general case, as the trouts are really
rather feeding on those arising from the bottom upwards,
while those ascending into the air are done with the
water, not requiring to return."

I wonder what worthy John would have said to the
present-day " dry-fly " fisherman, and how he would have
accounted for the success which attends the exponents
of that theory !

I have already referred to John's skill as a fly-dresser
and to his five flies, "conceived to resemble the five
pristine colours of the rainbow or the five human senses."
To these he added a sixth, a most killing one, which he
thus describes :

Sobn lounger 387

" My sixth fly I will distinguish by calling it the
Maule fly, which, though not much different from my
first fly, yet is in some points peculiar ; and principally
in this, that Mr. Maule hardly ever used any but this one
kind, only varying the size of it from the largest size of
hook (generally used on heavy water) down to the very
smallest, little abcv^ the size of a large trout fly, say
No. 9 or 10 of Adlington's. From the least to the largest
size this fly was made up of a medium colour of sky-blue
fine wool, with small pallid tinsel, or no tinsel, and a very
peculiar cock hackle : to wit, black from the root up
along the middle stem to fully half the length, then
running into red out to the top — and a light or orange
tuft for tail — the wings of a soft mottled turkey tail
feather, dark grey. Mr. Maule in dressing this fly
differed from my mode of dressing. Instead of cutting off
the pair of wings from the feather, and putting them on
unbroken in the web, he tore them from the stem, then
equalising their points, pirled them between his thumb
and finger till well mixed ; then tied them on with their
tops laid back, adjusting the root with knife or scissors.
He then folded them forward and divided them equally ;
and next, by several crossings of the fine thread, tied
them solidly in position, and trimmed off the fly. This
fly he sunk by means of a blue silk casting line, which
he had pointed off with five or six lengths of gut. In
throwing this line he beat everybody ; and from his art
in sinking it, he brought it to near the fish on his lair at
the bottom ; and by these means he was more successful
generally than any other fisher."

John Younger's published writings, as well as his

388 ikfngs of tfoe 1Rofc, IRffle, an& (Bun

voluminous correspondence, all emanated from his work-
shop. Whenever an idea fired his imagination, down
went the ploughman's shoe which he was cobbling, and
a sheet of paper spread upon the lapstone announced
to visitors that John was " rapt, inspired." " Many an
evening," says Mr. William Henderson, of Durham, in
his " Life of an Angler," " have I spent with this remark-
able man, listening to his compositions and sipping a
glass of toddy with him. His reading and information
were extensive, even for a Scotchman ; there were few
of our British poets with whose works he was not
well acquainted, and his views on men and manners
were racy and original. He was a great politician, and,
I am sorry to say, an advanced Radical. At the great
county meeting of Selkirkshire, on occasion of the
passing of the Reform Bill, John Younger was selected
to return thanks for the enfranchisement of the small
property-holders, and he did so in a really able speech,
which won him general admiration.

John was remarkable not only for his varied talents,
but for his exceeding gentleness and consideration
for others. He never flinched from putting forth his
views plainly, but the way in which he did so might
have read a lesson to many a man of higher station.
Never did he forget, as is too commonly the case, that
truth itself need not and should not be uttered in an
offensive manner."

The same writer tells us how, many a time, when
seated with John in his workshop, he has seen him steal
away as secretly as he could to the adjoining room,
where, in her chair by the ingle-neuk, sat his poor,

3obn Koun0er 389

helpless life-partner, totally blind from cataracts on
both eyes, listening always to the sound of the step
she knew and loved so well. The old man would
gently take her hand, whisper some tender words,
and, bending down, bestow the longed-for kiss. Then,
wiping away the tear that would gather in his own eye,
John would return to his lapstone and his labour, leaving
the loving heart to count the minutes till he should return.
The auld guidwife went away to " the land of the leal "
about four years before John, and there was thus
fulfilled the wish he had expressed years before in one
of his sweet songs :

'Mid a' the thoughts that trouble me,

The saddest thought of any
Is wha may close the other's e'e —

May it be me or Nannie?

The ane that's left will sairly feel,

Amid a world uncanny;
I'd rather face auld age mysel'

Than lanely leave my Nannie.

The Fates were kind to him, and Nannie was not
left lonely. It was John who had to face old age
without her, waiting for the time to come when he
should be laid beside her.

At the great Burns celebration in 1859 to commemo-
rate the centenary of the poet's birth, John Younger
came out in a new character. He appeared as a
lecturer on the national bard, whose poems had been
a revelation to his own soul.

" It was a treat," says one who heard him, " to see
the unaffected bonhomie of ' the old man eloquent '

39° ftfnss of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anfc <3un

elevated on the lecture bench to talk of Burns. He
had the key of a sympathetic fellow feeling to all the
phases of Burns' life. No one who listened but admitted
that a shrewder, more instinctive apprehension of that
life, had seldom been produced. When he came to
offer selections of the favourite poems, his warm loving
admiration of the verses knew no bounds. ' Here awa,
there awa, wandering Willie,' he designated the tenderest
and most beautiful love song which ever came from the
lips of man ; and as his voice repeated several of the
stanzas, the tributary tears of emotion coursed down his
cheek."

The lecture was delivered in most of the towns and
villages in the Border district, and the proceeds were
sufficiently respectable to promise that, by the extension
of his tour, he might net a sum sufficient for the wants
of his advancing years. A number of his Border friends
resident in Glasgow invited him to the western me-
tropolis to deliver the lecture there. He was able to
accomplish the visit, but with unfavourable results to
himself. Exposure to extremely severe weather during
his movements brought on an attack of rheumatism
which prostrated him, and he was confined to his lodgings
for several weeks. The attendant expense of this
misfortune melted away most of his gains, and he
reached Lessudden as poor as ever.

His health now began to break up. An attempt was
made by one of his friends to enlist the sympathy of
a noble duke in behalf of the poet-angler-shoemaker.
His Grace made no reply to the appeal — perhaps it
never reached him. When John was told of it, and one

3obn Bouncer 391

cannot but wonder at the motive which prompted the
unsuccessful applicant to make his failure known, the
old man wrote in this strain of mingled bitterness and
resignation :

" Land-logged in this life, I am making gravewards
very heavily. I can see no substantial point of depend-
ence before me. I am 73 : my father cobbled on every
day till 90 and lived till 94 ; and I am as strong as he
was at my age. He was never in life so wealthy as I
have been : but never so poor as I am now. I could
work for my daily bread yet, if I could only get the
means of a moderate new commencement. But you see
it is needless to look to dukes except to get worried."

A stroke of paralysis gave John his death-blow. He
never rallied from it, and in November, 1863, he died.

He was described when verging towards his seventieth
year as " still active and athletic, of tall and command-
ing stature, and with the mien and presence of a noble-
man ; his stalwart frame the correct and yet imperfect
embodiment of his powerful mind ; simple and un-
sophisticated as an infant, though rich in both joyous
and sad experience ; not unread in books, and of men
and things an incessant, deep, and successful student ;
his workshop the village forum, himself a true oracle ;
the well-worn joint-stool fronting his own occupied day
after day by listening visitors of all ranks, down to the
sauntering angler and muse-struck ploughboy ; a keen
politician, without a spark of partizanship ; a caustic
satirist who never made an enemy ; a true philanthropist,
without sickly sentiment ; a real Christian, without
sectarianism,"

392 ifctnas of tfoe 1Rot>, IRtfle, an& <3un

But it is as an angler that I like best to think of John
Younger. And the picture which dwells most pleasantly
in my mind is that of the old shoemaker on his bench,
with the crowd of kindly gossips gathered round his
workshop of an evening : some, neighbours who had
known him from their childhood ; some, strangers from
afar brought thither by his reputation as a philosopher
and a fisherman, — all come to listen to the Nestor of
Tweedside as he talks wisely of the secrets of the gentle
craft he knew and loved so well — a band of worshipful
courtiers waiting —

to hear a gray-haired king
Unravel all his many-coloured lore.

Sir Richard Sutton

ONE evening in the autumn of the year 1809 the
Rev. Thomas Barrett, Vicar of Burton, in Lincoln-
shire, received an unexpected visit from Mr. George
Osbaldeston, the young Master of the Burton Hounds.

" Mr. Barrett," said " the Squire," when he and the
Vicar were alone in the study, " I have come to ask a
favour of you. It refers to your young pupil Sutton.
I have taken a fancy to the lad. He seems to have a
taste for hunting, and I should like, with your per-
mission, to give him a lesson or two in the ' noble
science.' "

" But, Mr. Osbaldeston, surely he is too young. The
boy is but ten years of age."

" Not a bit too young to learn, sir. Why, I've known
boys no older than he commence whipping-in. I'll take
care that he comes to no harm. My first whip, Tom
Sebright, has a quiet, clever pony that will be just the
thing for him. And I'm sure it will do the boy's studies
no harm if you let him leave his Cornelius Nepos now
and then of a morning, and take a lesson in hunting
from me and Tom Sebright."

393

394 Ikfngs of tbe TRofc, IRifle, an& (Bun

The Vicar hesitated.

"You see, Mr. Osbaldeston, the boy has no father.
I stand in loco parentis to him, and "

But the impetuous young Master of the Burton had
an answer to every objection, and at last the Vicar was
persuaded to grant the request.

Two days later the boy-baronet, mounted on Tom
Sebright's grey pony, was duly entered to hounds, and
had his first taste of the sport of kings among the cubs,
under the eye of the finest all-round sportsman in
England.

With such a Mentor it is not surprising that the lad
soon became not only an excellent rider but a good
shot. For George Osbaldeston, already noted as the
best game-shot in the country, initiated his young
protege in the mysteries of shooting and taught him how
to handle a gun, till the pupil was nearly the equal of
the master.

Sir Richard Sutton, whose name is writ large in the
annals of sport as one of the grandest all-round
sportsmen of the nineteenth century, was born at Brant
Broughton, in Lincolnshire, on December i6th, 1798.
His father, John Sutton, was the eldest son of Sir
Richard, the first baronet, but died before his father,
leaving one son, the subject of my sketch, aged two years.

The Suttons, of Sutton-upon-Trent, had been a family
of note in the Midlands from the time of the Norman
Conquest, and became allied in the thirteenth century
to the noble house of Lexington by the marriage of
Richard de Sutton with Alice, the sister of Robert de
Lexington. And for six hundred years they have left

Sir IRicbarfc Sutton 395

their mark on the history of their times. Robert Sutton,
first Baron Lexington, was one of King Charles's
staunchest soldiers in the great war with the Parliament.
His defence of Newark for his Royal master was so
stubborn and gallant as to earn for him the name of
" the Devil of Newark " from the Roundheads, who in
the hour of their triumph made him suffer bitterly for
his loyalty, for his estates were sequestrated, and the
Parliament ordered Lord Lexington to pay out of his
revenues a fine of £5,000 to Lord Grey, of Wark, who
was to enjoy possession of the estate until the heavy
fine — equivalent to ten times the amount nowadays —
was paid. For these sacrifices in the cause of loyalty
it is perhaps needless to say that Lord Lexington was
not reimbursed when Charles II. came into his own
again. Gratitude, other than verbal, was never a
characteristic of the Stuarts.

The Suttons had been a wealth-acquiring family
from an early period, and had spent their wealth nobly.
Sir Richard Sutton, who died in 1524, was co-founder
with William Smyth, Bishop of Lincoln, of Brasenose
College, Oxford. Thomas Sutton, his son, sometime
Master-General of Ordnance, amassed a great fortune
as a merchant, and founded the Charterhouse.

Mother Church, too, has had distinguished sons among
the Suttons. Christopher, a learned and eloquent Doctor
of Divinity, in two notable treatises essayed to teach his
contemporaries of the seventeenth century how to die
and how to live. And Charles Manners Sutton is re-
membered by men still living as the urbane, scholarly,
and polished Archbishop of Canterbury.

396 Ifcfnss of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc (Bun

In law and politics, too, the Suttons have made their
mark. Thomas Manners Sutton, sometime a Baron of
the Exchequer in England, became, as Lord Manners,
Lord High Chancellor of Ireland, an office which he
held from 1807 to 1827. Charles Manners Sutton, after-
wards Viscount Canterbury, was for seventeen years
Speaker of the House of Commons under the third and
fourth Georges and William IV., and the Chair has
never had a more popular occupant.

Lastly, the first baronet, who was a great-grandson
of Henry Sutton, younger brother of Robert, first Baron
Lexington, "the Devil of Newark" aforesaid, was for
seven years Under-Secretary of State, and received his
baronetcy on retiring from office in 1772. On his death,
in 1802, his grandson Richard, the subject of the present
sketch, then aged four years, inherited the title and
estates. The latter comprised large properties in
Nottinghamshire, Norfolk, and Leicestershire, besides a
great portion of the parish of St. James's, Westminster,
which embraces a considerable section of Mayfair.
The rents of these estates accumulated during the long
minority of the heir, and when he came of age Sir
Richard Sutton found himself one of the wealthiest
men in England. The income from his London
property alone was £40,000 a year, and the rental
of his landed estates amounted to probably twice as
much more.

At the age of eighteen Sir Richard was entered at
Trinity College, Cambridge, as a fellow-commoner.
I have heard it said that if it had been his good fortune
to be a poor man he might have taken a high place

Sir IRfcbarfc Button 397

among the Wranglers in the Mathematical Tripos. But
in those days there was a royal road open to fellow-
commoners by which they could attain the honour of a
degree without the bore of examination. Sir Richard
Sutton went up to Trinity on October 22nd, 1816, and,
as a matter of course, took his degree as Master of Arts
in 1818!

On December I7th, 1819, the day after he came of
age, Sir Richard married Mary Elizabeth, daughter of
Benjamin Burton, Esquire, of Burton Hall, Co. Carlow.
The bride was beautiful and accomplished, the bride-
groom a fine specimen of a manly young Englishman.
Those who were present at the wedding, and they were
many, declared that they had never seen a handsomer
couple kneel before the altar.

Miss Burton, by the way, had, not long before her
marriage, inspired Squire Osbaldeston to perform one
of his notable feats of horsemanship. He met her at a
dinner party, and learning that she was engaged to his
quondam protege and pupil Sir Richard Sutton, took a
warm interest in her. Now, it happened that Miss
Cracroft, a rival beauty, had a bouquet in which was a
hot-house flower of great rarity. It attracted general
attention, and amongst those who admired it was Miss
Burton. " Ah ! my dear," said Miss Cracroft, with that
peculiar smile which usually accompanies such feline
amenities, " there are some things which even the wealth
of Sir Richard cannot procure." Osbaldeston overheard
the remark and did not forget it. Pleading an excuse
after dinner for leaving the wine party, he slipped out
to the stables, mounted a favourite horse, rode to the

398 Ikinos of tbc IRofc, IRlfle, an& 6un

house of the person from whom the flower had been
obtained, twenty-five miles distant, brought back another
and more brilliant specimen, which he presented to Miss
Burton in the ball-room, and which that lady triumphantly
displayed to her rival at the supper-table, as if to say,
" My dear, have you a cavalier who would ride fifty miles
in four hours to get you a flower, or who could do it if
he would ? "

And now, with wealth beyond the dreams of avarice
at his uncontrolled disposal, Sir Richard went in heart
and soul for the sports he loved. The family seat was
at Norwood, in Nottinghamshire, but one house, no
matter how fine, was not enough to satisfy the ambition
of the young baronet or afford sport commensurate
with his large ideas. So he took Sudbrooke Hall, in
Lincolnshire, as his hunting quarters, and Mr. Angerstein's
place at Weeting, in Norfolk, as his English shooting-box,
whilst he rented some thousands of acres of Aberdeen-
shire forest and moor for deer-stalking and grouse-
shooting.

His passion for shooting was intense. He loved it
better than any other sport under the sun, except hunting.
From August I2th to November ist he seldom missed
a single day's shooting. After that date he devoted
himself with equal zest to the chase, though I think he
was not sorry when a hard frost now and then gave him
a decent excuse for taking up the gun.

In 1822 Sir Richard took the Burton Hounds, which
the great Thomas Assheton Smith had just resigned.
The new master hunted the country entirely at his own
expense, and his hospitality was princely. The Lincoln

Sir HHcbarfc Sutton 399

tradesmen, however, took advantage of Sir Richard's
liberal disposition, and fleeced him so shamefully that
after seven seasons with the Burton he quitted the
country. When, two years later, he revisited Lincoln,
one of the prominent tradesmen of the city, who had
fattened upon the generous baronet, said to him, " We
want you back again, Sir Richard." To which the
baronet drily replied, " You ought to have kept me when
you had me."

The immediate cause of Sir Richard's resigning the
mastership of the Burton was a bad accident by which
he broke his thigh. He was too fond of riding difficult
horses, and used to say that he didn't care what a horse's
temper was so long as he could go. It was this reckless-
ness as to the temper of his horses which brought about
his serious accident. He put his horse at a stiff fence,
which the obstinate brute refused ; but, finding that his
rider would not be denied, the horse clumsily charged
the fence and fell on the edge of a ditch on the other
side with Sir Richard's thigh under him, which, says an
eye-witness, " snapped like the smothered report of a
pistol, and lamed him for life." To be laid on his back
for weeks was, to a man of Sir Richard's active habits,
the worst of mental and bodily tortures. But he had to
grin and bear it, not only that once, but a second time,
in later years, when he again fractured the same limb,
and was laid up for many weeks in London. In times
of perfect health his appetite was that of the proverbial
hungry hunter. Imagine his feelings, then, when he
was ordered by his London physician to limit himself
to " half a boiled turnip " for dinner !

400 Tfcings of tfoe 1Rofc, 1Riflet anfc Gun

On another occasion Sir Richard met with a mishap
out hunting which nearly proved fatal. His horse fell
upon him in one of those deep brooks — small rivers,
in fact — which are common in the Midlands. Sir Richard
had the presence of mind to hold his whip firmly in one
hand above water, and he was thus pulled from under
his horse.

A propos of his mastership of the Burton, a writer in
The Field gives the following anecdote :

" Endowed by nature with keen powers of perception
and great judgment, having a fondness too for breeding
hounds, he soon got up an excellent pack ; in doing
which he was aided by the experience of Jack Shirley
and Jem Wilson, both of whom had lived with Mr.
Smith, and had, therefore, the best means of learning
their business ; they officiated as huntsman and whipper-
in to Sir Richard's hounds for many years. So much
was Shirley attached to his master that when he was
told he would have to leave, as the hounds were to be
given up, through Sir Richard breaking his leg by a fall,
he answered that he would not go ; and when told he
would have no wages, and must go, he said, * Nay, but
I'll stop without wages.' He went with Sir Richard into
Norfolk, where he lived in the house, walked, as fast as
his increasing waistcoat would let him, with the gentle-
men out shooting, and fancied himself a gamekeeper.
He was reinstated in his berth as soon as his master got
well again ; and Jem Wilson remained as whip till his
name became almost as famous as that of the renowned
' Tom Moody.' "

On the death of Lord Lonsdale in 1 842 Sir Richard

Sir IRtcbarfc Button 401

Sutton became Master of the Cottcsmore and hunted
that country for five seasons. Then came the climax of
his hunting career, the mastership of the Quorn. On
January I5th, 1 848, he purchased Quorn Hall from the
Olivers for ,£12,000, and from that time till the day of
his death he hunted that famous country in a style
which had never been equalled before and has only
been once surpassed since. With eighty horses in his
stables and seventy-nine couples of hounds in his kennels
he was able to give six days' hunting a week ; and when
his son Richard took an outlying part of the country, the
Quorn could actually boast of having eight days' sport
a week. Sir Richard bore the whole cost, and spent
upwards of £10,000 a year on the Quorn during his
mastership.

But after spending £350,000 in hunting during a
period of thirty-two years, Sir Richard, I think, began to
have suspicions that the game was no longer worth the
candle, and that he could get more enjoyment out of
shooting than out of fox-hunting, with less trouble and
expenditure. For never did he falter in his devotion
to the gun — even in his most enthusiastic hunting
days it shared at least an equal part in his affections.
The writer to whom I have already referred says :

"In those two pursuits he never had an equal ; others
may have ridden as well, and have been as good judges
of hounds — Thomas Assheton Smith, for instance, but he
could not shoot with him ; and as regards his skill in
the use of the gun, we don't believe the man ever lived
who was a match for him. Mr. George Hanbury may,
perhaps, have been as good a partridge shot, but he had

VOL. II. 5

402 ifcings of tbe 1Rot>, Kttfle, anfc (Bun

no chance with him at ground game. Colonel Anson,
considered the best shot in England at rabbits, was once
backed against him for a day's rabbit shooting at
Colonel Peel's. Sir R. Sutton arrived rather late, and
being told that a wager was pending, and that they had
begun shooting, said, ' Never mind, I shall be with him
presently,' and so he was — before three o'clock he was
several couples ahead. . . .

In shooting we have stated that he was never
equalled ; he had a profound contempt for ' popping
at pigeons ' ; — he not only thought that it savoured of
blacklegism (he had the same idea regarding the Turf) ;
but the manliness of his nature made him feel that
there was a tameness about carrying the bird to the
trap, not unlike that of turning a stag out of a cart
which, he often said, was the most laughable thing
imaginable, though he only witnessed the performance
once — on one occasion when being in Norfolk for a day
or two, he went to see the deer turned out before the
hounds of the late Mr. Robert Hamond. The meet was
on Swaffham Heath, about seven miles from Linford,
and the stag, as though aware that a sportsman was
out, seemed so fully bent on the ridiculous, that he
kept trotting in and out among the dumpling-eaters,
and every now and then taking a stare at the Master
of the Burton — as much as to say ' Is not this fun ? ' —
till at length he was re-carted, and returned to his pad-
dock. Poor Mr. Hamond drew a very long face, whilst
Sir Richard said it was better than 'Punch.'

His quickness with the gun was most wonderful ;
the quantity of game he would kill, though not put

Sir TCicbarfc Sutton 403

in a better place than other people, was quite extra-
ordinary, for he invariably headed the field. He had
the eye of a hawk, and like that bird, could indeed
make havoc amongst the partridges. Often has he been
shooting close to Newmarket Heath during the October
meetings, when the birds were so wild that most persons
deemed it useless to go out, and gone home with a bag
of twenty-five or thirty brace. He was once induced,
from curiosity, to enter upon a pigeon-match which
came off at Canwick Common about a mile from
Lincoln ; he was then defeated by his friend Com-
modore Hare ; they both shot well — the latter gentle-
man having been a lover of gunpowder ever since the
time when he tried so much of it in the Peninsular
War. This gentlemen also gave an excellent recipe
for curing indigestion : it was, ' Drink two bottles of
port after dinner, get a bad fall out hunting, have your
head broken and be trepanned' On being told that
was a pleasant thing, he merely added laconically,
' Cured mine.' Perhaps as extraordinary a shot as
was ever heard of was made by Sir R. Sutton, when
out with his friend Mr. Caldwell, of Hilborough. A
shower came on, and as they were taking shelter under
a hedge, Sir Richard, sitting as usual upon his shooting
pony, had his gun in his right hand, whilst he held
an umbrella over his head with the left ; a covey of
birds rose at about thirty yards' distance, when, still
holding the umbrella, he killed and bagged a bird with
each barrel ! The number of pheasants, etc., killed on
his estates at Lingford, Tofts and Cranwich have been
so often published that it is needless to repeat them here.

404 Ifcings of tfoe 1Rofc, fRffle, an& (Bun

So devotedly fond was he of shooting that he seldom
missed a day from the twelfth of August to the first of
February, except when he was hunting. He had Mr.
Farquharson's moors in Aberdeenshire for many years,
where he frequently killed a hundred brace of grouse
in one day ; and before he had the misfortune to break
his thigh, many an antlered monarch of the forest had
fallen to his rifle. It was on this very ground that
the late Prince Consort amused himself with deer
stalking.

After being a few years at Weeting, in Norfolk, he
bought the estates of Mr. Merest at Linford, Cranwich
and Mundford, and that of Mr. Moseley at Tofts,
adjoining to each other, and immediately bounded
by those of Mr. Angerstein, at Weeting, on one side, and
those of Mr. Baring, at Buckenham, on the other — so
that nothing could be better adapted for the breeding
and preservation of game, in which a reference to his
game books would show him to have been eminently
successful."

There is one statement in that eulogistic notice of
Sir Richard Sutton to which I must take exception.
And that is that he never had an equal in the two
pursuits of hunting and shooting. Lord Stamford,
his successor in the mastership of the Quorn, I should
feel inclined to rank in quite the same class as Sir
Richard, both as a Master of Hounds and a game-shot,
whilst George Osbaldeston, the famous " Old Squire,"
was unquestionably the equal if not the superior of
his quondam pupil in both sports. No feat of Sir
Richard Sutton's that I have ever heard of can compare

Sir IRtcbarfc Sutton 405

with Osbaldeston's ninety-eight pheasants out of a
hundred shots — a feat, by the way, accomplished over
Sir Richard's preserves. But in the number of head
of game that fell to his own gun in a single day the
baronet, I admit, surpassed the " Old Squire." Sir
Richard is credited with 112^ brace of partridges
to his own gun in 6£ hours ; and Lord Walsingham
referring, I imagine, to another occasion, says, in the
Badminton volume on " Field and Covert Shooting " :
"It was on Abbey Farm (near Thetford, in Norfolk),
the property of Lord Ashburton, that the late Sir
Richard Sutton, one of the finest sportsmen of his
day, killed over one hundred brace of partridges in
1854 during the early part of one day. Being near
the boundary of his own estate he shot his way
home afterwards, and is said to have added between
twenty and thirty brace to his score."

As against this record the " Old Squire's " best days
were, one at Ebberston, his own place in Yorkshire, when
he bagged ninety-five brace of partridges, nine brace
of hares, and five couple of rabbits — 218 head ; and
another which is thus described by his friend Mr. E. H.
Budd, himself a fine shot as well as a splendid all-
round athlete : " I had backed him with Thellusson to
kill eighty brace of partridges in one day. I handed
him the gun for every shot. He killed ninety-seven brace
and a half, and there were five brace and a half of
partridges picked up next day, so that he in reality killed
one hundred and three brace and a half of partridges,
nine hares, and a rabbit in the one day." Mr. Budd
thought this " a feat never equalled in the annals of

4°6 ifcincjs of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anfc <3un

sporting," and I suppose up to that time it had not been
equalled.

Both the "Old Squire" and Sir Richard Sutton,
it must be remembered, shot over dogs in days before
breech-loaders were thought of ; and to kill a hundred
brace of partridges to one's own gun in a single day
was no doubt a remarkable feat. In estimating the
rival exploits of Osbaldeston and Sir Richard Sutton,
however, it must be borne in mind that the latter
shot over an estate where birds were more plentiful
than in any other part of Great Britain, for Norfolk
and Suffolk have always been renowned for the immense
quantities of partridges bred there, whilst in York-
shire, where Osbaldeston's shooting lay, the game is
nothing like as numerous.

I have been unable to discover who was the first
sportsman to bag a hundred brace of birds to his own
gun in a single day. But big bags are not quite such
a modern innovation as testy old sportsmen imagine.
There has been preserved the Game Book of the Chantilly
estate when the Prince de Conde held it a hundred
years ago, and I find there some extraordinary records
of slaughter, especially of partridges. For example, on
August loth, 1785, the Due de Bourbon and six other
guns killed 974 partridges. On September I4th seven
guns accounted for 1,500 head of game, of which 1,106
were partridges. On September 2Oth fourteen guns
killed 1,889 head of game, of which 1,604 were partridges.
On October 7th and 8th fifteen guns killed 4,213
head of game, of which 2,580 were partridges and 1,593
hares. Now, that was in the old flint-lock days, when

Sir TCtcbarfc Sutton 407

double guns were practically unknown, and sportsmen
shot solely with single barrels. And not only must the
game have been extraordinarily plentiful, but the shooting
must have been particularly deadly to account for such
enormous bags, unless the birds and hares were driven
into a kind of corral and murdered by volleys. It is
certain that the annals of English sport could show
nothing within reasonable distance of that record up
to 1864.

But since then there have been extraordinary bags
of partridges made in a single day to a single gun,
which far eclipse the feats of Sutton and Osbaldeston.
For example, in 1884 Earl de Grey, on the Studley
estate, in Yorkshire, killed 300 birds to his own gun.
For the North of England that is a record ; but it is
completely wiped out by the records of the late
Maharajah Dhuleep Singh on his Elvedon estate, in
Suffolk. On September 8th, 1876, the Maharajah,
whose ambition, it is said, was to kill 1,000 partridges
to his own gun in a single day, bagged 780 birds
in 1,000 shots — a feat which has never been ap-
proached by anyone else. In that same year 2,530
partridges fell to his gun in nine days. It is due to
the Maharajah to say that he was one of the quickest
and straightest shooters ever seen ; but this senseless
butchery of hand-reared birds does not speak well for
his sportsmanship.

In Gilbert White's days a sportsman who killed
twenty brace of partridges in a single day was deemed
" unreasonable," even in a season when birds were
unusually plentiful. But then a Hampshire sportsman's

408 ffifngs of tbe 1Rot>, IRifle, anfc (Bun

idea of what was a plentiful supply of birds was very
different from that of a Suffolk or Norfolk sportsman.

Sir Richard Sutton and Squire Osbaldeston, as I have
said, shot over pointers, and thought that half the
pleasure of shooting lay in seeing good dogs at work.
Whether they would have equally enjoyed the present
style of driving is open to doubt. Lord Walsingham,
who of course is a thoroughly up-to-date slayer of
game, says :

" The greatest advocate of driving would scarcely
argue that such fine old sportsmen as Sir Richard
Sutton and Mr. Osbaldeston, and hundreds of others
whose names are associated with the old style, were
mere pot-hunters. On the contrary, all would admire
and respect not only their skill and endurance, but no
less their true instincts, the feu sacre of sport ; and many
who, for the reasons already indicated, greatly owing to
changes in our system of cultivation, have been, as it
were, driven to driving, would have vied with such men
in their day in the keen enjoyment of ' To ho, Ponto ! '
and ' Down charge, Carlo ! ' so often depicted in old
sporting prints. Admitting all that can be said in
favour of shooting over dogs, and by no means desiring
to decry or to despise so genuine a sport, the advocates
of the ' drive ' have a right to ask for equal considera-
tion, and to claim from their opponents a certain
meed of recognition for those advantages which they
attach to it."

Lord Walsingham puts the case very fairly and
moderately, and, as I have elsewhere shown in these
pages, I admit that shooting over dogs is rarely prac-

Sic KHcbarfc Sutton 409

ticable nowadays, and that driving is therefore a necessity
of modern sport. But the huge slaughter-lists are not
a necessity of sport, indeed they are utterly opposed to
the spirit of true sport. They may gratify the clever
marksman : they only disgust the genuine sportsman.

But to return to my muttons. Sir Richard Sutton,
whilst one of the foremost sportsmen of his time, was,
like Assheton Smith, Hugo Meynell, Peter Beckford,
" Gentleman " Smith, and many other British Nimrods,
a man of brains and culture.

" Sir Richard," says one who knew him well, " was
never idle ; after the day's amusements out of doors
were over he would be ever found, unless engaged with
company, occupied with his flute or his book. His stock
of information on all subjects was extraordinary. He
was well qualified to adorn the Senate, but his contempt
for politicians was profound, and, though often solicited,
he always declined a seat in Parliament."

Therein he resembled another famous sportsman
among his contemporaries, Mr. Delme'-Radcliffe, whom
the first Lord Lytton described as " a rare specimen of
an unrivalled combination of talents — a country gentle-
man able to hold his own in any field sport with all his
fellows, and no less qualified to take his seat in the
cabinet of the statesman or the closet of the scholar and
the philosopher." But, though twice strongly pressed to
stand for Hertfordshire, with an undertaking to pay
every farthing of his expenses, Delme'-Radcliffe declined,
and thus the House of Commons lost one of the best
speakers of his day. I don't know that Sir Richard
Sutton possessed any oratorical ability comparable with

ikings of tbe 1Rot>, IRifle, anfc (Bun

that of Delme-Radcliffe, but his shrewd common sense,
his wide knowledge, and his sterling character, would
have made him an invaluable acquisition to an Assembly
in which honesty and business capacity command more
influence and respect than eloquence.

For music Sir Richard possessed an undoubted talent.
Nicholson, the famous flautist, thought so highly of his
proficiency on the flute that he was frequently heard to
say that not only was Sir Richard the best amateur
flautist he ever met, but that he would have proved
a formidable rival to the best professionals, had circum-
stances compelled him to turn to music for a livelihood.

It is curious that the only one of his many tastes
which Sir Richard transmitted to his eldest son was this
one for music. It must, I think, have been a sore
disappointment to him to discover that his heir had not
the slightest proclivity to sport of any kind. John
Sutton, who succeeded to the baronetcy on his father's
death, preferred a suit of " hodden grey " to scarlet, and
the peal of an organ to the cry of hounds. He was,
indeed, one of the finest organ-players, amateur or
professional, of his time, and for many years resided at
Jesus College, Cambridge, of which he was a member,
devoting himself to the study and practice of ecclesiastical
music in general, and the choral services of his own
college chapel in particular. His enthusiasm and
liberality made the choir of Jesus a formidable rival
even to those of King's and Trinity.

In his three younger sons, however, Richard, Frank,
and Charles, the baronet had lads after his own heart.
Richard, the second son, entered the navy, and was with

Sir 1Ricbart> Sutton 41 1

Captain Rous, afterwards " the Admiral " of immortal
Turf renown, on board the Pique frigate in the autumn
of 1835, when her captain performed a notable feat of
seamanship. The Pique, sailing from Quebec to England,
was driven north by contrary winds, and at last struck
upon a sunken reef off the coast of Labrador. For
eleven hours she remained fast on the rocks, and when at
last she floated off, it was with the loss of her keel and
forefoot, with a sprung mainmast and foremast, and,
what was worst of all, with a split rudder, scarcely a
quarter of it being left with which to steer the vessel.
In this fearfully crippled and dilapidated state Captain
Rous sailed his ship home, and reached S pithead in
twenty days, having run the 1,500 miles practically
without a rudder, and with a leak which made two feet
of water an hour !

But, like his skipper, young Richard Sutton loved the
land better than the sea, and preferred horses to ships.
He left the navy and entered the ist Life Guards. His
father had taken great pride in teaching him to ride
from the time he was six years old, and it must have
afforded Sir Richard keen pleasure to see the lad
develop into a first-rate horseman whom no fence could
stop. When he was twenty-one young Richard, as I
have said, took the hounds for two days a week for his
father in the Harborough country. On the Turf, too,
the colours of young Mr. Richard Sutton soon became
conspicuous. His victories in the Cambridgeshire with
Eurydice and Gardevisure, and his winning of the triple
crown with Lord Lyon are triumphs which have secured
him a place for ever on the bead-roll of famous Turfmen.

412 ifcinas of tfoe 1Rofc, Iffifle, an& 6un

In these pursuits, however, Mr. Richard Sutton did not
openly indulge until after his father's death, for Sir
Richard had a strong dislike to racing, and his son
respected his feelings during his lifetime.

Sir Richard's other two boys were also fine horsemen
and good shots, and never did the baronet look prouder
than when he rode out to hunt from Quorn Hall
with his horn at his saddle-bow and his three stalwart
sons at his side.

In the autumn of 1855 Sir Richard was in great form
with the gun, and some of his performances were thought
remarkable enough to deserve special mention in the
sporting press. For example, on October ist he, in
company with two other guns, shot over a portion of the
Duke of Rutland's estate, the Links, near Newmarket,
and bagged in five hours 130 brace of partridges, 41
hares, 39 pheasants, and 3 rabbits — 343 head in all, an
average of one a minute. This, no doubt, will seem a
moderate bag to " swagger " sportsmen of the present
day, but it was thought something considerably out of
the common way in days when " drives " and breech-
loaders were unknown.

On October 3ist, 1855, Sir Richard shot his last
pheasant. On November loth he killed his last
fox.

The meet was at Barkby Hall. The Master's three
sons, Mr. Banks Wright, and the veteran Will Butler
came with him on the drag. The second, or big, pack
was out that day. A fox was soon found, which was
killed in a drain near Queeniborough ; and then Sir
Richard called out, " Will, there's a good fox lives at

Sir TClcbarfc Sutton 413

Scraptoft ; we'll give him a gallop'' And so they did,
ten minutes in covert and five-and-thirty minutes out,
and ran into him near Beeby.

"Jack ! " said the delighted Master to his favourite
whip, " ifs one of the best days I ever saw. I feel a
thousand times better for it. I hope I shall meet you at
Ratcliffe on Tuesday?

The next morning he went up to London on business.

On the Tuesday the hounds met at Ratcliffe. Sir
Richard's favourite hunter was waiting for him at the
covert-side, the pack had just proclaimed by their
stirring music that they had found their fox, the field
was all eager to see him break covert, when up dashed
a groom from Quorn Hall at full gallop, and raising his
hand, shouted to the huntsman, " Stop the hounds."

" What for?" said that functionary gruffly.

" Because Sir Richard is dead?

The words fell like a thunderbolt on all present.
Hounds were promptly stopped and taken back to the
kennels, and the field sadly dispersed, awestricken by
the thought that the " master-spirit " of Leicestershire,
the man whom they had seen among them in full health
and vigour but four days before, was no more.

Sir Richard's death was painfully sudden. He had
eaten a hearty breakfast, had written some letters, and
ten minutes later was found by one of his servants lying
dead. The cause of death was angina-pectoris. He
had not quite completed his fifty-seventh year. But he
came of a short-lived race. His father died at the age
of forty-two, and Sir Richard has had no fewer than four
successors in the baronetcy. None of his descendants,

414 Ifcfngs of tbe 1Rofct IRifle, an& Gun

however, good sportsmen though most of them have
been, has approached his prowess either in the saddle
or with the gun ; nor, for the matter of that, has any
other family in England produced his like in the half-
century which has passed since his death.

For Nature brings not back the Mastodon,
Nor we those times.

William Scrope

IF ever there was a man to whom sport was made easy
it was William Scrope. He was one of those lucky
mortals who are born "with silver spoons in their
mouths," and he was able to gratify to the full his
artistic and sporting tastes without any sordid calcula-
tions as to ways and means. He could study art in
Rome or pursue sport in Scotland as he pleased, with
every luxurious accompaniment that the resources of
civilisation could supply. He carried his books, his
pictures, his paraphernalia for the slaughter of deer and
salmon, whithersoever it seemed good to him to do so.
He could afford to rent at one and the same time three
noble Scottish residences, besides a couple of shooting-
boxes. For years he had the run of the grandest deer-
forest in the Highlands. When the fancy took him to
write a book he could have it produced in the most
sumptuous of bindings, illustrated by the most celebrated
of artists, with supreme indifference as to whether he
lost or gained by the production.

Humbler sportsmen — like John Younger, of St. Bos-
well's, for example — conscious of an equal passion for

415

416 ifctngs of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anb (Bun

sport and superior skill in the pursuit of it, but with
their aspirations cramped and stunted by poverty, eyed
this spoiled darling of Fortune with undisguised jealousy
and contempt. Like the hero of Mr. Charles Leland's
ballad, they exclaimed —

Oh ! how hard is life for many ! oh ! how sweet it is for some !

There must indeed, they thought, be something wrong
in the general order of things when, with the love of
sport so impartially diffused, the means of gratifying it
were so partially and unequally distributed. But it was
no fault of William Scrope's that Fortune had heaped
her favours on him. He found himself so favoured, and
he set himself to make the most of the good things the
gods had provided for him. What more could he do ?
How otherwise would John Younger have acted in the
same position ? But let us see how the fortunate artist
and sportsman used his opportunities.

William Scrope came of a good old North-country
family which had for four centuries left its mark on
history. The Scropes of Bolton, lords of the Lancashire
Marches, had been a power to be reckoned with in the
North Countree from the time that Richard Scrope was
made first Baron of that ilk by Edward III., whom he
served as Lord Treasurer, whilst under his grandson
Richard II. he attained the still higher dignity of
Chancellor of England. Readers of Shakespeare, who
are probably more numerous than students of history,
will remember the part which the Scroops (for so the
name was then spelt and is still pronounced) played in
the Wars of the Roses — Sir Stephen, Lord Scroop, and

I

~.

<y

William Scvope 417

the ill-fated Arcbishop of York, whose trimming cost
him his head.

William Scropc, born in 1772, was a direct descendant
of Richard, the first baron. His father, the Rev. Richard
Scrope, D.D., was in possession of the fine estates of
the Scropes of Castle Combe, in Wiltshire ; and on his
death, in 1785, William succeeded to the property.
Eight years later, in 1793, this fortunate young man
succeeded also to the Cockerington estates, in Lincoln-
shire, which had been in possession of another branch
of the family descended from Adrian Scrope, the
regicide.

Educated at Eton and Oxford, William Scrope had
distinguished himself as a classical scholar. But it was
as an artist that his talents were most conspicuous.
Landscape was his forte, and many pictures of his, the
subjects of which were taken from Scotland, Italy, Sicily,
Switzerland, and the Tyrol, were exhibited in both the
Royal Academy and the British Institution, of which
latter body, founded in 1805, he was one of the most
active directors. Scrope was " assisted " in his painting
by William Simson, a now forgotten Scottish landscape
painter, who acted as " ghost " to the amateur, and
perhaps, like another celebrated " ghost " who figured in
the Belt v. Lawes cause celbbre> imparted to his patron's
pictures much of their artistic merit.

Sir Walter Scott thought Scrope "one of the very
best amateur painters " he ever saw, " Sir George
Beaumont scarcely excepted." But Sir Walter was
by no means an infallible authority on art, and was
always disposed to look with a very kindly eye on the

VOL. II. 6

418 Ifcinss of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anfc (Bun

productions of his friends, whether literary or artistic.
It was a pleasing and human trait in the character of
the " Wizard of the North," but it renders most of his
criticisms of contemporary art and literature absolutely
valueless. And I think few judges of art nowadays
will agree with him as to Scrope's merits as an artist.
Certainly the illustrations to his two great works, " The
Art of Deer-stalking " and " Days and Nights of Salmon-
fishing," in which he is responsible for the landscapes,
though Charles and Edwin Landseer put in the figures,
do not strike me as in any way remarkable. The one
which I have given here is entirely his own work, and
the reader can judge for himself.

I have said that Scrope was a friend of Sir Walter
Scott's. Lockhart says that "he lived on terms of
affectionate intimacy " with Sir Walter. The friendship
began when Scrope became tenant of Lord Somerville's
" Pavilion," opposite to Melrose, in order to enjoy
salmon-fishing in the Tweed. There are several re-
ferences to Scrope in Scott's Diary. One of them runs
thus:

" Saw Cadell as I returned from the Court. He
seemed dejected and gloomy about the extent of stock
of novels, etc., on hand. He infected me with his want
of spirits, and I almost wish my wife had not asked Mr.
Scrope and Charles K. Sharpe for this day. But the
former sent such loads of game that Lady Scott's
gratitude became ungovernable."

But I have no doubt that before dinner was over Sir
Walter had ceased to regret that his guests had been
invited, for if there were any two men in the world whose

Wflltam Scrope 419

society was calculated to drive dull care away they were
William Scrope and Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.

Scrope, in his " Art of Deer-stalking," quotes Sir
Walter as an authority on the excellence of Highland
venison, and writes as follows :

" I have now lying before me a letter from Sir Walter
Scott, to whom I was in the habit of sending Highland
venison (and who was no mean judge of the merits of a
plat de resistance} attesting its excellence. Thus I quote
from it word for word : —

'Thanks, dear sir, for your venison, for finer or fatter
Never roam'd in a forest, or smoked in a platter.

Your superb haunch arrived in excellent time to feast

a new-married couple, the Douglasses of M , and

was pronounced by far the finest that could by possibility
have been seen in Teviot-dale since Chevy Chase. I did
not venture on the carving, being warned both by your
hints, and the example of old Robert Sinclair, who used
to say that he had thirty friends during a fortnight's
residence at Harrowgate, and lost them all in the carving
of one haunch of venison : so I put Lockhart on the
duty, and, as the haunch was too large to require strict
economy, he hacked and hewed it well enough.' "

In 1838 Scrope published his " Art of Deer-stalking,"
the outcome of ten years' sport in the forest of Atholl.
For the Duke had constituted Scrope a sort of amateur
head gamekeeper, and the fortunate painter-sportsman,
luxuriously housed in Bruar Lodge, found himself
practically uncontrolled master of a vast tract of moor
and mountain forty miles long by eighteen broad —

4*0 ikinas of tbe Iftofc, IRffle, an& (Bun

comprising 135,458 acres, of which 30,000 were devoted
to grouse alone, 50,000 partly to grouse and partly to
deer, whilst 52,000 acres were reserved solely for deer.
Here Scrope was enabled to study the " Art of Deer-
stalking" to perfection, and without doubt he made
himself a master of the art. But he always writes
modestly of his own exploits :

"If my success was occasionally very considerable it
must be recollected that the deer were numerous and
that I was assisted by clever scouts. The being my
own stalker, also, was an advantage, that long practice
enabled me to profit from : no one, I think, can make
the best of events when his movements are controlled
by others and are a mystery to himself."

The book consists partly of dialogue, partly of
narrative and description, interspersed with legends and
superstitions, stories of poachers, freebooters, and other
wild men of the woods. The style is lively and agreeable,
and even nowadays the sportsman will not only find
that the advice and information in Scrope's pages stand
the test of time and change, but that the freshness and
charm of the narrative are not a whit lessened by age.

I will present the reader with some samples of William
Scrope as an author at his best. He tells us that deer-
stalking "throws all other field-sports into the back-
ground," and this is the graphic way in which he
endeavours to infect his reader with his own enthusiasm :

" You have hitherto seen nothing but our tame deer,
with their palmated branches, cooped up in ornamental
parks ; and such are picturesque enough ; but when I
show you a herd of these magnificent animals with

Militant Scropc 421

their pointed and widespreading antlers, ranging over
this vast tract, free as the winds of heaven, I think
you will agree with me that there does not exist a
more splendid or beautiful animal ; for, whether he
is picking his scanty food on the mountain tops, or
wandering in solitude through the birch groves, or
cooling himself in the streams, he gives grace, character,
and unity to everything around him. How you feel
I know not, but when I first trod these glorious hills,
and breathed this pure air, I almost seemed to be
entering upon a new state of existence. I felt an
ardour and a sense of freedom that made me look
back with something like contempt upon the tame and
hedgebound country of the south. ... In the pursuit
the stag's motions are so noble, and his reasoning so
acute, that believe me, I had rather follow one hart
from morning till night, with the expectation of getting
a shot (in which I might be probably defeated) than
have the best day's sport with moor-fowl that the hills
could afford me. All your powers of body and mind
are called into action, and if they are not properly
exercised, the clever creature will inevitably defeat
you : it is quite an affair of generalship ; and if you
have any thoughts of the army, I would advise you
to scan all our motions, that you may gain a knowledge
of ground and skirmishing. You will find that almost
every step we shall take has a meaning in it ; we shall
creep along crafty paths, between clefts and recesses,
and make rapid and continuous runs, according to the
various motions of the quarry ; so that when the deer
are afoot, the interest and excitement will never flag

422 ikings of tfoe 1Rot>, IRffle, an& Gun

for one single moment. See what a boundless field
for action is here, and what a sense of power these rifles
give you, which are fatal at such an immense distance !
When you are in good training, and feel that you can
command the deer, your bodily powers being equal
to take every possible chance, the delight of this chase
is excessive ; and here ends my eulogy."

But those " bodily powers " must be exceptional, and
Scrope's enumeration of the physical and mental qualities
necessary to form an ideal deer-stalker is enough to
make any ordinary man quail from attempting a sport
so exacting. His muscle must be of marble and his
sinews of steel ; he must be able to run like an antelope
and breathe like the trade-winds. He must be a
stranger to sleep, with a hand steady as a rock, and
at times wholly without a pulse. He must be " patient
under suspense and disappointment, calm and unruffled
in moments of intense interest." And he must be
temperate to the verge of asceticism. His potations
in particular must be moderate. None of your floods
of whisky-toddy whereof Christopher romanced in the
" Noctes " ! No ; moderation — strict moderation ! But
it is when he comes to define moderation that we
perceive that the author of " The Art of Deer-stalking "
has his tongue in his cheek :

"The best part of a bottle of champagne may be
allowed at dinner : this is not only venial but salutary.
A few tumblers of brandy and soda-water are greatly
to be commended, for they are cooling. Whisky can-
not reasonably be objected to, for it is an absolute
necessary, and does not come under the name of

THUIUam Scrope 423

intemperance, but rather, as Dogberry says, or ought
to say, ' it comes by nature.' Ginger-beer I hold
to be a dropsical, insufficient and unmanly beverage ;
I pray you avoid it ; and as for your magnums and
pottle-deep potations, why really at this season of the
year, as Captain Bobadil says, ' We cannot extend thus
far.' "

After all, then, deer-stalking has its compensations, and
one need not be an anchorite to enjoy the sport.

But it is odd that, whilst dwelling so minutely upon
other details in the deer-stalking equipment, Scrope gives
no directions on the dress most suitable for such sport.
If one may judge from the illustration which is here
reproduced and from others in his book, the deer-stalker
of Scrope's day adopted a costume which would cause
him to be hooted as a guy nowadays. Think of
stalking deer in a frock coat, tightly-strapped trousers,
and patent leather shoes ! Yet keen as his sense of
humour was, Scrope apparently saw nothing funny
or bizarre in such an outfit.

How keen that sense of humour was is proved by
many racy passages in his delightful books. Here is one
instance which, despite its tendency to prolixity, I shall
make no apology for quoting in full. It is a narrative
of the adventures of a French sportsman among the
deer in the great forest of the Duke of Atholl.

" ' Jov> Jov to vou> Lightfoot ; they say you have killed
two first-rate harts ; what a happy mortal you must
be ! But do, pray, tell me who that smart foreigner
is, who so nearly spoiled all our sport ? '

' Most readily will I give you his history, partly

424 Iktnas of tbe TCofc, IRifle, an& 6un

collected from the hill-men, and partly from my own
observation ; for when this grand affair took place I
heard and saw all.

He is a French noble, who has had the merit of
bringing himself into notice as a famous shot ; not, as
I conceive, from any feats of skill that he has actually
performed, but simply from his excellent soi disant
qualities. He is, as you see, beautifully equipped ;
that, indeed, no one can deny ; dressed too in the
most elaborate fashion. See how knowingly his rifle
is slung in the German fashion. I assure you that, what
with his gay good humour, and foreign singularity,
he has attracted a considerable degree of observation.
" His discourse is sweet and voluble " ; but aged ears
by no means " played truant with his tales" ; for John
Crerar and the older sportsmen discovered properties
in him quite adequate, they said, to destroy the sport
of a whole season. What was to be done? If he
remained in the glen, it was imperative on him to be
totally silent : singing French airs was out of the
question. The deer, said the Duke, were not to be had
as in the time of Orpheus ; on the contrary, it was
more becoming to be mute, and to lie concealed like
Marius in the marshes of Minturnae, and somewhat
better. But it seemed quite evident that nothing short
of the combined powers of laudanum and a strait-
waistcoat could effect any restraint upon our gentle-
man. These were not at hand, and if they had been
so, it might perhaps have been thought somewhat
inhospitable to have used them ; so that idea was
dropped, at once. In this dilemma it was deemed

Militant Scropc 425

advisable to send him up with the drivers, to plague
you : in short it was resolved that he should evacuate
the glen. He started joyfully, for he was a famous
walker — out of all sight the best in France ; indeed
no one in any country was equal to him. But the
hill-men asserted that this was not his particular
walking day ; so that I am told he soon became most
deplorably exhausted, and according to all accounts,
delayed the drive at least an hour or so. Fortune
bounteously gave him many fair shots ; but alas, what
she distributed with one hand, she took away with
the other, for he missed them clean every one.

"Mat's cest ttonnant cela. I who never make the
miss ! "

" Perhaps your honour forgot to put in the baal."

" Ah ! voila ce que c'esty vous Favez trouv^ mon ami.
Le moyen de tuer sans balle ! Now then, I put in the
powder of cannon, and there goes de balle upon the top
of it — mort de ma vie! I now kill all the stag in
Scotland ; expect a leetle, and you shall surproise
much."

He was a bad prophet, for he still went on, missing as
before amongst winking hill-men and grinning gillies.
At length, however, the sun of his glory (which had been
so long eclipsed) shone forth in amazing splendour.
" Fortune," says Fluellen, " is painted upon a wheel to
signify to you (which is the moral of it) that she is
turning and inconstant, and mutabilities and variations " :
and the turn was now in the Count's favour, for she
directed his unwilling rifle right towards the middle of a
herd of deer, which stood " thick as the autumnal leaves

426 ifcfnas of tbe TCofc, IRffle, ant) (Bun

that strew the brooks of Vallombrosa." Everything
was propitious : circumstance, situation and effect ; for
he was descending the mountain in full view of our
whole assemblage of sportsmen. A fine stag, in the
midst of the herd fell to the crack of his rifle. " Hah,
hah ! " forward ran the Count, and sat upon the prostrate
deer triumphing. " H£ bieny mon ami, vous etes mort
done! Moijefais toujours des coups stirs. Ah! pauvre
enfant I " He then patted the sides of the animal in
pure wantonness, and looked east, west, north, and
south for applause, the happiest of the happy ; finally
he extracted a mosaic snuff-box from his pocket, and
with an air that nature has denied to all save the French
nation, he held a pinch to the deer's nose. " Prends, mon
amiy prends done? This operation had scarcely been
performed when the hart, which had only been stunned,
or perhaps shot through the loins, sprang up suddenly,
overturned the Count, ran away, and was never seen
again.

" Arrete-toi, traitre> arrete> mon enfant I Ah, c'est un
enfant perdu ! A lies done a tons les diables ! "

Thus ended the Count's chasse. Everybody was sorry,
and nobody laughed ; as for me, by my troth I never
follow the Frenchman's fashion in deer-stalking."

As a specimen of what was deemed good sport in
those days, take the following description of a deer-
drive in the Atholl Forest. " Tortoise," I should state, is
Scrope himself, the crafty, wary old hunter, as he loved
to picture himself; "Lightfoot" and Harry are his
friends Edwin and Charles Landseer.

" See the noble herd are come in view ! Na-Shean-

Militant Scrope 427

Tulichcan never bore upon his green swells a prouder
burthen. The antlers rise and sink over its heights ;
the hinds and calves pass belling along, whilst we
(practising, at least for once in our lives, the virtue
of forbearance) feel all the torments that the fabled and
thirsty sinner felt as he caught at the flying waters.

And now the great bulk of the herd had passed over
the knows, and were out of sight ; still they came on in
numbers ; but ever as they passed the antlers grew
scarcer and scarcer. Tortoise pressed the arm of
his companion in silence ; at length he removed his
hand.

1 Now then, all is safe ; follow me.'

He sank out of sight over the hill to the west with
rapid foot and bent body, and then came in more
southwards, within shot of the tail deer, when both
sportsmen knelt down on the heather. As the hinds
came on, an anxious look was sent to the rear, in hopes
to descry the points of an approaching antler. At length
the horns actually did appear, and Lightfoot, all
trembling with eagerness, was clapping his rifle to his
shoulder, when Tortoise stayed him, gently whispering
in his ear, ' A worthless beastie, my good fellow ; let
him pass ; remember the four-year-old, — the enormous
monster — the haud credo : this is a twin to him.' But
nothing better came on — nought but rubbish. So not
a shot was fired.

They now gave the deer a little time to get on, and
then peeped through the heather tops at the slope of
the green knows. There they saw the vast herd below
them, which had kept increasing their forces as they

428 ifcfnss of tbe 1Rot>, IRtfle, an& Oun

passed the lower grounds. There might be some four
or five hundred of them altogether.

The deer now began to form into a more compact
body. Some looked back, some towards the slaps in
the dykes, others to the east and west. Now they drew
up on an eminence to the east : they longed for the
security of the woods, but were afraid to venture.
Sometimes they were about to break to the west, some-
times on the opposite quarter ; but at every point they
met with opposition. At these critical moments various
were the pushes made by the sportsmen in the rear to
each flank of the green knows, in accordance with their
motions. Still as they ran they were concealed under
the rising ground. Pressed on their flanks, and alarmed
on their rear, the woods seemed the only refuge for the
herd ; and a long string of harts and hinds raced away
within shot of the stone dyke that bounded them ; the
rest of the body lingered behind, as if to ascertain how
the experiment would succeed.

Now began the din of arms : two rifle shots echoed
through the hollow woods, and two noble harts bit the
dust. * That must be the Duke's deed : it is his Grace's
usual station ; besides it was done so cleverly.' Other
shots followed, more or less successful, which turned the
leaders, and those that came up in the rear sprang high
in the air over their fallen comrades, wheeled back and
all again assembled on the flat ground. They now knew
that they were beset on all sides, and soon came to a
decision. The hinds had hitherto taken the lead ; but,
pressed as they now were, a more undaunted chief took
the command Stern and determined, a magnificent

Militant Scrope 429

hart stepped forth from the ranks, and stood singly for a
space in all his vast proportion.

For a few moments he shifted his gaze from man to
man ; then he made a desperate charge, followed by the
rest of the body. It was evident now, that they were
breaking out on the west ; they all swept round behind
a low rise of ground in that quarter, at the top of
their speed.

' Now then, Harry, run low, and do your best.'

Down he and Tortoise came upon them, and arrived
just in time for the middle of the herd. Two fine harts
fell to their rifles. And again, as they raced by the
peat stacks, another party fired at them ; and they came
so close to the hill-men that they flung their sticks at
them, and had they not given way would have trampled
them to the earth. They now broke back over the
moor, and were no longer thought of. It would have
required much skill and many hours to get the wind
of them again. . . .

There were six first-rate harts slain at the wood, and
two lesser harts and two hinds at the peat stacks. The
Duke of Atholl's deer (he had shot three in all) were the
largest ; for he had ever a quick eye, and an amazing
tact in selecting his quarry."

Of the skill and daring of the deer-poachers Scrope
gives many illustrations, of which I select one. A
renowned poaching gow-crom (blacksmith) of Badenoch
was run down and captured by the Duke's keepers red-
handed, for he actually shot the deer they were stalking.

" The notorious blacksmith was soon taken down to
Glen Tilt and brought in presence of the Duke of Atholl :

43° Ifcin^s of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anfc 6un

after a sharp remonstrance, his Grace asked him whether
he would go to Perth gaol for three months, or stand a
shot from his rifle at a hundred paces. The man said
he would stand the shot.

' Very well ; John Crerar, step out a hundred yards.'

The ground was measured.

' Now post the man with his front right towards me
and give me my best rifle, John/

The rifle was given, and raised slowly, whilst the hill-
men stood by in a group in breathless suspense ; the
direction of their eyes changing alternately from his
Grace to the man. A long and steady aim was taken—
it was an awful moment, but the blacksmith neither
flinched nor stirred ; at length the cap of the rifle only
exploded.

' Pshaw ! Give me another rifle, John, and take care
that it be better loaded.'

The second rifle missed fire also, as well it might, it
having been of course arranged that there should be no
charge in it.

* Well, you are a lucky fellow, for I see your time is
not yet come. Give the man his fill of whisky, John ;
he does not lack courage : but mark me, Master Gow-
Crom, if ever you come after my deer again, my rifle will
not miss fire ; and if it does, the gaol at Perth is large
enough to hold you, and all the poachers in Badenoch,
though ye are a numerous progeny.'

' I wunna say that I will gang entirely wi'out my
sport, for I canna aye be wanting venison ; but yer
Grace shall never find me in yer forest again. There's
mony a stoot hart in Glenfiddick, and mony a yell hind

Scrope 43 1

in the pine woods o' Braemar, let alone Gaick and Glen
Feshie ; and I will leave the braes of Atholl for yer
Grace to tak yer pleasure in, and never fash them more
since ye request the favour.' "

Seven years after the appearance of " The Art of
Deer-stalking," in 1845, Scrope published "Days and
Nights of Salmon-fishing in the Tweed." The second
book was in externals an exact facsimile of the first,
sumptuously bound, and illustrated by engravings of
pictures by David Wilkie, the two Landseers, and the
author himself.

There were some who thought that William Scrope
did not know as much about salmon-fishing as he did
about deer-stalking, and that what he did know had been
picked up at second hand. Only once in the most casual
way does he mention the name of John Haliburton as
his professional fisherman, yet, if John Younger is to be
believed, Haliburton had a great deal more to do with
Mr. Scrope's success in salmon-fishing than that gentle-
man was willing to admit. This is what the St.
Boswell's shoemaker has to say on this subject in his
Autobiography.

" While Haliburton was on the Dryburgh water, Mr.
Scrope came here, following his fishing tastes. He had
been on a jaunt around a number of the fishing stations
in Scotland, and, calling in for some days with John at
Dryburgh, became quite delighted with the river and
John together. As he then expressed it to Philip Garrat
his chief servant, he found John the most able, handy
and ingenious fisherman he had ever met with.

Scrope, supplanting George Sanderson and old John

432 Ifcinss of tfoe 1Ro&, IRifle, an& Gun

Wight of Kipper Hall and Crago'er, took the Mertoun
water at a rent double or treble of theirs, and engaged
Haliburton at a guinea a week to leave Dryburgh and
become his fisherman attendant at Mertoun. John
hesitated a little on this, as he had succeeded so well in
Dryburgh as to have saved £60 in the few years he had
been there. But with a blaze of generous appearances
Scrope prevailed, and John left Dryburgh (where through
his advice George Johnstone succeeded him) and went
to the Mertoun water with Mr. Scrope, whose first seven
or ten years of regular training on the Tweed here, was
under Haliburton's regular tuition. John regularly
dressed his standard flies, and every day directed their
particular application, carried him for some seasons out
and in to the boat on his back over the shallows every
time a fish was hooked, before either of the two had
contrived that I should make him light leather boots,
which he could find comfortable in which to wade dry.

In fine fishing days he used to keep two rods in the
boat, with an extra rower. He pleased himself by
hooking the fish, when he handed the rod to Haliburton
to wade ashore with it, there to run and kill the fish,
while he should angle for another, in order to see what
number he could be said to murder in a given time ; for,
of course, the main manager and worker in this case, as
frequently in similar cases (even in the taking of towns
and kingdoms) stood only as a nameless auxiliary : — all
this while Haliburton and I happened to keep in such
friendly intimacy that we generally agreed to the most
minute speck of tip, spot, shade, and spreckle in hair,
wool, and feather, in the dressing of hooks."

TRAilliam Scrope 433

Now, John Younger was an honest man as well as a
good sportsman, and I daresay in the main what I have
quoted may be true ; but then, as I have already shown,
Mr. Scrope, with his wealth and his luxury, and his
grand seigneur modes of sport, had an effect upon the
excellent shoemaker so exasperating and irritating that
he can hardly be trusted to write or speak of his bete
noire with absolute fairness and impartiality. Therefore
it would be advisable, perhaps, to take honest John's state-
ments on this subject with a considerable pinch of salt.

How William Scrope first became a "fisher for
salmon " is very humorously told in " Days and Nights
of Salmon-fishing," but at too great length to be quoted
entire. I will therefore condense the narrative. He
had started off from Selkirk one morning for trout-
fishing in the Ettrick with a handsome rod by the then
famous London maker Higginbotham. He had killed
two trout, a five-pounder and a two-pounder, and was
immensely proud of himself in consequence. What
happened next I will let him tell in his own words :

" I had not long completed this immortal achievement
ere I saw a native approaching, armed with a prodigious
fishing rod of simple construction, guiltless of colour or
varnish. He had a belt round his waist, to which was
fastened a large wooden reel or pirn, and the line passed
from it through the rings of his rod : a sort of Wat
Tinlinn he was to look at. ...

' What sport,' said I, ' my good friend ? '

1 1 canna say I hae had muckle deversion, for she is
quite fallen in, and there will be no good fishing till
there comes a spate.' . . .

VOL. II. 7

434 Ikinss of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, anb (Bun

'Then you think there is not much chance for any
one, and least of all for a stranger like myself.'

' I dinna think the like o' ye can do muckle, though
I will no say but ye may light on a wee bit trout, or
may be on a happening fish. That's a bonny little
wand you've got ; and she shimmers so with varnish,
that I'm thinking that when she is in the eye o' the sun
the fish will come aneath her, as they do to the blaze in
the water.'

Sandy was evidently lampooning my Higginbotham.
I therefore replied that she had. more shining qualities
than were often met with on the northern side of the
Tweed. At this personality, my pleasant friend took
out a large mull from his pocket, and applying a copious
quantity of its contents to his nose, politely responded, —
'Ye needna fash yoursel' to observe about the like
o' her ; she is no worth this pinch o' snuff.'

He then very courteously handed his mull to me.
' Well,' said I, still modestly, ' she will do well enough
for a bungler like me.' I was trolling for a compliment.
* Ay, that she will,' said he.

Though a little mortified, I was not sorry to get him
to this point ; for I knew I could overwhelm him with
facts, and the more diffidently I conducted myself the
more complete would be my triumph. So laying down
my pet rod on the channel, I very deliberately took out
my two-pounder as a feeler. He looked particularly
well ; for I had tied up his mouth, that he might keep
his shape, and moistened him with soaked fern to pre-
serve his colour. I fear I looked a little elate on the
occasion : assuredly I felt so.

THUIHam Scrope 435

' There's a fine fish, now, — a perfect beauty ! '
' Hout, tout ! that's no fish avaY

{ No fish, man ! What the deuce is it, then ? Is it a
rabbit, or a wild duck, or a water-rat ? '

1 You are joost gin daft. Do ye no ken a troot when
ye see it ? '

I could make nothing of this answer, for I thought
that a trout was a fish ; but it seems I was mistaken.
However, I saw the envy of the man ; so I determined
to inflict him with a settler at once. For this purpose I
inveigled him to where my five-pounder was deposited ;
then kneeling down and proudly removing the bracken
I had placed over him, there lay the monster most
manifest, extended in all his glory. ... I gave a
smart turn of my body, and placing an arm akimbo,
said, in an exulting tone, and with a scrutinising look,
' There, what do you think of that ? ' I did not see the
astonishment in Sawny's face that I had anticipated,
neither did he seem to regard me with the least degree
of veneration ; but giving my pet a shove with his nasty
iron-shod shoes, he simply said,

' Hout ! that's a wee bit gilse.'

This was laconic. I could hold no longer for I hate a
detractor ; so I roundly told him that I did not think
he had ever caught so large a fish in all his life.

'Did you, now ? — own.'

' I suppose I have.'

' Suppose ! But don't you know ? '

1 1 suppose I have.'

' Speak decidedly, yes or no. That is no answer.'

1 Well, then, I suppose I have.'

436 Iktngs of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc (Bun

And this was the sum total of what I could extract
from this nil admirari fellow.

A third person now joined us, whom I afterwards
discovered to be the renter of that part of the river.
He had a rod and tackle of the self same fashion with
the apathetic man. . . .

* Well, Sandy/ said he to his piscatorial friend, my
new acquaintance, 'what luck the morn?'

' I canna specify that I hae had muckle ; for they hae
bin at the sheep-washing up bye, and she is foul, ye ken.
But I hae ta'en twa saumon, — ane wi' Nancy, and the
ither wi1 a Toppy — baith in Faldon-side Burn fut.'

And twisting round a coarse linen bag which was
slung at his back, and which I had supposed to contain
some common lumber, he drew forth by the tail a never-
ending monster of a salmon, dazzling and lusty to the
view ; and then a second, fit consort to the first. Could
you believe it ? One proved to be fifteen pounds, and
the other twelve ! At the sudden appearance of these
whales I was shivered to atoms : dumbfoundered I was,
like the Laird of Cockpen, when Mrs. Jean refused the
honour of his hand. I felt as small as Flimnap the
treasurer in the presence of Gulliver. Little did I say ;
but that little, I hope, was becoming a youth in my
situation. {

I was now fairly vaccinated. By dint of snuff and
whisky I made an alliance with the tenant of the water ;
and being engaged for that year to join my friends at
Edinburgh, and go on a shooting excursion to the
Hebrides and the north of Scotland, I resolved to revisit
the Tweed the summer following."

Militant Scrope 437

And that was how William Scrope became a salmon-
fisher.

There never was angler yet who had not some
marvellous fish-stories to tell. Mr. Scrope is no excep-
tion to the rule. Some of the yarns which he retails,
without vouching for their truth, are calculated to
make even seasoned romancers " gasp and stare." But
here is a genuine experience in angling which happened
to William Scrope himself, and therefore may be accepted
as true.

" At a rather more advanced period of my life, I
used to make long fishing excursions, generally with
prosperous, but occasionally with disastrous results. I
remember well, when a pair of bait hooks was to me a
valuable concern, I hooked two large, black-looking
trouts in a deep pool at the same time. As I had to pull
them several feet upwards, against the pressure of the
stream, my line gave way and left me proprietor of a
small fragment only. For some time I looked alternately
at my widowed rod and my departed fish ; which last
were coursing round and round the pool, pulling in
opposite directions, like coupled dogs of dissenting
opinions : durum, sed levius fit patientia. So I sat down
with somewhat of a rueful countenance, and began to
spin with my fingers some horsehair which I had pulled
that morning, at the risk of my life, from the grey colt's
tail. This being done in my own peculiar manner, and
my only remaining hook being tied on with one of the
aforesaid hairs, I continued to follow my sport down the
stream for about half a mile. After the lapse of a
considerable time, I had occasion to cross bare-legged

438

of tfoe 1Rofc, 1Riflet an& (Bun

from one bank to the other. In my transit through the
current, I found something like a sharp instrument
cutting the calves of my legs. I scampered ashore,
under the impression that I was trailing after me some
sharp toothed monster, perhaps a lamper eel ; when
upon passing down my hand to ascertain the fact, I
found to my great astonishment and delight, that I was
once more in possession of my lost line, hooks, fish and
all. The fish had fairly drowned each other, and by a
curious coincidence, were passively passing in the current
at the time my legs stemmed it."

Here is a curiosity in angling which the author relates
of a fisherman whom he knew well in the service of the
Duke of Atholl :

"'The Tay trout/ says John Crerar (I copy from his
MS.), ' lives in that river all the year round. It is a
large and yellow fish, with a great mouth, and feeds
chiefly on salmon-spawn, moles, mice, frogs, etc. A
curious circumstance once happened to me at Pulney
Loch. One of my sons threw a live mouse into it, when
a large trout took the mouse down immediately. The
boy told me what had happened ; so I immediately took
my fishing rod, which was leaning against my house
close to the loch, and put a fly on. At the very first
throw I hooked a large trout, landed it, and laid it on
the walk : in two seconds the mouse ran out of its
mouth, and got into a hole in the wall before I could
catch it,'" ~.-:

From William Scrope's many exciting adventures with
salmon I select the following for quotation, because he
himself says that it was the finest bit of sport he ever

Tffllilltam Gcrope 439

had with the rod. The Charlie Purdie here mentioned,
I should explain, was his professional fisherman, the son
of Sir Walter Scott's famous factotum Tom Purdie, the
hero of many stones told by Lockhart in his Life of
Sir Walter.

" I commenced operations at the Carry-wheel, which
is nearly at the head of the Pavilion-water. . . . Having
executed one or two throws, there comes me a voracious
fish, and makes a startling dash at Meg-with-the-muckle-
mouth. Sharply did I strike the catiff ; whereat he
rolled round disdainful, making a whirl in the water of
prodigious circumference : it was not exactly Charybdis
or the Maelstrom, but rather more like the wave
occasioned by the sudden turning of a man-of-war's
boat. Being hooked, and having by this turn set his
nose peremptorily down the stream, he flashed and
whizzed away like a rocket. My situation partook of
the nature of a surprise. Being on a rocky shore, and
having a bad start, I lost ground at first considerably ;
but the reel sang out joyously, and yielded a liberal
length of line, that saved me from the disgrace of being
broke. I got on the best pace I was able, and was on
good ground just as my line was nearly all run out. As
the powerful animal darted through Meg's Hole I was
just able to step back and wind up a few yards of line ;
but he still went a killing pace, and when he came near
Melrose Bridge he evinced a distressing preference for
passing through the farther arch, in which case my line
would have been cut by the pier. My heart sank with
apprehension, for he was near the opposite bank. Purdie,
seeing this, with great presence of mind took up some

440 1kin05 of tbe 1Rot>, IRifle, an& Gun

stones from the channel, and threw them one by one
between the fish and the said opposite bank. This
naturally brought Master Salmo somewhat nearer ; but
still for a few moments we had a doubtful struggle for it.
At length, by lowering the head of the rod, and thus not
having so much of the ponderous weight of the fish
to encounter, I towed him a little sideways ; and so
advancing towards me with propitious fin, he shot
through the arch nearest to me.

Deeply immersed, I dashed after him as best I might ;
and arriving on the other side of the bridge I floundered
out upon dry land, and continued the chase. The
salmon ' right orgillous and presumptive,' still kept the
strength of the stream, and abating nothing of his vigour,
went swiftly down the Whirls ; then through the Boat
shiel, and over the shallows, till he came to the throat of
the Elm-wheel, down which he darted amain. Owing to
the bad ground, the pace here became exceedingly dis-
tressing. I contrived however to keep company with
my fish, still doubtful of the result, till I came to the
bottom of the long cast in question, when he still showed
fight, and sought the shallows below. Unhappily the
alders prevented my following by land, and I was
compelled to take water again, which slackened my
speed. But the stream soon expanding, the current
diminishing, my fish likewise travelled more slowly ; so
I gave a few sobs and recovered my wind a little,
gathered up my line, and tried to bring him to terms.
But he derided my efforts, and dashed off for another
burst triumphant. Not far below lay the rapids of the
Slaughter ford : he would soon gain them at the pace

TOlliam Scropc 441

he was going, that was certain ; — see, he is there already !
But I back out again on dry land, nothing loth, and have
a fair race with him. Sore work it is. I am a pretty
fair runner, as has often been testified ; but his velocity
is surprising. On, on,— still on he goes, ploughing up
the water like a steamer. * Away with you, Charlie !
Quick, quick, man — quick for your life ! Loosen the
boat at the Cauld Pool, where we shall soon be.' And
so indeed we were, when I jumped into the said craft,
still having good hold of my fish.

The Tweed is here broad and deep, and the salmon
had at length become somewhat exhausted ; he still kept
in the strength of the stream, however, with his nose
seawards, and hung heavily. At last he comes near the
surface of the water. See how he shakes his tail and
digs downwards, seeking the deep profound — that he will
never gain. His motions become more short and
feeble ; he is evidently doomed, and his race well nigh
finished. Drawn into the bare water, and not approving
of the extended cleik, he makes another swift rush, and
repeats this effort each time that he is towed to the
shallows. At length he is cleiked in earnest, and hauled
to shore : he proves one of the grey scull, newly run, and
weighs somewhat above twenty pounds. The hook is
not in his mouth, but in the outside of it ; in which case
a fish being able to respire freely, always shows
extraordinary vigour, and generally sets his head down
the stream.

During the whole period of my experience in fishing,
though I have had some sharp encounters, yet I never
knew any sport equal to this. I am out of breath even

442 iktnss of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anfc 6un

now, whenever I think of it. I will trouble any surveyor
to measure the distance from the Kingswell Lees, the
starting spot, above Melrose Bridge, to the end of the
Cauld Pool, the death place, by Melrose Church, and to
tell me how much less it is than a mile and three
quarters."

A more tremendous fight than even the foregoing,
however, was the following, which the reader is at liberty
to swallow or not as he pleases :

"In the month of July, some thirty years ago, one
Duncan Grant, a shoemaker by profession, who was
more addicted to fishing than to his craft, went up the
way from the village of Aberlour, in the north, to take
a cast in some of the pools above Elchies-water. He
had no great choice of tackle, as may be conceived ;
nothing, in fact, but what was useful, and scant supply
of that.

Duncan tried one or two pools without success, till
he arrived at a very deep and rapid stream facetiously
termed the Mountebank : here he paused, as if meditating
whether he should throw his line or not. ' She is very
big,' said he to himself, 'but I'll try her ; if I grip him
he'll be worth the handing.' He then fished it, a step
and a throw, about half way down when a heavy splash
proclaimed that he had raised him, though he missed
the fly. Going back a few paces, he came over him
again, and hooked him. The first tug verified to Duncan
his prognostication, that if he was there ' he would be
worth the handing ' ; but his tackle had thirty plies of
hair next the fly, and he held fast, nothing daunted.
Give and take went on with dubious advantage, the

HHUUtam Scrope 443

fish occasionally sulking. The thing at length became
serious ; and, after a succession of the same tactics,
Duncan found himself at the Boat of Aberlour, seven
hours after he had hooked his fish, the said fish fast
under a stone, and himself completely tired. He had
some thoughts of breaking his tackle, and giving the
thing up ; but he finally hit upon an expedient to rest
himself, and at the same time to guard against the sur-
prise and consequence of a sudden movement of the
fish. He laid himself down comfortably on the bank,
the butt end of his rod in front, and most ingeniously
drew out part of his line which he held in his teeth.
' If he rugs when I'm sleeping,' said he, ' I think I'll find
him noo ' ; and no doubt it is probable that he would.
Accordingly, after a comfortable nap of three or four
hours, Duncan was awoke by a most unceremonious tug
at his jaws. In a moment he was on his feet, his rod
well up, and the fish swattering down the stream. He
followed as best he could, and was beginning to think of
the rock at Craigellachie, when he found to his great
relief that he could 'get a pull on him.' He had now
comparatively easy work, and exactly twelve hours after
hooking him, he cleiked him at the head of Lord Fife's
water: he weighed fifty-four pounds, Dutch, and had
the tide lice upon him."

Good sportsman as he was, William Scrope shows
a leaning towards illegitimate modes of sport which will
provoke a sigh of regret, if no stronger expression of
feeling, from the angler of to-day. Unlike John Younger,
who detested the practice of spearing or " leistering "
salmon by torchlight, Scrope regarded it as fine sport.

444 Ifctngs of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc Gun

He gives an animated account of a night with the spear,
which shows how keenly he enjoyed the picturesque
incidents of the pastime. In this respect, however, he
is no worse than Sir Walter Scott, whose description of
salmon-leistering in " Guy Mannering " is written with
a spirit and gusto which betray his own admiration of
that unhallowed sport.

But William Scrope goes further. After discoursing
on leistering, rake-hooking, and other nefarious modes
of catching salmon, he says :

" All this to the Southern ear sounds like poaching of
the most flagitious description ; but a salmon is a fish
of passage, and if you do not get him to-day he will be
gone to-morrow. . . . Keep close time strictly ; kill no
spawning fish ; tamper not with foul ones of any sort ;
preserve the fry ; send the black fishers to Iceland : but
catch as many salmon as you can, recte si possis (meaning,
with a rod) si non> quocunque modo — that is, with a net,
leister, and so forth."

Other times, other manners. Were Scrope to revisit
the glimpses of the moon he would hardly dare to write
in that strain now ; if he did, he would find himself
ostracised from the society of all respectable sportsmen.

It is worth noting that, despite the great increase in
the number of anglers, despite the abominations of dye-
works and sewers which have sullied the purity of its
waters, Tweed can show bigger fish now than it did
in Scrope's time. " During my experience of twenty
years," he writes, " I never caught one there above
30 Ibs., and very few above 20 Ibs." Now, in 1 873 a
fish of 57 Ibs. was taken out of Tweed with the rod, in

TlClillfam Scrope 445

1886 one of 57 J Ibs., in 1889 one of 53 Ibs., in 1891 one
of 51 J Ibs., and fish of 40 Ibs. and upwards are killed by
anglers in these waters every autumn. The angler who
lands one of 30 Ibs. or 35 Ibs. does not think that he
has done anything unusual. Doubtless, as Sir Herbert
Maxwell suggests, the improvement in the size of the
fish is owing to the protection of keifs — z>., adult fish
which have spawned and are unfit for food.

And here I take my leave of William Scrope and his
two delightful books, which have afforded a great fund
of pleasure to many a good sportsman dead and gone.
Charles Kingsley, I remember, was amongst the most
ardent of Scrope's admirers, and called him " a prince
among sportsmen." New and handsome editions of
"The Art of Deer-stalking " and "Days and Nights of
Salmon-fishing" have been recently issued, and the
sportsman of to-day may, an it so please him, dip into
the pages which enthralled his father and grandfather,
though, in his lordly consciousness of superiority in
sport, he can hardly be expected to bring the same zest
to his reading as they did.

Of William Scrope himself there is little more to tell.
He died, in his seventy-first year, on July 2Oth, 1852, at
his London house in Belgrave Square. He was the
last male representative of his ancient line. His only
daughter married George Julius Poulet, who assumed
the name and arms of the Scropes, and added some
lustre to the house of his adoption by his distinguished
career as a geologist and political economist.

The Hon. Grantley F. Berkeley

IT was in the autumn of 1874 that I first made the
acquaintance of the Hon. Grantley Berkeley. I was
then editing a well-known sporting journal, and he
called upon me in reference to a leading article of
mine which had attracted his attention. He approved
of the sentiments expressed in the leader, and said he
should like to contribute to the journal. His name
was still so familiar to sportsmen that I thought any-
thing he might write would be of interest, and con-
sequently I accepted his offer. The articles which
he contributed were, I think, the last that came from
his pen. They were characteristically discursive and
abusive. The chief objects of his abuse were modern
methods of sport and the propaganda of latter-day
Radicalism ; but he lashed out indiscriminately at
pretty nearly every existing institution, on the general
principle that whatever is, is wrong, if it differed in
any way from what had been the vogue in his youth.
He was then an old man, but hale, erect, and
stalwart, with rude, I may almost say coarse, health
writ large upon his rubicund face. His interest in

446

THE HON. GRANTLEY F. BERKELEY.

ZTbe 1bcm. (Brantles jf. Berfcelep 447

sport was as keen as ever, and his reminiscences had
always something racy about them, all the more,
perhaps, because of his sublime egoism. No one,
however, can deny that he was a good sportsman, and
in practical knowledge of wood-craft he had few equals
in his day. These are the points in his character
which I shall endeavour to emphasise in the following
sketch of his career.

The Honourable George Charles Grantley Fitzhardinge
Berkeley, to give him his full title, was the sixth son
of Frederick Augustus, fifth Earl of Berkeley, and was
born on February 6th, 1800. His father's marriage
was the subject of a prolonged and painful scandal
which gained publicity through the attempts of the
eldest son, Colonel Berkeley, afterwards created Baron,
and finally Earl, Fitzhardinge, to make good his claim
to the earldom.

The fifth Earl, when a young cavalry officer, formed
an intimacy with Mary Cole, the daughter of a
Gloucester tradesman, by whom he had four sons
before he married her in the year 1796. In order to
legitimatise the eldest of these sons and enable him to
claim the title, it was sought to prove that the Earl
had been secretly married to Mary Cole nine years
before the public ceremony took place. But the House
of Lords rejected the evidence adduced in proof of the
prior marriage, and decided that Thomas Moreton
Fitzhardinge, the fifth son, who was undoubtedly born
in wedlock, was the rightful heir to the earldom.
Moreton, however, refused to cast a slur upon his
mother's honour by assuming the title. Grantley came

448 Ifcfngs of tbe TCofc, IRffle, anfc (Bun

next to Moreton, and, as the latter had no issue, was
for seventy years heir-presumptive to the Earldom of
Berkeley. No such delicate scruples as actuated his
brother would have deterred Grantley from assuming
the title of Earl, but, though he reached the ripe age
of eighty-one, Moreton out-lived him, and he missed
after all the coveted honour which had for so long
seemed within his grasp.

For many years there was a deadly quarrel between
Grantley and his elder brothers. Colonel Berkeley
(afterwards Earl Fitzhardinge) of course maintained his
own legitimacy, which Grantley denied. The feud became
a political as well as a personal one. For twenty years
the younger brother fought the elder for the representa-
tion of West Gloucestershire in Parliament, and, despite
the wealth and influence opposed to him, Grantley
won every contested election against Lord Fitz-
hardinge's candidate. This open defiance naturally
widened the breach between the two sections of the
family, and kept constantly before the public a scandal
which one would have thought all members of the
house of Berkeley would have been anxious to see
decently buried.

This family feud played such an important part in
Grantley Berkeley's life that it has been necessary to
refer to it ; having done so as briefly as possible, I
gladly dismiss the unsavoury topic, and come back
to my legitimate subject.

The Honourable George Charles Grantley Fitz-
hardinge Berkeley received the first of this string of
names in honour of his godfather the Prince Regent,

tfoon. Grautles jf. 36crfceleg 449

of whom he tells many stories in his " Recollections,"
which are amusing, if not much to the credit ot
"The First Gentleman of Europe." Grantley's early
life was passed at Cranford, the family seat in
Middlesex, with occasional visits to Berkeley Castle.
He was brought up on sport — all his surroundings
were sporting ; and the tastes of his elder brothers
in this respect were catholic — nothing came amiss
to them ; prize-fighting, dog-fighting, ratting, and
all the lower phases of " The Fancy " were things
they revelled in, and they tried to make their younger
brother do the same, though, to do him justice, his
sympathies were always with the higher kinds of sport.

The immense preserves round Berkeley Castle swarmed
with game, which necessitated the employment of no
less than fifty-eight keepers and underkeepers. Cran-
ford, too, afforded splendid shooting.

" What quantities of game we then had ! " writes
Grantley, in his " Recollections." " When the Duke of
York shot with us, which he did one day, after Mr.
Greville had kept His Royal Highness waiting for an
hour and an half, he bagged in the same space of time
more than he had ever killed anywhere else. He had
three guns and two loaders, and yet more than once
I handed him my gun because the others were not
ready. I saw him kill three hares at one shot. My
brother Moreton was not a good courtier, but, wishing
to please our Royal guest, of course it was my duty
to be so. A pheasant was flying over the boughs
of an ash tree ; his Royal Highness shot at it, and
probably one shot struck the beak. The pheasant spun

VOL. II. 8

45° Ifcings of tbe 1Rofc, IRtfle, anfc 6un

round and caught hold of a twig, to which he clung. I
said, ' Sir, your Royal Highness will perhaps give him
another barrel, as he is hung in the boughs.' Bang,
bang, bang, bang, went his Royal Highness, with four
more shots at him, and missed him every time. ' More-
ton,' said I, 'just give that dead bird a barrel from
where you stand ; he won't fall out of the tree from this
direction.' Up went my brother's gun, who hated
killing the game, with such a look of contempt at me
over the thumb of his trigger hand ere he took his sight,
that I could hardly maintain my gravity. He killed the
pheasant, and as he did so muttered to me, ( You
might as well have left him for a breeder ! '

I remember assembling once in the vestibule at
Cranford ; Sir George and the late Sir Horace Seymour
were of the party, and the late Duke of St. Albans was
my guest. We were just ready when the Duke asked
me to wait for a moment till his servant came. The
servant arrived, bringing to his Grace a silver salver on
which lay a black silk handkerchief, very neatly and
narrowly folded. The Duke took it, turned to a glass,
and began to adjust it over the left eye.

'What on earth are you at?' I asked.

' I've heard,' said the Duke in a most solemn manner,
' that you have a great deal of game ; so I thought it
would save me much trouble to tie up one eye, as I
always shut one eye in taking aim.'

We burst out laughing ; and the servant with the
handkerchief was sent away."

At the age of sixteen Grantley was presented by the
Prince Regent with a commission in the Coldstream

1bon. (Brantlep jf. Berfeeles 45 i

Guards. Before joining the regiment, however, he went
up to Oxford and matriculated at Corpus Christi
College, but after a few months' residence left the
University for the Royal Military College, Sandhurst,
where he had a year's instruction. His career in the
army was brief. He exchanged from the Coldstreams
into the 82nd Foot, and retired altogether from the
service in 1821, a few months after he came of age.

On August 1 6th, 1824, Berkeley married Caroline
Martha, daughter of Paul Benfield, an India merchant
who was supposed to have amassed a fortune of con-
siderably over half a million, but lost it all in rash
speculations, and died in poverty in Paris fourteen years
before Grantley Berkeley's marriage. Benfield, however,
had settled £10,000 on his daughter before the collapse
of his fortunes. With his wife's dowry and his own
private means Grantley was able to settle down at
Harrold Hall, Hertfordshire, and devote himself to the
field-sports of which he was so enthusiastic a lover.

For two years he was Master of the Oakley Hounds,
and he also tried his hand at stag-hunting in the Harrow
country. But, though in hound-lore and knowledge of
the " arte of venerie " he had few superiors among his
contemporaries, Grantley Berkeley had not the social
qualities which go to the making of a popular M.F.H.
His methods savoured too much of the fortiter in re, too
little of the suaviter in modo. In the Harrow country
he was at constant war with the farmers — pitched battles
with sticks and fists were of frequent occurrence — and in
his " Reminiscences of a Huntsman " there are some
very graphic and amusing narratives of these encounters.

452 1fcin08 of tbe 1Rot>t IRifle, an& (Bun

In the year 1836 Grantley made his first appearance
in a new character, that of author. One of the most
amusing features of his egoism was his supreme belief
in his own literary gifts. In his " Recollections" he has
no hesitation in comparing himself with Byron, whose
early career, he fancied, bore a resemblance to his own,
and whose poems, he thought, expressed emotions similar
to those which had given birth to his own excursions
into verse ! But his first published venture was in prose,
a three-volume romance entitled " Berkeley Castle," and
it brought him a notoriety for which its literary merits
(if it can by any stretch of courtesy be said to possess
any) were certainly not responsible.

According to Berkeley's account, which no one, I
imagine, accepts as absolutely trustworthy, the ill-fated
poetess Letitia Elizabeth Landon, better known by her
initials, "L.E.L.," made him her confidant in a very
delicate matter, and implored him to rescue her from the
hands of an unscrupulous libertine into whose power she
had fallen. This person proved to be Dr. William
Maginn, a brilliant man of letters of whom Thackeray
has given a kindly portrait in Captain Shandon.
Maginn was without doubt a shiftless, dissipated creature,
but that he was the unspeakable blackguard that
Grantley Berkeley declares him to have been I do not
for a moment believe. From the base designs of this
" infamous villain " the chivalrous Grantley represents
himself as having rescued " L.E.L." But Maginn, " the
thwarted seducer," soon had his revenge. When
" Berkeley Castle : A Romance " appeared it was most
savagely slated in Eraser's Magazine, of which Maginn

Ube f>on. (Brantlep jf. 3Berfeele£ 453

was editor. Not content with abusing the book as
" stupid, ignorant, vulgar, and contemptible," " in
inception the most impertinent as in execution it is the
stupidest that it has ever been our misfortune to read,"
"quite decisive of the character of the author as a
gentleman," the reviewer went on to rake up the
Berkeley scandal.

Here is a specimen of the sort of thing which in those
days the editor of a periodical of the rank of Eraser's
Magazine thought fit to insert in his criticism of a novel :
" We are far from being desirous to insult, as the paltry
author of the book does, the character of a woman : but
when matters are recorded in solemn judgments there can
be no indelicacy in stating that Mr. Grantley Berkeley's
mother lived with Mr. Grantley Berkeley's father as his
mistress and that she had at least one child before she
could induce the very old and stupid lord to marry her."

That was a cruel and dastardly stab which admits of
no extenuation or excuse. But this was not all. The
book was dedicated to Lady Euston, for whom the
author expressed feelings of " admiration and affection."
The reviewer, fastening like a stoat on the word
" affection," bade the Earl of Euston look to his honour
and horsewhip the author for presuming to offer his
" libertine addresses " to the Countess !

That any man of spirit should tamely submit to such
an abominable outrage as this was not to be expected,
and those who have branded Grantley Berkeley's
subsequent conduct as cowardly, cannot, I think, have
taken the trouble to ascertain the nature and extent of
the provocation he had received.

454 Ikfngs of tbe TCot>, IRffle, anfc (Bun

Accompanied by his brother Maurice, he went straight
to the offices of James Fraser, the proprietor of the
magazine, and demanded the name of the writer of the
review. Fraser refused to give it, whereupon Berkeley
knocked him down and then thrashed him with his
racing- whip. It is true that Berkeley was a big, power-
ful man and a practised boxer, and that Fraser was much
his inferior in physique, though not by any means the
infirm old man it suited his friends to represent him as
being. But the provocation was great, and if it had been
Maginn who had been thrashed I should have said that
he richly deserved it.

Fraser's yells of pain brought a policeman on the
scene, and Berkeley was marched off to Marlborough
Street Police Station. The charge of assault, however,
was not proceeded with ; Fraser, being a canny Scot,
preferred a pecuniary solatium for his injuries, and
brought an action against his assailant, laying the
damages at £6,000. Grantley Berkeley promptly
countered with an action for libel, claiming a similar
amount of damages.

The assault case resulted in the jury awarding Fraser
£100, the amount at which he had fixed his medical
expenses. The libel case ended in a compromise.
Berkeley agreed to take a verdict for forty shillings on
condition that Fraser did not appeal for a new trial in
the other action. On the whole, then, the publisher's
victory was a Pyrrhic one.

But there was still Maginn to be dealt with, and he,
dreading the horsewhipping he deserved, cleverly avoided
it by expressing his readiness to give Mr. Grantley

Ube Hxm. (Brantles ff* Berkeley 455

Berkeley the satisfaction due from one gentleman to
another. A duel was the result. According to the
account Berkeley gives in his " Recollections," which
must be taken with a liberal grain of salt, it was a most
ridiculous affair. Maginn's seconds had forgotten to
bring cither powder or ball, the pistols they produced
were out of order, and Grantley had to lend one of his
own pistols to his opponent. At the first exchange of
shots Maginn nearly blew his own toe off, for he pulled
the trigger as he was raising his weapon, and the bullet
went into the ground within an inch of his foot. Two
more shots were exchanged, and then Maginn was led
off the field apparently wounded, though, as a matter of
fact, I believe he was untouched. And there the incident
in gloriously ended — ingloriously for both, I think, fo^
despite the ridicule he throws upon the affair, Grantley
Berkeley does not appear to me to have cut a much
more creditable figure than his adversary.

I have dwelt at some length on this episode in
Grantley Berkeley's life because I consider that he has
not been fairly treated in the matter by those who have
told the story. Literary men have had a natural bias in
favour of the brilliant Irish journalist, and they have not
done justice to Grantley Berkeley, who was goaded into
assaulting a man weaker than himself by as cruel,
cowardly, and blackguardly a libel as ever disgraced the
pages of any periodical.

When the Earl of Eglinton first conceived the idea
of that historic Tournament with which his name will
always be associated, Grantley Berkeley was one of those
asked to figure as knights in "the joyous passage of arms."

456 Ifctngs of tbe 1Rot>, IRifle, anfc (Bun

In his search for fitting armour he tells us that he could
not find a breastplate large enough for him, and he adds :
" I am quite sure that it would have taken three of the
largest ever known beaten into one to have covered the
ample chest of Lord Downshire." From this fact he
draws the deduction that the men of to-day are of far
finer physique than those of the days of chivalry. I do
not agree with him in that deduction. I think that the
constant wearing of armour and the hard physical exertion
which their mode of life incessantly entailed upon them
made our ancestors lean and fine-drawn. They carried
no superfluous flesh, but were hard and wiry, with none
of the brawn of such men as the Marquis of Downshire ;
hence their girth of chest was smaller, though their height
and strength were doubtless as great.

It was Berkeley's fancy to go to the Tournament
incognito — as the Unknown Knight — and not reveal
himself until he had won the meed of victory. But his
proposals that the horses and armour of those who fell
should be the spoil of the victor, and that the victorious
knight should also have the right to name the Queen of
Beauty, were scouted by the promoters of the Tourna-
ment. So, finding that the whole thing was to be a mere
farce, Grantley would have no more to do with it.

Up to the year 1852, when he lost his seat for West
Gloucestershire, Berkeley divided his time between
politics and sport. The only noteworthy incident in his
Parliamentary career was his successful motion for
admitting ladies to the gallery of the House of Commons.
For this gallant act he was cheered all along Rotten Row
on the day after the speech by which he secured the con-

flxm, Orantlcs Jf. 3Berfeele£ 457

cession, and was subsequently presented with a handsome
piece of plate by a number ,of grateful and admiring
members of the sex whose cause he had championed.

After losing his seat, as I have recorded, he took no
further part in politics, but devoted himself entirely to
sport. For many years he lived at Beacon Lodge, on
the skirts of the New Forest. Of his life and sur-
roundings there he has given the following picturesque
and pleasing glimpse in the Preface to his " Reminis-
cences of a Huntsman ":

" While writing this work, I am sitting in my study at
Beacon Lodge, the wide and open window admitting
the southerly wind fresh from the blue waves of Christ-
church Bay. There are but seventy yards of short turf
and lawn between me and the edge of the cliff. The
farthest pet from me is my grey forest-pony, Dingle,
calmly cropping the short greensward, while round her
legs are frisking a quantity of rabbits. Here and there
some beautiful little bantams, with their chickens, are in
search of insects ; the group varied by several hybrids
bred from the bantam and pheasant. Nearer to the
house are rabbits stretched in the sun, and basking in
company with Brenda, the pet of the drawing-room, a
greyhound who won the Puppy stakes of her year at
the Greenway, in Gloucestershire. A New Forest fawn,
now approximating to a doe, and, locally almost the
last of her race, bounds in play here and there, where
used to frisk my poor Gazelle ; and a stout game-cock
seems to preside over all, one or two pert little bantam-
cocks absolutely availing themselves of the shadow of
his tall, bluff breast as a cool place to crow from.

of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, ant> (Bun

When they crow the only effect it has on the warrior
is, to make him turn his head a little on one side, to
look out at the corner of his eye, as if he would say with
the Frenchman, ' Est-il pour de rire^ oupour de bon ? ' A
pheasant, a partridge, or a hare occasionally joins the
various groups, and Baron, the deer-dog, will sometimes
walk through them all, without causing the slightest
terror or commotion, and, thumped at by the hinder-leg
of some of the rabbits, in the midst of them claim a
quiet corner in the sun. By my side, and watching my
pen as it moves, sit two goldfinches, trying to sing down
any slight scratching it may make on the paper ; and
at my foot a merry starling, who at times in a season
is slightly indisposed, but as invariably cured by the
administration of a spider. All these creatures know
me ; and to make amends for the war and chase that
I carry into other localities I try to make my lawn and
premises a scene of amity and peace.

There is a general move among the living things from
Dingle down to the rabbits. The noise of the drawing-
room window opening from the ground is heard, and
a run is made by the tamer creatures to their mistress
for some food ; the wilder ones sit up and listen, and
some draw near to pick up such part of the fare as may
be carried by others to a little distance. To me all this
is very beautiful ; and I feel, and am happy in the idea,
that when the muscle and lithe o' limb have left me,
and age comes on, I can sit among Heaven's creatures
in passive admiration and pursue my favourite study,
which never palls — the study of animate and inanimate

TTbc 1foon. Orantleg if. Berfedes 459

Grantlcy Berkeley always loved to make pets of
animals, some of them strange enough — a cormorant,
for example, which used to eat from his hand and sit
on his shoulder, and a stoat, which nestled in the
pockets of his shooting -coat. But none of his stories
of his own pets is so funny as this one of a raven
which belonged to a neighbour :

" The bird was tame and pinioned, and had strayed
from his owner's house into the orchard of the village
curate. A lot of rooks having visited the parson's
cherries, the reverend gentleman kept his gun in readi-
ness, and seeing the raven under his trees, he stalked
him by the aid of a hedge. Bang went the fruit-
avenging gun, and the raven having felt a shot or two
rattle on his feathers, began to hop and flap along the
ground as fast as he could. Up ran the parson, think-
ing to secure the offender, to be impaled as a future
scarecrow, when just as he was about to grasp the raven,
the bird opened his mouth to bite, and cried, ' Damn
your blood ! ' So startled was the divine, that he threw
down his gun, and ran away."

Amongst Berkeley's animal favourites dogs took the
first place. One of the most notable of them was
Smoker, his famous deerhound and retriever — " the only
dog I ever saw," says his master, "who was singly a
match for any stag." Once Smoker dashed at a stag at
bay, and though pinned through the back by the deer's
horn, which only missed his spine by a hair's breadth,
the gallant dog shook himself free, charged the stag
again, and would probably have been impaled had not
the huntsman come in the nick of time and rescued him.

460 Ifcfngs of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc (Bun

" Smoker," Berkeley further tells us, « was the hand-
somest as well as one of the largest dogs I ever saw,
being able, when I was six feet high, with ease to put
his fore paws on my shoulders. He was white, with
a coat like short silk, a spot on his back, about the size
of a dessert plate, and one on his head of a deep brindle
or mahogany colour. Anecdotes of the sporting qualities
and sagacity of this splendid dog have already been
told in former works, but I here give an incident in
his early life which has been recently narrated to me
by my good friend Mr. R. Bright, of Baker Street,
Orsett, in Essex.

At this time Smoker was a puppy only ten months
old, and then the property of Mr. Bailey, of Britwell
near Burnham in Middlesex, from whom I purchased
him. Mr. Bailey had also in his possession a tame
male red deer, or stag, which I believe he originally
received as a fawn from the Royal Park at Windsor.

Tame stags, and even tame bucks, are never safe
when they grow to maturity, even if their antlers
are kept sawn off, as they are still able to use their
heads, and particularly their fore as well as their hind
feet in assaults on the human race. On this occasion
Mr. Bright was walking out, accompanied by the
beautiful puppy, and happened to come to the spot
where the stag was dangerously running at Lady
Young, at that time living in the vicinity.

At my friend's bidding, Smoker, mere puppy though
he was,— instantly seized the stag by the flank, and
while he kept his larger and more powerful antagonist
at bay, Mr. Bright assisted Lady Young to escape from

ZTbe fcon. Orantlcg jf. Ecrfceles 461

the scene of danger. Ever after this event the stag
went by the name of 'Smoker's Deer.'"

As a retriever Smoker was extraordinarily clean.
His nose was remarkably fine, and the way in which
he used to mark when a bird fell was wonderful. In
the house, too, his sagacity was phenomenal. If his
master went out unknown to him he would not rest
until, accompanied by Mrs. Berkeley, he had looked
into every room of the house, scratching at all the
doors until they were opened for him, and when he
had satisfied himself that his master was not to be
found he would return quietly to the drawing-room and
sit down beside his mistress. Sometimes if he suddenly
missed Mr. Berkeley he would go into the hall, examine
all the hats, and if he found his master's would lie
contentedly down and watch ; if he did not find it
there he insisted on searching the house as I have
described.

He was an excellent water-dog, but at times, if
the river were slightly frozen and the ice annoyed
him in crossing to fetch any bird which had fallen on
the other side, he would on his return go round by
the bridge, and on strange ground would run to any
object which looked like a bridge, and though in
doing this he had sometimes to jump over fences,
yet he always brought the bird, snipe or duck, or
whatever it might be, as clean as when it was killed.
Smoker was buried in the garden at Harrold, and
his master wrote a long epitaph on him in verse.

It was whilst Grantley Berkeley was living at Beacon
Lodge that he was visited by a noted French sports-

462 ikings of tbe 1Rofct IRifle, anfc 6un

man the Vicomte d'Anchold. The Vicomte had read
accounts of Berkeley's famous hound Druid and his
single-handed feats against the wild deer of the New
Forest ; and, being anxious to see how the chase was
pursued in England, came all the way from his chateau
on the Nievre, two hundred miles south of Paris, to
gratify his curiosity. He was Berkeley's guest for
some time at Beacon Lodge — rode, hunted, and fished
with his host, and had such a good time that he made
Grantley promise to visit him at his chateau and taste
the enjoyments of French sport.

In his entertaining book "A Month in the Forests
of France," published in 1851, Berkeley has chronicled
his experiences of that visit. They were not exhil-
arating. His host, indeed, was a good sportsman,
according to his lights, but his notions of what con-
stituted sport were such as to excite the supreme
contempt of an English sportsman. " Their hunting
establishments," writes Berkeley, " are the greatest farce
I ever saw. The wolf, wild-boar, roe-deer, and fox are
the beasts of chase, and they had not a pack of hounds
able to catch any of them unless assisted by the gun."
This is not surprising when we read that the hounds
in a French kennel were rotting of mange, cooped up
without exercise from March to August, allowed no
meat food, and then, without even a day's preliminary
preparation, taken out to hunt cub-wolves in the blazing
heat. The huntsman was selected solely for his musical
abilities — on the huge French horn which he carried he
was expected to play a variety of pieces of music, for
every animal of the chase had a separate air assigned

ZTbc toon. (Brautlep jf. iJBerfeeles 463

to it, and his accomplishments were far more suited
to the opera than the kennel.

Game of all kinds he found extraordinarily scarce — a
fact to be accounted for by the lack of preservation.
Everyone who possessed a gun scoured the country
on Sundays and killed whatever came in his way. And
there was an equal dearth of sport in the streams for
a similar reason.

For the wild boar, as an animal of chase, Berkeley
expresses great respect. The charge of an old boar
he describes as terrific, and he gives a graphic picture
of an old tusked " solitaire " at bay — seated, as the
French say, " in his arm-chair," squatting on his hams,
with a tree to cover his rear, with fourteen out of
eighteen hounds that had attacked him lying dead or
crippled around him. A five months' old boar, too,
after being severely wounded by a bullet, kept up a
running fight for two hours against eight or nine hounds,
and would have escaped had not a second shot laid him
low. This does not speak well for the prowess of the
hounds ; but then, what could you expect of hounds that
chased a marten-cat for two hours and then tailed off
from their quarry dead beat ?

Altogether it was very poor sport indeed that Grantley
Berkeley had in the forests of France with his host the
Vicomte d'Anchold. In energy, perseverance, courage,
and love of sport he found the French sportsmen second
to none. They could shoot well and ride well, but of
wood-craft and hunting, of the treatment of hounds and
sporting dogs, they knew absolutely nothing. It is
interesting to note that Grantley Berkeley's experiences

464 Ikfngs of tbe 1Rot>, 1Rfflet anb Gun

of sport in France tally closely with those of Colonel
Thornton.

But unquestionably the most notable event in
Grantley Berkeley's career as a sportsman was his
sporting tour in America. In the year 1859 he was
commissioned by the proprietor of The Field to take
a trip to the States, try his hand at shooting the bison
on its native prairie, and narrate his adventures for the
benefit of readers of that journal.

Shortly before starting Berkeley published the
following bombastic manifesto of his intentions :

''BEACON LODGE, CHRISTCHURCH,

July 30, 1859.

SIR, — Permit me through the medium of your paper
to address a few words to my brother sportsmen in the
United States.

An opportunity which I have often longed for has
been afforded me of paying a visit to New York, starting
from Liverpool for the express purpose of fraternising
with the disciples of St. Hubert, shaking hands with my
Transatlantic brethren, and, with the advice of my
brother sportsmen, proceeding through a part of the
cultivated country to the magnificent prairies, gathering
by the way all information, scientific, agricultural, and
ornithological, that it is possible for me to collect. My
stay in the United States must of necessity be limited,
but, under the blessing of Heaven [!], I hope, ere my
return to spend my Christmas in England, to have
achieved and learnt enough to enable me to tell my
countrymen a tale, and to point out to them the route

ZTbe 1bon. (Brantlep jf. !JBerfteles 465

and the outlay required for others, in future times, to
follow my example. My narrative, I need hardly add,
will appear in the columns of the London FIELD.

I shall bring with me some of my hounds and dogs
the faithful companions of my leisure hours, and throw
myself on that kindness which, from my experience
of the American character in other climes, I am con-
vinced was never by a stranger sought in vain. I
expect to arrive at New York on or about the 3rd of
September.

Your obedient humble servant,

GRANTLEY F. BERKELEY."

Berkeley sailed from Liverpool on August 2Oth,
and his arrival in New York was made the subject of
the following comments in a leading American journal :

" A BRITISH LION AMONG us. — A few days since
an Englishman who is called Sir Grantley Barkley, and
said to be a great lover of field sports, arrived in this
city, accompanied by one servant and three or four dogs.
Now, from the simple fact that this gentleman sports
a title of nobility, and is also a great sportsman, we hope
none will be silly enough to go crazy over him. But if
he is a true type of the Englishman, and loves the
human race in whatever country he may be in, we hope
due honours will be tendered him. Too many of the
distinguished lords and baronets, as well as the literary
men of England, have come to this country, and put on
such ridiculous airs that sensible people have become
disgusted with them. A true Englishman will not wish
to make a display of his wealth or nobility, but a

VOL. II. 9

466 ikinas of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc 6un

cockney, a conceited cox-comb, who has more money
than brains, will laugh at what he calls the boorish
manners of the Americans, and hint that nothing can be
done right except in England. Sir Grantley Berkley
will undoubtedly profit by the ungentlemanly demeanour
of some of his countrymen when in this country, and
conduct himself as only a gentleman should. To-day
this gentleman and his dogs start for St. Joseph ; from
that place they will go out into the western wilds on a
buffalo hunt, and return to England by Christmas. We
wish both Sir G. Berkley and his dogs unbounded
success."

So Grantley Berkeley set forth on his journey, if not
" under the blessing of Heaven," at any rate under that
of The New York Herald.

The American journalist was not so familiar with the
titles of our aristocracy then as he is now, and con-
sequently he sometimes makes Berkeley a baronet and
sometimes a lord. The simple " Honourable " conveyed
to the American mind no idea of aristocratic rank,
because it was the common prefix to the name of every
Senator, and Berkeley gives an amusing instance in
which an hotel-keeper apologised for having treated him
brusquely on his first arrival under the impression that
he was merely an " honourable " American Senator and
not an "honourable British Lord."

The dogs which Berkeley brought over with him were
the subject of much ridicule at first. It was imagined
that he intended to hunt the buffalo with them. Yet
of the six he took out with him two were retrievers,
one a setter, one a bloodhound, and one a deer-lurcher.

TTbc fbon. (Brantlcs Jf. JSerfeelep 467

A queer " pack " for buffalo-hunting ! Nevertheless, it
will be gathered from the following paragraph that this
was the purpose for which they were supposed to be
intended :

"THE ENGLISH HUNTER.— The people of the Far
West are laughing at the idea of the Hon. Grantley
Berkeley, the famous British sportsman, of hunting
buffalo with hounds. The St. Joseph Daily West
says : — ' If the hounds can only be persuaded to run the
buffalo, the buffalo will certainly run from the hounds,
and in a country where the vast herds stretch out as far
as the eye can reach, and the game is never out of sight,
except at night, there would be no end, it seems, to his
sport. But running over the prairies from which the
grass has been burned, the feet of his dogs would be
worn out in a day, and they would become a burden and
a drawback. If they were kept for elk and antelope
alone, the chances are that they would be lost in the
first chase, or in case they could be called off, they would
become victims to Indian arrows. Surely if a dog of
any description could conduce to Mr. Berkeley's sport,
or aid him in the capture of game, an ordinary cur would
be best. Of these we have an abundance, and, asking
the gentleman's pardon for the impertinence of making
the suggestion, he had better leave his dogs with us, and
take ours with him.' — [Mr. Berkeley's reply to these
critics is ' Wait a bit, and we shall see.' — ED.] "

Those sportsmen who recognised the real object of
Berkeley's dogs told him : " It's no use taking English
dogs : the places are so thick with thorns and bushes,
heavy grass and jungle, that an English dog could

468 Ifctncis of tbe 1Rofc, IRtfle, anfc Gun

never go a yard." Among the prairie-grouse, how-
ever, Berkeley found his setter very useful, whilst his
retrievers were invaluable in recovering wild-fowl on
the lakes. But this kind of shooting was reckoned mere
pastime — the serious business of the tour was the
slaughter of bison. American sportsmen followed the
movements of the English hunter with great interest,
and the Press kept the public posted in his progress.
Here, for example, is a paragraph from the New York
Spirit of the Times recording Mr. Berkeley's movements
in the Far West :

" HON. GRANTLEY F. BERKELEY.— From the Evening
Post we learn that this gentleman has lately been in
Kansas City busily engaged making peparations for his
proposed hunt for buffalo, elk, and antelope upon our
great western plains. On the 23rd September he had his
arrangements nearly perfected, and he was about going
to camp. He has secured the services of Mr. John
Cantrell, who will go out in the capacity of general
superintendent of the expedition. Nine men are em-
ployed, and his travelling outfit consists of four horses and
one pony, four saddle animals, six mules, one provision
waggon, a private carriage, and a waggon for his five
dogs. The party will take the Santa Fe road to
Walnut Creek, near the ranch of Mr. George Peacock,
where they will bear away to the plains, hunting as far
north as the Platte, and then home by the Kaw valley.
The hunt will last probably about two months. They
are well supplied with firearms of both English and
American make. We congratulate Mr. Berkeley (who
represents the London Field in this great expedition),

ftbe 1bon. (Brantleg Jf. JBcrftele^ 469

that he has started right ; we predict that he will have
one of the most brilliant hunting expeditions ever
witnessed in this country."

I will let Berkeley describe in his own words his first
brush with the bison. After telling how he and his
friend Lieutenant Bayard of the American Army came
up with a herd, he thus proceeds :

" Bayard and myself (I confess to have been in a
charmed delight) then set off towards them gently and
without noise, availing ourselves of any inequality in the
ground there might be to cover our approach, and in
order to give the bisons as little the start of us as
possible ; but when we came to within about half a mile
of them, off they set in that peculiar up-and-down canter
in which they invariably commence their retreat. . . . The
instant we set off at a gallop in our run to the game,
Taymouth [his horse] was all on fire to keep ahead, and
when he saw the retreating mass of beasts flying from
him, ignorant of what they were, it increased his anxious
desire to overtake them. Having heard that horses
were terrified at even the smell as well as the sight of
bisons, I drew Taymouth into the wake of the retreating
animals, in order to encourage his approach, and to let
him know they were in retreat. He soon overtook
them ; but when he came up to within about fifty yards
of the rearmost bull, while he slackened his pace a little,
he pricked his ears and made such a stare that I knew,
as well as felt, he was very much scared, and inclined
to go to the right-about. A slight touch of the spur,
however, and that clasp of the knees which horses so
well understand, put all direct refusal out of his head,

470 Ifcfhss of the 1Rofc, 1Rfflet an& (Bun

and we came up at three parts speed alongside the bulls,
though he swerved from them infinitely further than I
desired. But for the rein and heel he would have gone
clean away. . . . Oh ! what an exciting wild sight it was,
thus close up with them, to see these thirty black rusty
monsters, flying two or three abreast, or else close in each
other's wake — the last old bull (generally the king of
the herd) leering out from side to side beneath either
horn, as much as to say to the pursuer, ' I don't like you,
and I am retreating ; but just you get into my way, that's
all, and then see what I'll do.' ... As Bayard seemed
to be holding back for me, I called out to him to go at
the bull, when Bayard, on his steady, nice horse, ran
alongside, and with his heavy revolver, slightly struck
the bull, but not in a spot to stop him. The bull then
became mischievous, and prone to charge anything that
came in his way — of this he made both Bayard and
myself well aware — and as bisons often do, when stricken
or in a fighting humour, he took no more notice of the
direction of his herd, but went away sulkily by himself. .
I shot at him without effect. . . .

We now came to a creek that intersected the plains,
down the steep bank of which the buffalo went in the
oddest and most reckless way I ever saw, getting a
complete somersault into the water at the bottom.
Bayard and myself then halted on the brink of the creek,
and waited for a steadier shot at the bull as he climbed
the other side. Bayard fired with his revolver, at a
long distance for that weapon, and I got my second shot,
and saw that it took effect in a slanting direction on the
back of the bison. We then rode over the creek, and

ZTbe 1bon. (Brantles jf. ffierfeelCE 471

my third shot, at some distance, broke the shoulder of
the huge beast, proving the strength of the shooting of
Prince's carbine, and brought him at once to bay. We
drew up at a respectful distance, as victory was sure ;
the monster lame as he was being ever ready to charge,
when, drawing a little closer, Taymouth being quieted
by the length of the chase and his own exertions, I
opened my left side for the facility of a shot, and hit the
buffalo close behind and a little above the elbow, when
he swayed from side to side for a moment, and then fell
dead."

As hunting the bison is an extinct sport, for the very
good reason that the bison itself has been practically
exterminated, I shall make no apology for giving one
more extract illustrative of Grantley Berkeley's exploits
among the " buffalo." In this case he was stalking the
game on foot :

" The next time we paused for rest and a view of the
game, we found ourselves close upon the bull, certainly
within forty yards of the great and gently moving mass
of hair, which, when the head was lowered, looked in
shape like a gigantic beehive. Still and still the bull
came stem on, as a sailor would say, and still he offered
to our rifles nothing but, as it were, woolsacks of hair,
or the top of his shoulders and his hump. Bayard
insisted that it would be useless to shoot at his forehead,
for that the hair there was in such a matted and a tangled
mass as to be ball-proof against any rifle that ever was
made. We were thus obliged to lie flat on our faces,
and flat as we could lie, from our chins we now saw the
top of the hump, looming more largely into view as the

Ifcfngs of tbe 1Rot> IRffle, anfc Oun

beast came on upon us. * He'll tread on us soon/ I
whispered to Bayard, ' and we shall have to fire up his
nose ! ' and when I looked at the bull again, and then
at myself and Bayard, I could not help thinking what
mere frogs we were in the grass, compared to our giant
foe. And supposing he took it into his head at once to
charge, what would then become of us ? I had scarcely
made this last observation when his companion bison,
some hundred yards' distance, who had observed the
herd to which they belonged moving away, walked off,
and our game lifted his head not twenty yards from us,
to look at him. ' He's going to turn,' whispered Bayard ;
and accordingly the bison did turn with an evident
intention of walking after his companion, when at that
moment, and with steady aim, our rifles were fired, and
then together we fell flat upon our faces. We had not
the least doubt but that we had wounded him mortally —
my aim as well as my ear assured me of that fact — when
having given a moment's space in order that if the bull
had looked towards the position of the noise he might
have satisfied himself that no enemy was there to be
seen, we both raised our foreheads sufficiently to observe
that the hump was moving slowly away to our right, and
then gradually it disappeared in a fashion to indicate
lying down rather than a direct fall. The monster was
still not much above forty yards from us, and very
probably, if not dead, as furiously savage as a mortally
stricken beast of the size and age could be.

And now became manifest the great superiority, in
situations such as this, of the breech-loader over the
muzzle-loader. I dared not for the life of me, kneel up

TTbe t>cm. (Brantlep jf. Berfeeles 473

to load my John Manton rifle, or I should have been
confessed to the savage and dying foe. Had I done so
the bull must have heard and seen me, and had he
charged me, we should have been dependant on three
shots at his said to be impenetrable head. Bayard,
lying flat on the ground, charged Pape's breech-loading
rifle in a moment, and without the necessity of drawing
the slightest attention from the wounded beast, and I
had still Prince's breech-loading carbine. As soon as he
had reloaded we again crawled towards our foe, when on
looking through the high grass, we saw him lying down,
and looming as wildly savage as those very savage- looking
animals can look — his head and body obliquely away
from our position. It was no use to shoot at him thus
so we resolved to take to the short grass, risk being seen,
and open out his broadside, determining that if he
detected us, and rose to charge, our fire should be at his
heart while in the act of turning, and Bayard's last
barrel retained in the event of coming to close
quarters. We crawled till we had opened his side, and
he never either stirred or saw us ; so directing our balls
quite low as he lay, we fired together, when the monster
sprang to his feet, and stared full upon the spot where
we lay. There was then a most anxious but beautiful
pause, when, on seeing that the bull had not the least
idea of our close proximity, but that he began staring
over us, and towards the ground on the other side of the
ravine, I whispered to Bayard to back into the long
grass, or he might walk on till he trod on us, and that
when there we could reload. This we did, till we began
to find the descending ground, and then we turned and

474 1fcfn00 of tbe 1Ro^ IRffle, an& (Bun

slid uncommonly fast on our waistcoats until we were
safe under cover. When there, we lay for a few moments,
convulsed with laughter at our own haste to get back
out of sight, and then re-charged our rifles. The moment
we had loaded, we crawled back to the short grass, and
took a look at the position of our foe. The least rise of
our heads ought to have afforded us a sight of him had
he remained on his legs ; but no, so higher and higher
went our brows, till at last we saw the monster extended
on the plain upon his side with his head towards us,
and, on attaining to our feet, we found that he was
dead."

Berkeley writes of this feat with gusto, as if he were
proud of it, as no doubt he was. And yet, when
you compare it with the way in which William Cotton
Oswell and Sir Samuel Baker killed their big game,
how paltry it seems!

The net result of Berkeley's sporting tour is thus
summed up by Wilkes's New York Spirit of the Times :

" HON. GRANTLEY F. BERKELEY. — This gentleman
will probably be in New York a few days. He met
with success, and enjoyed himself finely. He set out
with his company from Westport, Missouri, on the
25th Sept. ; they started out on the Santa Fe" route
until they heard of the Indian depredations, when they
changed their course to the northward. They went to
Fort Riley, where they were joined by two officers of
the U.S. army, and then made for Smoky Hill Fork,
250 miles west of the Missouri. Here they met with
buffalo in abundance. During the first day the
Englishman met with poor success, owing to an attack

ZTbe Don. (Brantles jf. 3Berfeeles 475

of prairie fever, but recovering he soon showed himself
a good hunter. They killed 29 buffalo, the skins and
tongues of which he preserves as trophies, and a few
choice steaks were packed for his London friends.
Those who were with him say that in killing small game
he surpassed every one else, and that in energy and
endurance he equalled the hardiest Western hunters.
He was on the plains about a month. Mr. Berkeley
delivered a lecture at St. Joseph, on the 25th ult,
before a large and delighted audience. It is to be
hoped that he will repeat his discourse in New York
before leaving our shores."

The invitation to lecture reads like a bit from Martin
Chuzzlewit's experiences, and is worth quoting :

"Sr. JOSEPH, MISSOURI, U.S.A., October 31, 1859.
HONOURABLE SIR, — Appreciating your high posi-
tion and ability to form a correct and intelligent opinion
of the people, manners, and things that pass under your
observation, we would be pleased if you would favour
us with an opportunity of hearing the impressions which
our country has made upon your mind. If, therefore,
your time and inclination will permit, we would be
happy if you would appoint an hour at which it will
be convenient to meet us, that our fellow-citizens may
hear your remarks.

[Signed} M. JEFF THOMPSON (Mayor), JAS. CRAIG,
NILLARD P. HALL, F. W. SMITH, JOHN
CARBURY, GEORGE VANDEN, B. M. HUGHES."

That he was a success as a lecturer I gather from the
following paragraph in the St. Joseph Daily Gazette :

476 Ifctn^s of tfoe 1Rofc, IRtfle, ant) (Bun

"HON. GRANTLEY BERKELEY. — This distinguished
stranger in compliance with a request of the St. Joseph
Institute, lectured in the Methodist Episcopal Church,
Tuesday evening last, to a large and intelligent
audience. He chose for his subject the impressions
made upon him by his visit to our country, and ex-
pressed himself more than satisfied with all that he saw,
and his determination to do us justice in a narrative to
be published on his return to England. He spoke of the
misrepresentations of his countrymen who had written
books on America when they had remained here but a
short time, and had seen so little of our people and
institutions as to be incompetent to know the one or
judge of the other ; and his purpose would be to correct
their errors, and set us right with his people and the
world. He was easy in manner, happy in style, and
kept his audience in a roar of laughter. He purposes
to speak at St. Louis and New York, and we advise all
to enjoy the entertainment of listening to his discourse.
We wish Sir Grantley success and happiness wherever
he may be, or in whatever enterprise he may engage."

But there appears to have been a fly in the ointment
which spoiled the flavour of the pot of American eulogy.
And Berkeley had not been a week in England before
the following letter appeared in print :

" SIR, — I find that several of the English papers have
been copying some ridiculous and false reports from a
portion of the United States press, as to my ' failure at
large game.' They could not have obtained the news
from a reliable source, as there were only two gentlemen

ZTbe Don. Grantleg jf. Berkeley 477

with me when I hunted buffalo, and I am certain that
neither of them attributed failure to me in any way.
They were Major Martin and Lieut. Bayard of the
U.S. army, in whose hands I should be as happy to
trust my character as I should to any officer in the
English army. In America therefore, with the officers
of that service, my character is perfectly safe. I have
only to see that, in a sporting light, it is not unfairly
assailed here. I gave the death shot to the first buffalo
I ever saw, on my excellent chestnut horse ; and on the
same horse (christened Taymouth) I drove from a herd
and fairly rode down — unwounded — an immense buffalo
bull, and then when he refused to fly any farther, but
turned to fight, I killed him, my sole weapon the
breech loading carbine, made by Mr. Prince of Bond
Street.

I am not anxious to laud my own success, but if I
am put to do so by these false reports, why the truth
shall be told.

Your very obedt. servant,

GRANTLEY F. BERKELEY.

LIVERPOOL. Dec. 4, 1859."

The narrative of his adventures in the Far West
appeared in The Field, and roused so much interest
that the circulation of that journal was enormously
increased. In fact, there is a tradition in the journalistic
world that The Field dates its establishment as a great
newspaper property from the appearance of Grantley
Berkeley's articles. Berkeley himself, I believe, used to
boast that he had made the fortune of its proprietor.

478 1fc(n05 of tbe 1Rofc, "Rifle, an& (Bun

From that time forward Berkeley lived a retired life,
devoted to sport and the study of Nature, with occa-
sional excursions into authorship. His " Recollections "
appeared in the late sixties, and created some stir.
They are full of anecdote, gossip, and scandal, and
therefore eminently entertaining to the bulk of society
readers. His last work was " Fact against Fiction,"
a dreary book in which he airs his peculiar views
ad nauseam.

He was troubled with no mock modesty, and those
who wish to know what his personal appearance was
may gather all they want from the following portrait
drawn by himself:

" And now, under no fear of being deemed egotistic,
as some readers may wish to know the sort of ap-
pearance the author still wears, and his inclination
and capabilities, I will describe myself. My height
in my shoes, is six feet two ; without my shoes, in the
measurement of the Coldstream Guards, it was six feet
one and a quarter. For seven-and-twenty years I have
never varied in weight more than eight or nine pounds ;
my average weight being thirteen stone : and, so to
speak, even now as age advances, I have not an ounce
of superfluous flesh about me. Age does advance,
though : I see it in the " crows-feet " on my face ; it is
evident by the snows that are falling among my hair ;
and, most of all, I feel it in not being able to quit the
ground as I used to do, when desirous of jumping over
an obstacle. Otherwise I am as much pleased with
hunting a mouse or rat, fishing for a gudgeon or perch,
when no other pastime is to be had, as I used to be

tlbe 1bon. (5rantle£ Jf. JBerftcle^ 479

when a boy ; and this fondness for the most trivial sport
I treasure, for it would be melancholy to find that, one
by one, the humours of youth were departing. Enough
alas ! will depart, whether we like it or not, that once
rendered life agreeable : I therefore bid the ageing and
aged, as the might of their limbs leaves them, to cling,
if they can, to the calm contemplation of nature ; to the
singing bird, the flower, and the fossil. To see an old
beau, with a bald head bobbing about like an apple on
the sea, or a dreadful wig, dancing, anxious to leave the
ball before daylight and the growth of the white stubble
on his chin contrasts with the deadly hue of his stained
and blue-tinted whiskers — that ' ruling passion strong in
death/ — used to be to me, as a young man, so dis-
gusting, that, long before I had a white hair in my
head, I resolved such a sin should never be laid at my
door."

To my thinking Grantley Berkeley never showed to
more advantage than in the decline of his life. There
had come to him, as there comes to all true sportsmen,
a time when the lust for slaughter died out, and was
succeeded by a love for all the wild things that he had
hunted and shot. To watch their ways, to study their
habits, to win their confidence became with him a far
greater pleasure than the exercise of his skill in slaying
them. Down there in the seclusion of his Dorsetshire
home at Alderney Manor, among his books and pictures
and dogs and birds he made for himself a little sports-
man's paradise. He gave sanctuary to pheasants,
partridges, and wild-fowl innumerable till they grew as
tame as pigeons. He acclimatised some rare species of

480 ifcfnas of tbe 1Rofc, TCffle, an& 6un

birds — the eider, the tufted duck, the wood-duck, the
Bahama drake, the Marnharnham goose (the smallest
of its kind in the world), the Brazil and Japanese
pheasants, and the American quail. And a visit to
Alderney Manor was a delight both to the naturalist
and the sportsman. Mortimer Collins paid such a visit
in the November of 1869, and has given the following
pleasant picture of the veteran sportsman in his
sanctuary :

" I have just been staying where, upon a lawn bitten
close by wild rabbits, shielded from a high road only by
laurel, and rhododendron, and holly, about a hundred
pheasants come twice daily to feed, and cluster round
their master as he scatters the grain. Near that lawn
no gun is ever fired, though I suspect that even while

I write the breech-loaders are busy in adjacent coverts.
The birds know they are safe on that island of emerald,
and do not start, though the shots are quick and fast in
the vicinage. I saw twenty partridges come to be fed at
three o'clock with a punctuality not to be surpassed by
the wearer of a Dent chronometer. " Magister artis . . .
venter" says Persius — the art of accurate time keeping
is ventric. As to the wild fowl, among them many
rare and shy species, their knowledge of their master,
their tame confidence, was most admirable. Theirs was
a pond sacred from shot, but all down the valley I
saw a long line of decoys for their brethren. The
confidence of these wild creatures in their human friend
was a sight well worth seeing."

So tame were the wild-fowl which resorted to the

II sanctuary pond " that Grantley Berkeley taught them,

Ubc t>on. (Brautles jf. iJBerheles 4»i

whenever he called on them to do so, to give "three
cheers for the Prussians." This was at the time of the
Franco-German war. "They never failed," he says,
" to reply, and the shrill whistle of the Pernambuco
gander used to lead them all, like a toast-master calling
on a company to ' charge their glasses.' As there were
generally three or four hundred ducks in the pond, their
' cheers ' could be heard a couple of miles off. A
stranger from Bournemouth, who happened to be
passing about half a mile away when one of these
salvoes was given, asked a rustic hedger and ditcher,
" What that extraordinary noise was, as if all the ducks
on earth had gone mad." And he was rather astonished
at the stolid rustic's reply :

" 'Tis Mr. Burkeley's ducks a-cheerin' for the
Prooshians."

In his extensive decoys Berkeley had some excellent
sport. He and his friends Lords Malmesbury and Ashley,
shooting from " gazes," or nattled huts, at the driven wild-
fowl, killed on one occasion 117 head of duck and teal,
and on another 56 head, all single overhead shots.

Something of the old coarse dandyism of his youth
was almost to the last apparent in Grantley Berkeley's
garb. He affected brilliant silk neckerchiefs and
gorgeous waistcoats, but in other respects he had toned
down. White locks suited his vividly florid complexion
better than the jet-black hair of his youth. He was
far handsomer as an old man than as a young one.
With ladies he was always popular, and Mrs. Rosa
Mackenzie Kettle, who was a near neighbour of his, has
paid this warm tribute to his memory :

VOL. II. 10

482 ifcinas of tbe 1Rofc, IRlfle, ant) (Bun

" Of course he had enemies — what ardent game pre-
server ever escaped them ! But he was not unpopular
with the better disposed of the rural population.
Children gathered and brought to him, during his
long illness, the earliest violets ; and all wild creatures
flocked to his premises.

For many a year he came and went among us as a
familiar friend, giving no trouble and conferring
pleasure. No one told a story better, or with fewer
redundant words. Eye and lip aided the merry voice
and gesture, and there was often deep pathos con-
trasted with the sunny smile. Though decidedly not ' a
lady's man,' all women worthy of the name liked him.
He was kind and gallant to the young, courteous to
those advanced in life. His delicately-white though
manly hands set off by deep, turned-back cuffs of fine
linen, and one or two very antique costly rings, his
simple, sportsmanlike, scrupulously neat garb — adapted
according to circumstances either to the open country
or a lady's drawing room — never seemed out of place.
His low, melodious voice rang as truly and pleasantly
in our ears as ever it did by the side of his own Mere,
where all the wild fowl flocked at his call. The warm
kindly clasp of his hand was the token of friendship as
true and warm as his indignation against any description
of fraud, meanness, even affectation, or false sentiment
was undoubtedly bitter."

The close of Grantley Berkeley's life was clouded by
domestic sorrow. His wife and both his sons died before
him, and he was left a lonely old man, with the title
which he had fondly reckoned upon, if not for himself, at

1bon. (Brantlep ff. Berkeley 483

any rate for his first-born, as far from his grasp as ever.
His health, too, broke up, and after many months of
acute suffering, bravely endured, he died on February
23rd, 1 88 1, having just completed his eighty-first year.
There were many phases of his character in which I
can find nothing to admire, but he was unquestionably
a good and true sportsman, and in that capacity I freely
admit his claims to respect and admiration.

Thomas Tod Stoddart

THE late Mr. Grant Allen made fishing his " chief
diversion " because " it was an occupation which gave
him time to think." John Bright took up the rod some-
what late in life because it was the only form of out-door
pastime which secured him healthy exercise without
much exertion. Now, men who regard fishing from such
points of view are not anglers in the true Waltonian
sense of the word, for, to quote old Izaak's immortal
apophthegm, " Angling is something like poetry, men
are to be born so." Your true angler thinks of nothing
but the sport whilst the rod is in his hand. He is
oblivious to everything else in the world. He has no
time to think of his surroundings, however picturesque
and beautiful, until, as Matthew Arnold has it, he lies
tired on the mountain sod, —

stretched out,

And, eased of basket and of rod,
Counts his day's spoil, the spotted trout.

Then he may light his pipe and lazily enjoy those sweet
and peaceful reflections which the literary angler loves

484

ZTbomas ZTofc Stofcfcart 485

to linger over when he takes up his pen, as though they
had been part and parcel of his sport. I do not say that the
angler is wholly unconscious of the beauty that surrounds
him. He takes his sensations in, as Joey Ladle did the
alcoholic vapours of the cellars, " through the pores of his
skin," but with as little consciousness of them at the
moment as the ploughman who monotonously turns the
furrows all through a lovely day in opening spring. It is
after the day's sport is over that he calls up the scenes
to the charm of which he was insensible whilst casting
his fly. I have never known a genuine sportsman who,
with rod or gun in his hand, was not so absolutely
absorbed in his sport as to have no thoughts for anything
else. Men of the Grant Allen and John Bright type are
not real, whole-hearted sportsmen. Now, this is just
what Thomas Tod Stoddart, the poet-angler of Kelso,
was. Angling was not to him a mere pastime — it was
the serious business of his life. Of all the <{ Kings of the
Rod " of whom I have discoursed in these pages he was
the most enthusiastic and the most devoted. His
daughter, Miss Anna M. Stoddart, in the opening
sentences of her delightful Memoir of her father — a
biographical gem of the first water — thus reveals the
mainspring of his character :

" My father called one day on Henry Glassford Bell,
and the genial sheriff hailed him with the very natural
question, ' Well, Tom, and what are you doing now ? '
With a moment's resentment, my father brought his
friend to his bearings. ' Doing ? Man, I'm an angler.'

That answer sounded the keynote of his life, and
suggested at once its ambitions and their realisation.

486 itfnss of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, ant) (Bun

His wishes, his tastes, his skill, his character all helped
to make him what he was — an angler ; and the bias that
found support in these presided over his lot, and led him
to choose for its conditions those that were most in its
favour. His happiness was to be near the two beloved
streams of Tweed and Teviot ; his glory was to know
them in every mood, to be familiar with their every
current and eddy and tributary, their sleepy willow-
shaded pools and glancing silvery reaches, their still
waters and noisy caulds, their swift red spates and
stagnant shallows, the birds that haunted their banks,
the very sedges and forget-me-nots that fringed their
margins. However far afield he went — and at one time
and another he fished almost every river, loch, and burn
in Scotland — he came back to his Tweedside home with
boundless content. The Tweed wa.s the best of rivers,
to his thinking, and next best was the Teviot, and he
did not care to stay long away from them. Only one
other river-valley vied in his regard with theirs — the
Vale of Yarrow and its lochs.

Besides these, other streams had their qualities, could
be fished for passing pleasure, could be critically discussed
and entered in his diary, could furnish adventures, and
even give good sport ; but their waters had no music in
their murmur, no thrill of countless recollections in their
rush.

As his best hours were passed in their neighbourhood,
he seldom left it ; so that his life is that of a man who
stayed chiefly at home, and found all needful variety in
the gentle and unexciting changes which brighten home
and country life."

ZTbomas ZTofc Stofcfcart 487

The Stoddarts were a good old Border family who
could trace back their descent to the Stout-hearts of
Yarrow, and had documentary proof of their importance
as far back as the fifteenth century. But unfortunately
these archives came into the possession of a Miss Helen
Stoddart, of Leith, an eccentric lady who imagined
herself to be bewitched, and arrived at the sage conclusion
that the evil influence was connected with the old family
papers, which she accordingly committed to the flames,
thus destroying all the records of the house of Stoddart
previous to the year 1600. " Similar follies," says Mr.
Andrew Lang, in his Introduction to Stoddart's weird
poem " The Death Wake," " are reported of a living old
lady on whose hearth, after a night of destruction, was
once found the impression of a seal of Mary of Modena."

Unlike most other Border folks the Stoddarts, though
excitable and litigious, were honest and acquired their
lands by fair purchase ! At least, so Miss Anna Stoddart
would have us believe ; though for my own part, owning
as I do forbears on the Northumbrian side of the Border,
I am disposed to put a very elastic construction on
the terms " honest " and " purchase." Some of these
Stoddarts were dour and grim enough, notably John of
that ilk, " the Beetle of Yarrow," as he was called, a
man of gigantic stature and strength who had fought
for the Covenanters at Drumclog. When this terrible
" Beetle " was lying, as it was thought, at the point of
death, his next-of-kin gathered round him, like vultures
round a dying lion, to divide his " gear " among them.
" The Beetle " in his sick-chamber, with his faithful
daughter by his side, heard through the half-open door

488 ifcinos of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, anfc Gun

the angry wranglings of these kinsfolk over their
expected share of the heritage. Suddenly in the midst
of the snarling pack stood a tall, gaunt figure, clad only
in his white night-shirt. Struck dumb with terror, they
gazed wildly at the awful apparition. One swift, fierce
glance big John cast at them, then lifted a long, bony
arm, and pointing to the door, cried in tones of fury,
" Begone, ye' re no heirs of mine. I'll marry this very
year and thwart ye all." They fled in consternation,
not quite sure whether it were man or wraith they had
seen. But "the Beetle" fulfilled his threat. He did
marry a few months later, and begat two sons, who
shared his estates between them.

Something of this dour and fierce temperament was
at times perceptible even in the poet-angler, who came
into the world on February I4th, 1810. He could
flare up into a fine Homeric frenzy when he met
an argumentative foeman worthy of his steel, and there
were times when his hands were ready to support his
tongue.

His up-bringing was stern. His father, Rear- Admiral
Stoddart, the third son of a well-to-do Baltic merchant
in Leith, was a martinet of the strictest sort, who
enforced obedience with the " tawse," almost as terrible
an instrument of punishment in the eyes of trembling
Scottish bairns as the Russian knout. Thomas Tod
Stoddart made early and frequent acquaintance with the
"tawse," both at home and at school. For his first
pedagogues, he tells us, were " both strict disciplinarians
and used the tawse freely, much to the advantage of their
pupils." Stoddart was of the stern tribe that swore by

ttbomas TEo& Stobfcart 489

Solomon's grim old saw, " He that spareth his rod hateth
his son." He had no belief in "the squeamish humanity
of the present age, which declares itself adverse to the
application of the lash as a deterrent and corrective
means of enforcing obedience."

It is hard to say whether poetry or angling first
asserted its sway over the boy. At the age of ten he
was deep in tragedy, spending all his money in penny
dreadfuls, from which he extracted the materials for his
harrowing dramas. " Blood and battle were the powers
with which he worked, and no meaner tools." His
passion for angling he inherited from his father and
grandfather, both experts with the rod. And it was
fostered by a French prisoner of war, a M. Senebrier,
who had elected to remain in Edinburgh after the
declaration of peace, and from whom young Tom
Stoddart learned what we now deem the unholy art
of potting salmon-roe for bait

After a brief and unhappy sojourn at a Moravian
school in Lancashire, Thomas Tod Stoddart returned to
Edinburgh, and with his brothers attended the High
School. They were all mad for angling, and every holi-
day was spent in fishing excursions. One delightful
adventure which befel them in the enjoyment of this
sport Miss Stoddart thus relates :

" Often the boys started early on Saturday morning,
and came home late at night. Very late hours were
strictly forbidden, as next day was Sunday ; and it is on
record that one evening, being somewhat belated, and
finding an empty and driverless hearse standing at
a toll-door, the horses' heads turned towards Edinburgh,

49° Htfn00 of tbe 1Rot>, IRifle, anfc (Bun

they got inside before the tipsy driver came out, and sat
in solemn silence till he had driven a short distance,
when his ears were assailed with unearthly howls and
shrieks and songs from the hearse, so that in mortal
terror he lashed the horses into a gallop, and they rattled
along at a most unholy pace. A steep ascent near Edin-
burgh forced the unhappy man to slacken speed, and
the boys, relapsing into silence, slid out one after the
other, much refreshed by the rest, and helped on their
way by the funereal lift. Four good boys arrived at
home in proper time, and without a hint on their
ingenuous faces of how they had fared thither."

In due course Thomas Tod Stoddart entered the
University, and amongst the professors whose lectures
he attended was John Wilson, the immortal " Christopher
North," whom the students worshipped as a demi-god.
With the Wilson family Stoddart became very intimate,
and the Professor's eldest son John was his life-long
friend. To have the run of Christopher North's house
in those days was in itself a liberal education for
a lad.

"These days of intimacy with the Wilsons," writes
Miss Stoddart, " heaped up for him a store of life-long
recollections ; and in recalling them, one seems again to
touch the * vanished hand' of that brilliant generation
whose influence has passed away. At the Professor's
table vivacious, sparkling, original conversation was the
rule ; guests unable to contribute to it seldom sat there ;
sons, daughters, and habitues came primed with fresh
and witty comment and story. Eccentricity, reckless-
ness, the freest discussion were permitted ; but all must

ZTbomas ZTob Stofcfcart 491

be with flow of fancy, thought, and racy expression.
Only John Wilson himself, or his frequent visitor
De Quincey, was allowed at times to dominate the talk ;
and my father used to say that when these rare
monopolies took place, the rest sat entranced, hanging
on the lips of the speaker. De Quincey he often met,
an old-looking man more than sixty years ago. [Miss
Stoddart, I should state, was writing in 1886.] One
day when he was talking to the Professor in the library,
De Quincey came in dressed only in a nightshirt, with
his arms full of books. He took no notice of them, but
returned the books to the shelves, collected another
armful, and left the room. He would lie in bed for
days, till he had read all the new books his host
possessed, and then he would get up, dress, and behave
much as other people. The Wilsons were endlessly
kind and forbearing to him, supplying his wants, giving
him money, which as often as not he tossed to the first
beggar he met, keeping him in their house for weeks
and months in spite of every provoking habit, admiring
and delighting in him when he joined their meals, and
opened out into a flow of fascinating talk, made electri-
fying sometimes by his power of subtle argument. The
Professor had his times of abstraction from the talk
of the supper-table. When his article for Blackwood
was due, and the printer's devil sat cooling his heels
in the hall, he would appear in his accustomed place,
but without his accustomed mien, coatless, silent,
ominous, with vacant eye, withdrawn in spirit from the
bright talk and laughter, which were no whit intermitted,
and after eating what he wished, would rise and leave

492 1fcin0s of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, anb (Bun

the table without a word, to return an hour or so after,
clothed and in his usual mind, a free and happy man,
disemburdened for the nonce. No one spoke to him on
those occasions, and no one minded him."

Long before this, however, when he was but a boy of
nine, Stoddart had been taken by his father on a fishing
excursion to Mount Benger on Yarrow, and had then
made the acquaintance of " the Ettrick Shepherd," who
was delighted to find that the lad had sympathy with
both poetry and angling. He was made free of Tibbie
Shiel's cottage on St. Mary's Loch — a place dear to all
anglers. Tibbie was a widow, who on the death of her
husband (Richardson) retook her maiden name, and was
allowed to make her cottage a kind of private inn, on
condition that she sold no wine or spirits. But there
was no need for her to do that, seeing that her guests
always brought " lashins o' liquor " with them.

Christopher North was a prime favourite of Tibbie's,
and till the Shepherd's death paid her cottage many a
visit. Talking over old days a few years before she died,
she said to a lady staying there, " There was mony a ane
cam' here, gentle and simple, but I aye likit the Cock o'
the North best, that was Professor Wilson, ye ken. I
likit him and Mr. Tom Stoddart and Hogg. Eh ! but
they were the callants for drinkin'. Mony's the time,
when they were at it, I've fried them a bit ham and took
it to them, and said,-' Ye'll just tak this bit ham, gentle-
men ; maybe it'll sober ye ' ; an' they would eat it, and
just on to the drinkin' again." And then, warming to the
old associations, she continued, "Yon Hogg, the Shepherd,
ye ken, was an awfu* fine man. He should hae ta'en me,

ZIbomas ZTofc Stofcfcart 493

for he cam' courtin' for years, but he just gaed away and
took anither."

One memorable visit of Thomas Stoddart's to Tibbie's,
in which William Edmonstoune Aytoun, the brilliant
author of " Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers," was his
companion, is thus described by his daughter :

"On the afternoon of the 4th of May, 1832, William
Aytoun and my father made their appearance at Tibbie's
cottage, footsore and weary, after a morning at the
Tweed and a tramp from Innerleithen. They found
the place turned upside down, and the usually hospitable
Tibbie by no means glad to see them. * Ye canna bide
here/ she said, * there's no a room for ye.' It turned out
that it was her eldest son's wedding-day, and that great
preparations were being made for the event, which was
to take place in Scotch fashion that evening. The
young men flatly refused to be turned off, invited them-
selves to the wedding, and offered to sleep on tables,
chairs, or benches, if they could get no better bed.
Tibbie gave way at this, and made them welcome. All
afternoon the guests dropped in from Forest farm and
hamlet, and when the hour arrived there came with it,
not only the minister, but the Shepherd with his maud
on his shoulders, and a fiddle in its folds. He was
master of the ceremonies and chief fiddler when the
dancing set in, and no better fiddler ever kept a ball
going. Supper and whisky were plentiful. Aytoun and
my father gave in at midnight, for neither was skilled at
reels and country-dances, and they were weary with the
morning's walk. They had drunk more healths, too,
than their heads were used to, and they crept into bed

494 Ifcfnss of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, ant> Gun

and fell fast asleep in the very middle of the uproar.
Hogg fiddled and the company danced till four in the
morning, when a great ' skailing ' took place in the
daylight, and the weary Shepherd rolled into the empty
press-bed in the kitchen. But he could not sleep for
excitement and thirst, and in the morning his room-
fellows were wakened by his shouts for water. He had
emptied both jugs in the kitchen, and was bawling,
* Tibbie, wuman ! watter's terrible scarce wi' ye ; can ye
no fetch in the loch ? ' "

It was whilst he was on a fishing tour in the year 1836,
being then six-and-twenty years of age, that there came
to Thomas Tod Stoddart the one romance of his life — a
romance which bears a strong resemblance to that of
the hero of Clough's " Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich." He
had fished Badenoch and the valley of the Spey, had
wandered from Inverness to Dingwall, and thence to the
chain of lochs north of Strath-peffer, when his fate met
him at Contin. Miss Stoddart tells the story so charm-
ingly that it would spoil it to give it in any words but
her own :

" Early in July, he made his way by the Strath to
Contin, where a comfortable-looking farmhouse by the
roadside offered rest and accommodation to travellers.
Opposite the house, and across the road was a garden
gay with flowers, and beyond the garden stretched a
stately pine-wood. He had crossed a bridge over the
Rasay, and knew that a mile farther on lay Loch Achilty,
with its pine-clad tor, and farther west still Lochs Garve
and Linchart, with their feeders and effluents, and the
numerous lily-bordered lochlets in their neighbourhood.

ftbomas TTob Stofcfcart 495

He knew that the Strath was full of tempting waters, and
that Highland proprietors had not yet discovered their
value in the Southern market. His rod and he would
have kindly access to all, or nearly all ; so he made up
his mind for a prolonged halt in the cosy farmhouse,
which was inn as well. Some girls were playing
1 bedgels ' on the road in front of the house, and as he
turned to the handsome old farmer at the door, he turned
at the sound of their laughter to watch them for a
moment. That moment sealed his fate. They were
such a bevy of girls as one seldom sees, tall, straight, and
graceful, with faces little short of beautiful ; and one of
them, ' more than common tall,' with arched black eye-
brows, grey eyes, and a cloud of raven hair riveted his
gaze. The girls had taken no notice of the traveller at
first, but finding him rapt in admiration of 'Bessadh,'
they took to their heels like a herd of startled deer and
fled round the end of the house. Here was a poet's
destiny sprung on him, as it should be, from an ambush
primevally planned. He stayed at Contin about three
weeks, making acquaintance not only with the streams
and lochs, but with the family at the farm. It was not
very easy to pursue his wooing, because Bessie either
took to her heels or relapsed into Gaelic at his slightest
advance, and as he was genuinely in love, he had to take
the father into his confidence and win his help. Old
Mr. Macgregor's help was somewhat misleading at times,
as he did not very well understand the Sassenach wooer
himself, and the Gaelic compliments with which he
furnished him gave their object a firm impression that
her admirer was a lunatic. Time however convinced

496 Ifcfnas of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc 6un

her that he was not madder than reason ; and when his
stay came to an end, her shyness was so far overcome
that her father promised he should marry her after a
year, if his parents gave their consent."

As I read of those shy Highland girls 1 recall that
exquisite passage in " Eothen " in which Kinglake
describes the beautiful wild maidens of Bethlehem, and
the one picture is almost as charming as the other.

The Admiral and his wife were considerably as-
tonished when their son returned and calmly informed
them that he was engaged to be married to the daughter
of a Highland crofter — a girl who could not even speak
her lover's tongue. But by this time the Admiral had
come to regard Tom as a poor, shiftless creature, who
would never settle down to any decent, profitable
occupation, but must just e'en be allowed to gang
his ain gait. So no serious opposition was made to the
engagement. Bessie Macgregor was sent to a school
at Inverness for eight months to learn English and the
simple rules of etiquette, and after that brief probation
she became Mrs. Thomas Tod Stoddart. It was a
happy marriage, and the handsome Highland lassie was
a wife of whom any man might well have been proud.

They began their married life humbly in furnished
lodgings, and then a visit to Kelso decided them to
make that their permanent home. Needless to say, the
Tweed and the silvery Teviot hard by were the magnets
that drew Thomas Tod Stoddart to Kelso and kept him
there. Of all its many lovers Tweed has never had
one more devoted nor one who has sung its glories in
sweeter verse.

tTbomas Uob Stofcfcact 497

Stoddart had been admitted to the Faculty of
Advocates in 1833, but he had never made the slightest
attempt to practise. In literature, however, he had
begun to dabble. He had already given the world the
first-fruits of his pen in " The Art of Angling," a series
of papers reprinted from Chambers 's Journal. In 1847
appeared " The Angler's Companion to the Rivers and
Lakes of Scotland," of which Christopher North, in one
of his big, glowing rhapsodies in " Maga," wrote : " The
companion we want is ' The Angler's Companion.' As a
teacher of practical angling in Scotland we look on Mr.
Stoddart to be without rival or equal. What does the
book lack ? Anything ? No, not even ' a simple recipe
for cooking a whitlingor good trout by the river side' What
a smack there is here of inimitable and beloved Izaak ! "

And, in good sooth, if ever the mantle of " the
Father of Angling " can be said to have fallen on
the shoulders of any of his disciples, it was surely on
those of Thomas Tod Stoddart. Indeed, his daughter
modestly makes this claim for him :

" A follower of Izaak Walton, my father was his heir
in exclusive devotion to the sovereign art to which he
paid tribute of all gifts he owned, of time and talents
and enthusiasm, pressing into its service, like his master,
such powers as have availed to crown it with a literary
distinction no other sport has gained."

It is by his "Angling Songs" that Stoddart is best
remembered, and by virtue of these he takes high rank
among the bards of the " gentle art." But that he had
poetic stuff in him of a higher order than his songs
indicate is proved by his weird and ghoulish poem " The

VOL. II. II

498 1fcin09 of tbe IRofc, TCifle, anfc <3un

Death Wake." It may have been suggested by Keats's
" Isabella and the Pot of Basil," but, horrible though the
fantasy be, there is a wild, ghastly, imaginative force in
many passages which shows a distinct flash of original
genius. But either the fire died out or the poet was at
no pains to keep it alive, for Stoddart never again rose
to the same height or anywhere near it. Perhaps the
contemptuous criticism of Christopher North " froze
the genial current of the soul." In the "Angler's
Companion " and " Angling Rambles " the songs are
delightfully interspersed with the prose, and they
have a freshness and spirit all their own.

Mr. Andrew Lang, himself a poet and an angler, in
his " Letters to Dead Authors," has one addressed to
Izaak Walton, in which with graceful fancy he links
the names of these two among the immortals :

"Father, if Master Stoddart, the great fisher of
the Tweedside, be with thee, greet him for me, and
thank him for those songs of his, and perchance he
will troll thee a catch of our dear River.

Tweed ! winding and wild ! when the heart is unbound
They know not, they dream not, who linger around,
How the saddest will smile, and the wasted re-win
From thee the bliss withered within.

Or perhaps thou wilt better love —

The lanesome Tala and the Lyne

And Manor in its mountain rills,
An' Etterick, whose waters twine

Wi' Yarrow frae the forest hills ;
An* Gala, too, and Teviot bright,

An' mony a stream o' playfu' speed,
Their kindred valleys a' unite

Amang the braes o' bonnie Tweed!

ZTbomas ZTofc Stofcfcart 499

So, Master, may you sing against each other, you two
good old anglers, like Peter and Corydon, that sang in
your golden age."

And yet I doubt whether sedate Master Izaak, mind-
ful only of the peaceful delights of bottom-fishing, could
quite enter into the spirit of the following breezy and
stirring song, which I quote as a fair representative
example of Stoddart's angling muse :

THE TAKING OF THE SALMON

A birr! a whirr! a salmon's on,

A goodly fish ! a thumper !
Bring up, bring up the ready gaff,
And if we land him we shall quaff
Another glorious bumper!
Hark ! 'tis the music of the reel,

The strong, the quick, the steady ;
The line darts from the active wheel,
Have all things right and ready.

A birr! a whirr! the salmon's out,

Far on the rushing river;
Onward he holds with sudden leap,
Or plunges through the whirlpool deep,
A desperate endeavour !
Hark to the music of the reel !

The fitful and the grating ;
It pants along the breathless wheel,
Now hurried — now abating.

in

A birr! a whirr! the salmon's off! —

No, no, we still have got him ;
The wily fish is sullen grown,
And like a bright imbedded stone,
Lies gleaming at the bottom.

500 ifcfnas of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, an& 6un

Hark to the music of the reel!

'Tis hush'd, it hath forsaken;
With care we'll guard the magic wheel,

Until its notes re waken.

IV

A birr! a whirr! the salmon's up,
Give line, give line and measure ;
But now he turns! keep down ahead,
And lead him as a child is led,
And land him at your leisure.
Hark to the music of the reel!

'Tis welcome, it is glorious,
It wanders through the winding wheel,
Returning and victorious.

A birr ! a whirr ! the salmon's in,

Upon the bank extended ;
The princely fish is gasping slow,
His brilliant colours come and go
All beautifully blended.
Hark to the music of the reel !

It murmurs and it closes ;
Silence is on the conquering wheel,
Its wearied line reposes.

VI

No birr! no whirr! the salmon's ours,

The noble fish — the thumper:
Strike through his gill the ready gaff,
And bending homewards, we shall quaff
Another glorious bumper.
Hark to the music of the reel !

We listen with devotion ;
There's something in that circling wheel
That wakes the heart's emotion !

Those who knew Stoddart best said that it was not in
the number or the size of the fish he captured that he
was distinguished from other anglers, but in his "un-

ttbomas ZTo& Stewart 501

quenchablc eagerness " for the sport. The largest fish
he ever killed in the Teviot just turned 32 Ibs., and
was landed after a tremendously vigorous run of more
than half an hour. His biggest Tweed fish was 28 Ibs.

" But," says his daughter, " his skill as a salmon fisher
was apparent enough, and I have heard one of the best
anglers of the last generation say that to watch my
father play and capture a salmon was to receive a perfect
lesson in the art. He had much delicacy of wrist, which
gave a certain artistic finish to his handling of the rod
and reel when his blood was up in a worthy encounter
with a vigorous fish. The same delicacy served him in
fly-making, with which he wiled away the hours of
unpropitious weather and in which his skill was
sufficiently known to tempt vendors of fishing tackle
to put his name to lures of their own contriving. He
was once pressed in an Edinburgh shop to buy an
assortment of flies at which no sensible salmon would
have looked, on the ground that they were made after
patterns by Mr. Stoddart of Kelso."

His friend Mr. Michie, too, himself an expert angler,
bears the following testimony to Stoddart's skill as a
fisherman :

" I for one can testify to some of Mr. Stoddart's
angling feats which came under my observation, one of
which was his taking at least three or four stone weight
of trout from the Teviot with salmon-roe, then a legal
lure, and very much used. Maxwellheugh Mill Anna,
on the south side of the river, was his swim. I was on
the north side, and almost opposite. The trout were
taking well that day, and I had caught between six and

502 icings ot tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anO $un

seven dozen of them, fair-sized, perhaps not in good
season. However, that went for nothing with me at
that time. I could notice that Mr. Stoddart was taking
at least two for my one. It was getting well on in the
afternoon when, all at once, he laid down his fishing-rod
and seemed to have given up the sport. I had also
made up my mind to leave and wound up ; and, being
curious to see his take, I came over the bridge down to
the Anna, and got over by the mill-lead sluice to where
Mr. Stoddart still was. I could hardly believe what I
there saw. His basket (a very large salmon one) was
filled, aye, crammed with trout. The weight could not
be less than a quarter of a hundredweight, and nearly
as many were lying on the bank, which he had begun to
strap up on a strong cord. Of course I expressed
surprise as well as admiration at the great catch, when
he quietly said, ' Man, if I had not been out of bait, I
could have killed as many more ; and to show you
something perhaps you never saw before, look here ! '
He sat down by the river-side, and commenced washing
his hands, and I could see the trout actually nibbling at
his finger-ends — a fact which had to be seen to be
believed. He told me many instances of the like, and
other strange experiences and feats of fishing which
seemed almost incredible.

Another day, when angling on the same river, between
the Old Castle cast and Heiton Mill, another favourite
cast, I met Mr. Stoddart coming down. He was literally
clad with salmon and sea-trout ; his large hamper was
full, and five or six strapped on his rod hanging across
his shoulder and down his back, the perspiration stream-

Ubomas Uofc Stottoart 503

ing down his face, and dripping off his beard and hair.
I cried ' Hallo ! Mr. Stoddart, what's up the day ?
You're killing yourself.' He gave a quiet laugh and
said, ' I'm doing this to let the beggars see that all fishers
are not liars ; for the other day, when I had killed eleven
fish (more than the half of which I had left with the
boatmen and other people at Roxburgh), they threw
that in my teeth ; so of course this will open their eyes
to see that what I have done to-day, I might have
done yesterday.' I think he enjoyed the discomfiture
of the unbelieving ' beggars.' "

When the late Mr. W. C. Stewart, one of the grandest
fisherman of his own or any other day, brought out
his book on " Practical Angling," Stoddart was much
annoyed to find that its theories, which were opposed to
his own, found such favour with the public that " The
Art of Angling " and " The Angler's Companion " lost
their popularity. Stoddart was getting old, and, like all
sportsmen when they fall into the sere and yellow leaf,
he regarded sport from a more philosophical and leisurely
point of view than he had done in his hot youth. He
liked to saunter over his angling, —

Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet,

while fashioning some new one of his own. " The mere
monotonous slaying of trout," says Miss Stoddarti
" scarcely represented to him the sum of gain to be
derived from a day's angling." Therefore he was wroth
with Stewart, whose only aim seemed to be to kill fish.
And yet in his younger days, I fancy, Thomas Tod
Stoddart would have scorned as unworthy the name of

$04 1kfn0s of tfoe 1Rot>, TCifle, an& (Bun

fisherman one who let any sentiment stand in the way
of his killing fish, which after all is the chief end of man,
the angler. There was a challenge from Thomas Tod
Stoddart and John Wilson, as representatives of what
they were pleased to call " the old school " of anglers, to
Stewart and anyone he liked to name as the represen-
tatives of the new school, to fish the Tweed or Teviot for
two days. The great match never came off ; but Miss
Stoddart regretfully expresses her opinion that if it had
come off victory would have gone to Mr. Stewart and
the new school. And in that opinion I entirely agree
with her.

But apart from these little irritations, life passed
pleasantly with Thomas Tod Stoddart. He could have
said with Wordsworth, —

Hence have I genial seasons, hence have I

Smooth passions, smooth discourse and joyous thought :

And thus from day to day my little boat

Rocks in its harbour, lodging peaceably.

His daughter gives us this pleasing picture of him as
his days drew to their close :

" In the evening when supper was over, his desk was
put on the table, and for two hours his pen was busy.
The habit of seeking daily expression in writing was one
acquired in boyhood ; and although much of what he
wrote was destroyed, and much of his later work was
overweighted with cumbrous phrasing, his steady resort
to it proved the characteristic, if not very practical,
vitality of his mind. He had a native indisposition to
prescribed work, but by no means the natural indolence

ZTbomas ZTo& Stofcfcart 505

of which he accused himself. Although a great many
men would call him an idler, the few men capable of
appreciating his powers and the conditions which alone
were favourable to them, would admit that he wasted far
less of his time than those who make haste to be rich.
The proof was in his unfailing content. ' My life,' he
wrote a few weeks before he died, ' has abounded in
happy passages. I have been blessed with a joyous and
loving wife, attached children, many genial friends,
many endearing associations and delights, also a com-
petent income so far as my wants in that direction
extend. What more can a man desire ? '

His temper was irascible, and when he and his lifelong
friend John Wilson, whose death was a blow to Stoddart
from which he never wholly recovered, met after a long
absence they would become so heated in argument and
raise their voices to such a bellicose pitch, that any
stranger overhearing them would certainly have thought
that they were coming to blows. Yet a few minutes
later they would be bidding one another good-night with
laughter on their lips. There were occasions, however,
on which Stoddart's vehemence led to personal assault.
His great rival as an angler at Kelso was a Doctor
David Robertson, an old Tweedsider, who had resented
from the first Stoddart's encroachment on what he
deemed his prerogative. The word-combats between
them were frequent and bitter. Both indulged freely in
invective, but Stoddart was the keener at repartee, and
his taunts had a sting which cut his adversary to the
quick. In one of these encounters Robertson, exasper-
ated by some particularly cutting retort of his adversary,

so6 Ifcfn0s of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, an& (Bun

rushed at him, seized him by the throat and nearly
strangled him. It was only after a desperate struggle
that Stoddart shook off that hangman's grip. Boiling
with rage, Stoddart set off to the Fiscal's to take out a
summons for assault. But on the way his anger cooled
— maybe the sight of Tweed, making sweet music over his
pebbles, brought thoughts of peace — and the summons
was not applied for. Thenceforward the two rivals lived
so far amicably that they kept their hands off one another.

Unlike Russel of The Scotsman, Thomas Tod
Stoddart had the gift of eloquence. He lectured now
and then on subjects congenial to him, particularly the
Imaginative in Poetry and Art, and those who heard him
were fascinated by the beauty of his language and the
fire of his delivery.

He was, too, a fine reader and an excellent mimic.
His famous " Gaelic sermon " has been immortalised in
the " Noctes." Stoddart did not know a word of Gaelic,
but he once heard an eloquent Highland minister deliver a
sermon in that tongue with such dramatic and impressive
power that he grasped the meaning from the effect
produced on the excited hearers, and reproduced every
gesture and sound with such marvellous fidelity that a
party of Highland drovers, who overheard him give the
sermon to some friends on board the Clansman, listened
entranced, never doubting that it was Gaelic they heard.
They expressed the opinion, however, that it was not their
own Gaelic but that of Ross-shire, as indeed it was in
accent, for it was there that Stoddart heard the words the
sound of which he so faithfully reproduced in his own
dramatic and deceptive gibberish.

ZTbomas ITo& Stofcfcart 507

Another similar feat of mimicry is thus described by
his daughter :

"In June 1857 occurred his visit to London as a
witness before the Parliamentary Committee on the
Tweed Acts, and in this visit he was accompanied by
his wife. Together they enjoyed some of the season's
gaieties, receiving many pleasant attentions from old
and new acquaintances. These included a box for some
Italian Opera, on which occasion my father fell fast
asleep. He had just enough appreciation of operatic
singing to found upon it one of his most amusing
displays, which was a very suggestive reminiscence of
the shrill woes and warbled joys of the then fashion-
able Italian Opera, for which he ingeniously used as sole
libretto the word ' Abercromby.' "

With such accomplishments in the host, added to
his delightful talk of poetry and angling, one can well
understand that " a nicht wi' Tarn Stoddart " was an
event never to be forgotten by those who had been
allowed the privilege of enjoying it.

To the last Stoddart was able to pursue the sport
to which he had devoted his life. He died at Kelso on
November 2ist, 1880, in his seventy-first year, within
sight and sound of the river he knew and loved so well.
And one may surely be permitted to fancy, as the poet-
angler himself would have loved to do, that the ripples of
Tweed sang his requiem.

Call it not vain ; — they do not err
Who say that when the Poet dies
Mute Nature mourns her worshipper
And celebrates his obsequies.

Henry Astbury Leveson
"The Old Shekarry"

THIRTY years ago there was no writer on sport in its
adventurous phases better known or more widely read
than " the Old Shekarry." The Times, in a critique of
one of his books, paid this high tribute to his literary
merits : " A sincere devotion to his art elevates Major
Leveson into a kind of troubadour of hunting crusades,
gives eloquence to his pictures of forest scenery, and
no mean grace to the improvised songs with which he
was wont to beguile the evening after a day's sport."
The Saturday Review, then a tremendous power in the
literary world, was equally eulogistic of his qualities
as a sportsman : " The Old Shekarry is essentially a
sportsman and not a butcher of game. His object has
not been to slaughter for the sake of slaughtering, but,
save in the case of animals hostile to man, such as tigers
and rogue elephants, to kill as much as necessary for
the supply of himself and his followers, and no more."

There was hardly a spot on the habitable globe where
big game abounds in which Leveson had not pitched
his hunting-tent ; his books teem with thrilling stories
of daring adventures and hairbreadth escapes ; and yet

THE OLD SHEKARRY."

Bstburp Xereson 509

he Is now practically forgotten : his books are hardly
known even by name to the present generation ; and
though he only died in 1876, he is utterly ignored by
the editors of " The Dictionary of National Biography,"
albeit many far lesser celebrities find a place there.

Why has this neglect fallen upon a once popular
author ? The answer to that question is, I think, to be
found in the fact that even his contemporaries who read
him did not take " the Old Shekarry " seriously. There
was an air of romance, of almost Munchausen-like
extravagance, about many of his yarns which raised the
suspicion that he was playing upon the credulity of the
public, that he was a greater performer with the long
bow than with gun, rifle, or spear. This was certainly
the impression which many of his thrilling adventures
left upon me. And yet, even when all due deductions
are made on this score, it must be admitted that " the
Old Shekarry's" career as a hunter of big game was
a very remarkable one. I can best prove that assertion
by a brief sketch of his life, with a few illustrative
extracts from his books.

Henry Astbury Leveson was born on June i8th, 1828.
On the subject of his parentage he was reticent, and
I shall not attempt to lift the curtain which he chose
to drop on his early life. At the age of seventeen he
received a commission in the Honourable East India
Company's service, and sailed for Madras. He soon
gained himself a name as a tiger-slayer and pig-sticker,
and his adventures in Hyderabad and with the Deccan
Hunt will be found, narrated with great spirit, in his
early books.

of tbe IRofc, IRtfle, anfc Gun

His most memorable feat as a shikarri was the slaying
of a man-eating tiger under remarkable circumstances,
which testified to his extraordinary coolness and
courage. The " man-eater " in question had for a long
while been the terror of the district, and had carried off
upwards of a hundred human beings. Most of its
victims were women and girls, whose skulls and bones,
with ornaments still attached to them, were found in its
lair. Its latest victims, however, had been among the
ddks, or native running postmen. Leveson resolved to
kill this u man-eater." There was a council held among
the native shikarris, the issue of which " the Old
Shekarry" thus graphically describes:

"At length Kistimah said he had been thinking of
a plan which, though dangerous in the execution, might
be attended with success. It was for me to go, with
a man dressed as a runner, down the main road at
sunset, being the time the tiger generally carried off his
victims, and run the chance of getting a shot.

At this proposition sundry interjectional expressions
such as ' Abah ! ' ' Arrez ! ' ' Toba ! ' ' Toba ! ' escaped
from the lips of the bystanders, and from sundry
shakings of heads, and other unmistakeable signs, I could
see that it had not found much favour in their eyes.
Chineah, the dhoby, and one or two of the gang,
however, approved of the plan, and Kistimah offered to
accompany me as the post-runner.

This, however, I objected to, for I thought that I
should have a better chance of meeting the tiger if
I went alone than in company ; besides I preferred
having only myself to look after. The plan of action

•foenrv? Hstburs Xeveeon 5"

once settled, I returned to the village and obtained from
the patel the bamboo on which the tappal-runners sling
the mail-bags over their shoulders. To the end of this
is an iron ring with a number of small pieces of metal
attached, making a jingling noise as the man runs,
which gives warning of the coming of the post to any
crowd that might be obstructing the path, allowing
them time to get out of his way. Having broken off
the ring, I fastened it to my belt, so as to allow it to
jingle as I walked ; and arming myself with a short
double rifle by Westley Richards, a brace of pistols, and
a huge shekar knife, I made Kistimah lead the way
down the road towards the place where the man-eater
was said to lurk. . . .

The sun had almost set as I proceeded slowly down
the road, and, although I was perfectly cool and as
steady as possible, I felt cold drops of perspiration start
from my forehead as I approached the spot where so
many victims had been sacrificed. I passed the rock,
keeping well on the look-out, listening carefully for the
slightest sound, and I remember feeling considerably
annoyed by the chirping made by a couple of little
bulbuls (Indian nightingales), that were fighting in a
bush close to the roadside. Partridges were calling
loudly all around, and as I passed the watercourse I saw
a jackal skulking along its bed. I stopped, shook my
jingling affair, and listened several times as I went
along, but to no purpose.

Whilst ascending the opposite side of the ravine I
heard a slight noise like the crackling of a dry leaf : I
paused, and turning to the left, fronted the spot from

of tbe 1Rofc, 1Riflet anfc (Bun

whence I thought the noise proceeded. I distinctly saw
a movement or waving in the high grass, as if something
was making its way towards me : then I heard a loud
purring sound, and saw something twitching backwards
and forwards behind a clump of low bush and long grass,
about eight or ten paces from me, and a little in the
rear. It was a ticklish moment, but I felt prepared. I
stepped back a couple of paces, in order to get a better
view, which action probably saved my life, for immediately
the brute sprang into the middle of the road, alighting
about six feet from the place where I was standing. I
fired a hurried shot ere he could gather himself up for
another spring, and when the smoke cleared away, I saw
him rolling over and over in the dusty road, writhing in
his death agony, for my shot had entered the neck and
gone down into his chest. I stepped on one side and
gave him my second barrel behind the ear, when dark
blood rushed from his nostrils, a slight tremor passed
over his limbs, and all was still. The man-eater was
dead, and his victims avenged."

After nine years of soldiering and sport in India
Leveson returned to England in 1853. When the war
with Russia broke out he at once offered his services to
the Turkish Government, and obtained a command in
the Light Cavalry under Osman Pasha, who was then
advancing with an army into the Danubian Provinces.
Here " the Old Shekarry " performed one of the most
extraordinary feats in his varied career. He had gone
out on a reconnaissance and, in company with his friend
Fritz von Roth, a young Hungarian, was cut off by the
Cossacks. A desperate ride for life followed. " The

Hstburp Xeveson 5 '3

Old Shekarry's " deadly rifle had already accounted for
four of the enemy, but they still swooped on, and what
followed I will let the hero himself describe :

" We breathed our horses until the clattering of hoofs
behind us again intimated the near approach of the
enemy, and again bullets whistled around us. My rifle
killed when their smooth-bored carbines were useless, so
I turned in the saddle and with another right and left
brought down a couple of the leading horses, which,
however, scarcely checked the rush, for they evidently
thought that we must now fall into their hands. I
therefore exchanged my unloaded rifle for the six-
shooter carried by Fritz, and prepared to execute my
former manoeuvre, by pretending to be wounded, and,
pulling up my horse I flung myself at full length on the
ground, which caused a yell of intense satisfaction to
burst from a knot of the leading pursuers. Their
triumph, however, was of short duration, for as they
rushed up to immolate me, I raised myself on my elbow,
and coolly gave them the contents of my six barrels at
bout-portant, which emptied as many saddles, and turned
their shrieks of rage into cries of despair. With a
derisive shout of scorn, and a peculiar if not graceful
action, intimating contempt, I jumped on my horse, and
in a few moments was again cantering alongside of
my friend."

That was not bad work for a man armed with the six-
shooter of those days, which, as anyone who has handled
it will admit, was a cumbrous and untrustworthy
weapon! In this little affair "the Old Shekarry "
killed twelve Russians "to his own gun," besides

VOL. II. 12

514 Ikinas ot tbe 1Rot>, IRifle, ant) (Bun

horses ! But even this feat was eclipsed by a later
performance of his at Inkerman. The Turkish division
to which he was at the moment attached was not
engaged, but that mattered little to Leveson. He
promptly gave the "bono Johnnies" the slip and
attached himself to the 63rd Regiment (now the Man-
chesters), and with them he had his fill of fighting. His
horse was shot under him, he was severely wounded
by a fragment of shell on the hip ; but despite these
mishaps he performed prodigies of valour.

" An old friend of mine," he writes, " Lieut-Col.
Swyny, of the 63rd Regiment, was killed at my side. I
was one of the first up, and I retook a French brass gun
and two carriages for ammunition which the Russians
had taken from the French. ... I had the pleasure of
settling a few of their officers, for after my horse was
struck I took a sergeant's rifle and went with the
skirmishers of the 3Oth. We were following the Russians,
who were in full retreat, when I noticed their officers
turning round and trying to make their men stand.
Finding this was the case, I kept my rifle for them only,
and cut two of them over, as well as a bugler who was
trying to sound a call. I took his bugle, and will send it
to my uncle as a trophy if I get a chance. This was the
only way I could find out the officers, who dress like
the men."

With the exception of the exploits of Colonel Peard,
" Garibaldi's Englishman," with his double-barrelled rifle
against the Austrians in the war of 1859, I don't think
I have ever read of anything quite so cold-blooded as
this potting of Russian officers by " the Old Shekarry."

Bstburp Xev>e0on 515

But the foregoing feats by no means exhausted " the
Old Shekarry's " fighting experiences at Inkerman. He
goes on to tell us :

" The most desperate hand-to-hand fight then ensued.
My revolvers did me good service that day, and saved
my life on several occasions ; but they were soon dis-
charged, there was no time to reload, and I had to take
to the sabre. During the metie I received a severe bayonet
wound in the knee, from a Russian sergeant, whom I
afterwards cut down, and my horse was twice wounded,
but excitement carried us on. Our ammunition was
nearly expended, and the odds against us were at least
ten to one, still our brave fellows fought on, and the
enemy were beginning to give way, when all at once
I saw Sir George Cathcart and Colonel Seymour go
down. I forced my way towards the spot where they
fell, and had just passed my sword through a fellow who
was bayoneting Seymour, when I saw a red flash, felt
my horse sink under me, and all was oblivion. For
nine days afterwards I was amongst the dead, having
neither feeling nor consciousness, not even being sensible
to pain.

It appears that a shell exploded close under my horse's
flank, killing him instantaneously, and one fragment
striking me at the side, whilst at the next moment I was
hit on the head. I lay where I fell until the next day,
as I was thought to be killed. The next morning, when
the dead were collected, I was found stripped of my
uniform jacket, flannel-shirt, boots and socks, and was
taken to be buried at Cathcart's Hill, when a staff-
surgeon, who formerly belonged to the ' Holy Boys '

si6 ikfnas of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, ant) Gun

(the Qth Foot), found that ' there was life in the old dog
still.1 I was carried on a French mule to Balaklava, put
on board the Orinoco, and taken to Scutari Hospital,
where, on the I4th of November, nine days after having
been wounded, I was trephined, and recovered my
senses immediately the instrument was removed, and the
pressure taken off the brain. I had a weary time in
hospital, and for months lay between life and death, but
thanks to the skilful treatment of Doctors Macgregor
and Anderson I weathered the shock, and although my
grog has been stopped I am still to the fore. Since then
I have seen many a red field won, but none to be
compared to Inker man, ' the soldiers' battle,' for hard
fighting."

He had scarcely recovered from his wounds at
Scutari when he astonished the French cavalry officers,
at their camp, not far from Stamboul, by a marvellous
feat in horse-taming. He had gone by invitation to look
at some Syrian horses which were for sale :

" I was turning away," he writes, " not at all satisfied
with their appearance, as they were too slight, and not
of the required height for my purpose, when I was
accosted by an officer of hussars, who offered to show me
a magnificent horse that no one would buy on account
of incurable vice. He was a Saclaye Arab, bred near
Blida in Algeria, and bought by a colonel of cavalry for
three thousand francs in that country ; but since his
arrival in Turkey he had manifested such vicious habits
that his owner had never mounted him. He was said to
have killed one groom by jumping upon him after he
had knocked him down with his fore feet, to have bitten

fbenrp Hstburg Xeveson 517

the chin off a second, maimed several, and, amongst
other crimes, to have half eaten a marechal-de-logis
(sergeant-major) who had attempted to ride him. I
found him tied fore-and-aft by huge cords, besides having
his head fastened with a heavy chain, in a small thatched
mud-hut, about eight feet by seven ; and even in this
confined space no one could approach him, for he lashed
out with his heels, and tried to seize any one going near
him with his teeth. He was a beautifully shaped animal,
with a blood-like head, wide and deep chest, good
shoulders, and great length between the hip-bone and
the hocks — but in woful condition, for he had not been
groomed for a couple of months. I saw at once that he
would be just the animal to suit me, if I could only gain
the mastery over him, so I went to his owner to inquire
the price."

The price was settled, and it only remained to master
the horse. The whole French camp turned out to see
the mad Englishman's discomfiture. His procedure
puzzled them. He obtained from the Turkish com-
mandant a fatigue party of twenty men, who arrived
armed with spades and pickaxes. Leveson then proceeds
to narrate what ensued :

11 I first directed the ' Buono Johnnies ' to take off the
roof, and then to break down the upper part of the wall
all round until it was only four feet and a-half high,
which operation was soon done. ! then took two ropes,
and throwing them, lasso-fashion, over the horse's head,
I fastened them right and left to pickets strongly driven
in the ground. When this was done I threw a blanket
over his eyes, to prevent his seeing what was going on,

sis ifcfngs of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, an& Gun

and then, passing a long strip of canvas over his loins,
and pegging it down strongly, so as to prevent his
moving about, I quietly cut the hobbles fastening his
heels and fetlocks, and then made the Turks fill up the
whole stable with sand, covering him up to the depth of
nearly four feet. He was extremely restive when the
first few shovel-fulls were thrown in, but finding his head
securely fastened, and perhaps feeling frightened at being
blindfolded, he remained tolerably passive, although he
showed his temper by continually grinding his teeth.
When I saw that he was so completely buried that
there was no chance of his being able to extricate
himself, I took the strip of canvas from off his loins, and
uncovered his eyes, when he began to make violent
efforts in order to free himself, but it was all in vain ;
like Sampson in the hands of the Philistines, when his
head was shorn, his strength had departed from him,
and after a few desperate struggles he became exhausted,
and lay still, bathed in perspiration.

During his attempts to free himself I remained by his
side caressing him whilst quiet, and rating him when he
showed temper ; and after some time had elapsed, he
allowed me to handle his head, as if he had become
more resigned to his fate. Round his neck I fastened a
collar formed of pieces of wood tied together, so as to
prevent him getting his head round, and laying hold of
my legs, a pastime I heard he sometimes indulged in.
Then I put on the saddle and fastened the girths and
circingle, by scraping away the sand from under his
belly, after which, with a good deal of coaxing and
caressing, I managed to slip on the bridle, as well as a

fjenn? Hstburv? Xereson 519

twitch over his nose to use in case he again became
obstreperous, and arming myself with a foil, lent me by
one of the officers present, no riding-whip being at hand,
I jumped on his back, getting on and off several times,
to show that I had no intention of hurting him. All
was now ready, and I gradually liberated his head from
the cords, which fastened it on either side, caressing him
as I did so, and I was glad to see that he did not show
any wickedness further than putting his ears back.

I now mounted him, and gave orders to the Turks to
pick the walls down, and clear away the sand, which was
soon done. It was an anxious moment, but at last he
was free, and like an antelope cleared the cttbris of his
stable, and scoured across the plain amid the shouts of
the French soldiers and the ejaculations of the Turks.
Once firmly seated on his back I felt at home in the
matter ; he tried a few times to unseat me by rearing
plunging and buck-jumping, but finding that he only
drew punishment upon himself, for I gave him the spur
besides applying the foil to his flank when he did not
obey, he gave up the contest, and I felt that I had
obtained the mastery over him."

That Major Leveson's military services were appreci-
ated by the Turkish Government is evident from the
following letter addressed by Osman Pasha to Lord
Stratford de Redcliffe :

"MY LORD,—

I have the honour to bring to your notice
Major H. A. Leveson, of the Indian Army, who has
served with the Ottoman forces since their first landing

520 Htin08 of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, an& <3un

in the Crimea, and who has on all and every occasion
exhibited great zeal and ability in the performance of
his duties, and in maintaining the discipline of the
division to which he is attached. He was present at the
battle of Inkerman, where he was the first to retake a
French 1 2-lb. brass howitzer, which had been taken by
the enemy on all its horses being killed. I consider him
to be an active intelligent and meritorious officer, and
of great experience, derived from former Indian cam-
paigns, and have thought fit to advise your Lordship of
this, as it was through your instrumentality that his
services were rendered available to the Ottoman Govern-
ment, and placed at the disposal of H.H. the Seraskier, to
whom I have written, recommending that they should
be employed on a more extensive scale, as I am con-
vinced that he will do credit to whatever situation he
may be placed in.

I am, my Lord, etc., etc.,
(Signed) OSMAN PASHA,

Commander-in-Chief Ottoman Troops"

Sir William Codrington, too, strongly recommended
Major Leveson to the Secretary for War as deserving of
some substantial recognition of his services. But, like
many a better man, " the Old Shekarry " had to be
content with the Turkish war medal with three clasps
and the British war medal with clasp for Sebastopol.
He might, however, have found permanent employment
in the Turkish Army had he been so minded. But he
loathed the service, and thus expressed his contempt
for it :

lbcnr\? Bstburg Xev>eson 5*'

" From what I have seen of the Turkish service, I do
not like it, and shall quit it as soon as the campaign is
over. I believe, as a body, they are the most detestable
race of people under the sun, and I think that their
kingdom will soon pass away into other hands." And
speaking of the battle of Balaclava, he says that the
Turks who held the redoubts on that occasion "all
behaved in an infamous manner, and bolted without
hardly firing a shot, leaving the guns to the Bears. The
lieutenant-colonel in command was the first to run. He
mounted his horse on the approach of the Russians, and
told his men to save themselves as best they could."
Major Leveson, however, was fully aware of the many
merits of the Turkish private soldiers, for in another
letter he remarks : " I know that the men are good
soldiers if properly led, and that they will follow me, as
they have ten times more confidence in us [English
officers] than in their own officers."

After the fall of Sebastopol, in September, 1855,
Major Leveson returned to England, and finding it
useless to keep on knocking at preferment's door,
turned his attention once more to sport, and for the
next four years he was shooting chamois in the
Bavarian and Italian Alps, wild-fowl on the French
rivers and marshes, wild boar and deer in the German
forests, ibex among the Caucasian passes, antelopes on
the plains of Asia Minor, nylghaus in Thibet, tigers
and leopards in the jungles of Wynaad and Nirmohle.
His adventures during this period he gave to the world
in one of the most spirited and exciting of his books,
" Hunting Grounds of the Old World."

522 ffcfnas of tbe TCob, IRifle, ant> (Bun

In 1860 the Revolution in Italy gave this restless
adventurer another chance of gaining distinction as a
soldier of fortune. He joined Garibaldi, and was with
the red-shirted patriots when they made their victorious
entry into Naples. Garibaldi took a liking to the
dashing Englishman who was such a glutton for
righting, and more than once expressed his admiration
for the cool courage and keen military instincts of
"the Old Shekarry."

Our ubiquitous hero next turns up in Africa just
after the annexation of Lagos to the British Crown
by Commander Beddingfield, of H.M.S. Prometheus.
" Freeman," writes Major Leveson, " was appointed
Governor as well as Consul of the Bights of Benin
and Biafra ; and a few months later I was appointed
Colonial Secretary and Lieutenant-Governor."

The climate he describes as the deadliest in the
world. The officials died off like flies. The two
consuls, the Governor, the chief magistrate and another
law officer, the commandant of the garrison, all died
within four months of their arrival. One hundred and
fifty out of two hundred of the West Indian Regiment
who formed the garrison either died or were hopelessly
invalided. Only sixteen men of the crew of the Pro-
metheus were fit for duty at the close of that period ; the
rest were either dead or helpless in hospital. Even
Leveson's iron constitution succumbed, and after twice
coming back to England sick and twice returning to
his duties, he was finally invalided home under circum-
stances which he thus narrates :

"In a very smart skirmish which took place in

fbenn? Hstburp Xev>eson 523

February, 1863, at Epe, a large village about thirty
miles from Lagos, on the Lagoon, in order to save
three officers of the navy and a boat's crew from
being cut off from the shore, by overwhelming numbers
of armed natives, I found it necessary to make a flank
attack on the main body of about 1,200 men, com-
manded by the refractory chief Possoo. There was a
good deal of thick bush, and I was enabled to approach
undiscovered, when my Haussas, who were only forty
in number, gave them a volley, taking them by surprise,
and causing a panic, which was immediately followed
by a stampedo. As they could not understand an
attack on the flank and rear, they broke and scattered
in all directions, when a good deal of desultory skirmish-
ing took place, during which I received a very severe
gunshot wound under the right ear. At the sight of
my being hit the Haussas gave a fiendish yell, and,
roused almost to frenzy, rushed on the enemy with
their machetes (a kind of cutlass), taking two small
iron cannon, mounted on blocks of wood. I noticed
the fellow who hit me stealing away through the bush,
and brought him to the ground with a bullet through
the back from my breech-loading carbine which had
done good work that morning, and in another moment
his head was hacked off, and stuck as a fetish on a
branch of a tree. My object being attained, and the
enemy being in full flight, I rejoined Commander Le
Froy, who assisted me in the boat, for I was faint
from loss of blood, and took me off to the steamer,
' Investigator,' which was throwing shells into the town.
I was found to be very dangerously wounded, for an

524 "feints of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, ant) (Bun

iron plug had entered the head just below the right
ear, passing through the carotid gland, within the
sixteenth of an inch from the carotid artery, fractured
the lower jaw, shattered the roots of the teeth, and still
remains in the neck, from whence the first surgeons of
Europe, Sir William Fergusson, and Dr. Nelaton, of
Paris, dare not venture to extract it.

Under the able care of the Colonial-Surgeon, Dr.
Eales, R.N., and Elliott, I was kept alive by suction
upon old port-wine until I arrived in England, when,
after a very severe operation, performed by Sir William
Fergusson — the first surgeon in Europe, whose coolness
is only exceeded by his skill — I was again enabled to
eat, although for the future mastication is out of the
question, and I shall never be free from severe aching
pain at every change of weather. The Legislative
Council of Lagos voted me £1,000 for the service I
had rendered, and His Grace the Duke of Newcastle
gave me nine months' leave on sick certificate (half-
pay) ; but his successor, Mr. Cardwell, superseded me,
and the Government, with their usual generosity, gave
me nix, notwithstanding the whole affair was brought to
the notice of Parliament by Sir Francis Baring, and great
credit was given to me by the Governor, and Commander-
in-Chief, and the Duke of Newcastle. Unfortunately,
that credit will not pay doctors' bills and compensate
for years of intense agony. I only wish Mr. Cardwell,
then the head of the office, had a similar dose at the
same 'fair remuneration! It might lead to the adoption
of some salutary changes in the administration of the
Colonial Office, which would benefit future employes?

1benn? Hstburs Xeveson 5*5

Before his final return to England, however, " the
Old Shekarry " had made an expedition into the Niger
country in search of the terrible gorillas about which
Du Chaillu's book had set all the world agog. Leveson
found, indeed, that the gorilla existed and was as big as
Du Chaillu had described. But the mighty hunter who
had achieved many a victory over elephant and lion,
tiger and bear, smiled at the ludicrously exaggerated
perils of gorilla-hunting. " Doubtless," he observes, " a
man that had never seen any game larger than a rabbit
might feel a little nervous in facing his first gorilla, an
animal which I found to be as hard to stalk as a red-
deer, and as little to be dreaded by any one having a
loaded gun in his hands." Many a deer-stalker has had
more trouble in securing his quarry than "the Old
Shekarry " took in the following affair :

" Selecting the footprint that appeared the largest,
I was following it up, when I heard a low hoarse
barking, which M'pongola declared was the usual noise
made by the N'gina v/hen feeding, and creeping gently
through the bushes for a short distance, I heard the
breaking of branches a short distance in front, which
was followed by a succession of low grunts, now and
then interrupted by a snappish yelp, like the barking of
a cur. Making signs to the people to lie down, I crept
forward, and soon, to my intense delight saw three
gorillas upon a wild jungle fruit-tree looking like a haw-
berry. One was standing on his hind legs, with his
head stretched in my direction, as if listening for some
sound that had attracted his attention, and as he was
not more than eighty yards distant, I raised my rifle

526 irtnas of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anfc Gun

and fired ; but just as I pulled trigger he turned
round, and had he not uttered a moaning kind of yell
denoting pain, I should have been afraid that I had
missed him. In the twinkling of an eye they were off
and although I fired a snap-shot at one of them as I saw
its head rise above the brushwood, and heard the ' thud '
of the bullet as it struck him somewhere in the back,
they got over the ground much faster than I could
follow. On going up to the places where they were
standing when 1 fired, I found two distinct tracks
stained with drops of blood ; and the wound of the
one I first hit must have been very severe, as, besides
large gouts of blood here and there, the ground was
marked with bloody saliva. My people then came up,
and one of the villagers informed me that there was a
large prairie on the other side of this belt of forest so I
determined to try and beat them out. Going back
to the place where I left the rest of the people, I ordered
them to commence beating the wood as soon as they
were rejoined by Tom Dick, whom I took with me :
then skirting the edge of the cover, I took post behind
a bush on a rising in the prairie beyond, from whence
any animal that broke into the open could be seen. I
then sent the Krooman back, and told him to tell the
people to make all the noise they could, and fire their
guns so as to start any animal that might be in the
cover ; and in less than half an hour there was a row
as if Pandemonium had broken loose. First two n'cheri
antelopes came bounding into the plain, then two
sounders of hog trotted past me with their snouts in the
air, and afterwards three gorillas went shuffling over the

tbcun? Bstburv? Xcv>eson 527

prairies on all fours. They were out of range, and I
was just about to try and cut them off by running, when
a fourth came out of the bush, and I could see he was
the one I had wounded by his limping gait, besides
every few paces he would fall down. As soon as he was
well clear of the cover, I ran towards him, and got
within twenty yards, when he again fell, and I could see
that besides being wounded in the belly, his thigh was
broken, and he had great difficulty in dragging himself
along. He rose up on my approach, but instead of
4 beating his breast and showing fight,' he moaned most
piteously, and tried to drag himself back into the bush
he had just left, when I shot him through the heart, and
giving two or three gasps he rolled over dead. Whilst
I was thus engaged I heard three shots in the bush, and
shortly afterwards the villagers came out with the dead
carcass of a young female, the head of which they had
almost blown to pieces. The one I killed proved to be
an old male, although not a large one."

" The Old Shekarry's " adventures with big game
bear so much resemblance to those which I have
given in my chapters on Gordon Gumming, Oswell, and
Sir Samuel Baker, that I will not trouble the reader with
any except the following, which was certainly a remark-
able one. Leveson was out in pursuit of rogue elephants
in company with a friend, Lieutenant Wedderburn, one
of the best shots in India. Wedderburn came up with
a big " rogue," and brought him to the ground with two
bullets in the forehead. The mortal spot in an elephant
is in the centre of the hollow of the forehead ; but the
greatest accuracy of aim is required ; one inch to the

528 ifcinss of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anb Gun

right or the left makes all the difference. To make certain,
Wedderburn gave his elephant a third shot in the head,
which, as he imagined, killed him. He was not dead,
however, and regaining his feet, charged on his
antagonist.

" At this moment," says Leveson, " Wedderburn either
lost his presence of mind and fired without any aim, or
finding that the mortal place in the centre of the fore-
head was hidden by the upraised trunk, must have
endeavoured to bring him down by a side shot, but his
fourth bullet produced no effect, and in the twinkling of
an eye, before he could get out of the way, the infuriated
animal was upon him, twisted his trunk round his legs
and hurled him to the ground."

Of course he was trampled to death in an instant ;
but by a remarkable coincidence " the Old Shekarry "
fell in with the same elephant about eight hours later.
He, too, was charged, and nothing but his wonderful
skill and nerve saved him from a similar fate.

"Scarcely had the attendant mounted than I knew
he was discovered by the hoarse appalling scream of
rage that rang through the air, sounding as if close
at hand ; and barely had he time to reach the ground
and catch hold of the spare guns, than the infuriated
monster burst through a patch of high reeds in our rear,
that had hitherto concealed him from our sight, and
charged splashing up towards us. When I first caught
a glimpse of him, he was certainly not more than five
and thirty paces distant, and I immediately raised my
trusty rifle ; but life and death were on the shot, and
it did not belch forth its deadly contents until he had

tbcnrv? Hstbun? Xevcson 529

charged up to within fifteen paces, when I let him
have it, aiming full at the centre of the hollow, just
over the trunk. The ragged bullet flew true to its
mark, burying itself in the brain ; but the impetus of
his headlong charge carried him on, and with a mighty
splash that might have been heard at a quarter of a
mile's distance, he fell with his outstretched trunk close
to my feet, covering us with mud from head to foot."

Too near to be pleasant, most people will say. On
examination of the dead elephant " the Old Shekarry "
discovered three other recent wounds almost in the same
place where his own bullet had struck, one being within
an inch of his own shot, from which death was
instantaneous, and the other two in the most vital part
of the skull. On his attempting to probe these wounds
he discovered that they were plugged up with red clay,
which he conceives was done by the elephant himself
to stop the haemorrhage. When this was cleared out
he found that, though these three bullets had all struck
the vital spot, not one had been delivered at the proper
angle so as to penetrate the brain. Afterwards his
men extracted the bullets, and he was surprised to
recognise among them two that to his certain know-
ledge must have belonged to Lieutenant Wedderburn.
It was only later that he learned he was the avenger
of his friend's death.

Notwithstanding the disheartening experiences I have
already recorded, " the Old Shekarry " was not deterred
from again offering his services to the Government.
He volunteered to go single-handed to the court of
Theodore of Abyssinia and negotiate for the release

VOL. II. 13

530 iktnas of tbe 1Rot>, IRtfle, anb (Bun

of Captain Cameron and the other British captives at
Magdala. It was a Quixotic idea, and the Government,
unable to see that it could have any result but the addi-
tion of another prisoner to those already in Theodore's
hands, declined the offer. Leveson, however, as usual,
managed to have a hand in the fighting, and accompanied
Sir Robert Napier's expedition to Magdala, though in
what capacity I have nowhere seen specified.

A year later, when the country was agitated with
anxiety for the fate of David Livingstone, Major
Leveson, though weakened by wounds and hardships
and disease, wrote to Earl Granville and offered to go
out and find the missing traveller. Lord Granville
referred him, with a strong letter of recommendation,
to the Royal Geographical Society ; but that sober
body were not impressed with Leveson's fitness for
the task, and declined to sanction the proposed
expedition.

This was "the Old Shekarry's " last attempt to,
render public service. Yet, despite his rebuffs, he
would, I have no doubt, have been as ready as ever to
lead any forlorn hope had a chance presented itself. For
he had the spirit of a Paladin, and would have been
a worthy member of Arthur's " Table Round " in
days when —

Every morning brought a noble chance,

And every chance brought out a noble knight.

His health, too, began to fail. The iron frame which
had endured so many hardships was worn out by
toil and suffering ; the nerves of steel which had faced

Hstburv Xev>e0on 531

so many perils were unstrung ; the unerring eye which
had never missed its aim was growing dim. He never
really enjoyed a day's good health after his return
from Abyssinia. The bullet in his jaw-bone perpetually
worried and troubled him ; the wound was for ever
breaking out afresh, the constant haemorrhage weakened
him, and he suffered terribly from insomnia. All
through the year 1875 it was plain to those who saw
him that he was gradually sinking, and when at length,
on July 1 8th, he drew his last breath at Brighton, his
friends were glad that the prolonged and hopeless
agony, so bravely borne, was over. He was only forty-
seven when he died, but few men have crowded into
that short space so much soldiering, sport, and ad-
venture as had fallen to the lot of "the Old
Shekarry."

Alexander Russel

Editor of "The Scotsman "

I REMEMBER, as if it were but yesterday, the shock
with which the news " Russel of The Scotsman is
dead" came four-and-twenty years ago to every
journalist in London. For even down here in the
South his name was famous as that of a very King
among journalists. But in Scotland "Russel of Tlie
Scotsman " was something far more than a great editor.
He was the greatest Scottish force of his generation,
greater even than Norman Macleod or Thomas Guthrie,
because he appealed to the Scottish head as well as
to the Scottish heart, and was recognised as the supreme
representative of lay independence and common sense
in a country which had been long under bondage to
clerical tyranny and theological dogma.

Then he was a humorist and a sportsman of the
first class, and there was something inexpressibly re-
freshing and inspiriting about his big, breezy, healthy,
manly nature. Coarse, some folk, especially the " unco'
guid," called him, and I will admit that there was
sometimes a Swiftian savagery in his satire, and a
Rabelaisian broadness in his wit. But these were only

532

RUSSEL OF 'THE SCOTSMAN.'"

Hlejanfcer IRusscl 533

the natural overflow of a brimming reservoir of virility.
In his robust contempt for clerical cant and puritanic
prudery he now and then loved to shock the prejudices
of formal pietists with a dash of audacious irreverence
which burst like a shell amongst them. Yet, for the
most part, even his political and religious enemies
admitted that if he hit hard he hit fairly — there were
no blows below the belt. He was a manly, straight-
forward fighter, and his great gift of humour, whilst it
often lent a sting to his invective, supplied at the same
time a balm which half healed the wound it inflicted.

But great as Alexander Russel was as a journalist,
there were some who thought him even greater as an
angler, and maintained that no one who had not met
" Russel of The Scotsman " amongst his convivial com-
rades of the Edinburgh Angling Club, in those jovial
symposia at "The Nest," knew the real man or could
form any conception of his racy and glorious humour.
It is as a " King of the Rod " that he claims a place
in these pages, and without further generalising I shall
proceed to particularise ; though in proving his right
to figure among the illustrious " brothers of the angle "
I must necessarily touch upon other sides of his
character and other phases of his life, for it is the
man as well as the angler that I wish to present to
the reader.

Alexander Russel was born in Edinburgh on
December loth, 1814. His father was a solicitor, his
mother the daughter of John Somerville, Clerk of the
Jury Court. On both sides of his parentage, then, the
lad was closely connected with "old father Antic,

534 ftfnas of tbe 1Rofc, IRtfle, anfc 6un

the Law," and possibly Russel pere may have intended
his son for the legal profession, but he died whilst the
lad was yet a child, and the widow, in reduced circum-
stances, was glad of the opportunity of apprenticing
Alec to a printer. The boy's father, however, had lived
long enough to imbue his son with a deep love of
country scenes and sports, and above all with a strong
passion for angling. For the elder Russel was an
accomplished fisherman. Thus "Sandy" was intro-
duced in his childhood to the mysteries of the " gentle
craft," became familiar with the charming waters of
St. Mary's Loch, and had sat at the feet of the " Ettrick
Shepherd" as the poet talked of "fush" and " fushin'"
over his toddy. As he grew older he set out on fishing
expeditions up among the Pentlands, on the banks of
the Almond and the waters of Leith, where the streams,
now an eye-sorrow to anglers, ran pure, and full of
trout. These were in the days when he was yet a
schoolboy at the Classical Academy of the Rev. Ross
Kennedy in St. James's Square. Then came his
apprenticeship to the printer, which was brightened
by the comradeship of his fellow-apprentice John
Johnstone, afterwards editor of The Inverness Courier.
Johnstone was destined, through his wife, to have a
considerable influence over Russel's future career, for
that lady had a large share in Tail's Magazine, the
pages of which were thus thrown open to young
Alexander's literary contributions.

In the year 1839, when he was four-and-twenty,
Alexander Russel had his first experience as an editor
on T/ie Berwick Advertiser. His salary was £70 a

aiejaufccr TRussel 535

year. " For this," wrote the proprietor, " I will expect
you to devote a portion of each day, less or more,
to the reading of newspapers, selecting and abridging
from them Parliamentary reports and other news. New
publications and the literary periodicals must have your
notice. And you will also have to write political
articles and a summary of news such as we have
hitherto had. On the occurrence of an election or
any great meeting I will require your aid in reporting.
And, lastly, the attacks of our political adversary
will be expected to produce your retort."

The proprietor will no doubt appear to the modern
journalist to have wanted a good deal for his money.
But no budding editor sixty years ago would have
turned up his nose at thirty shillings a week. For
if the pay were poor, the responsibility was glorious ;
and to a young man with any fighting spirit in him
the vista opened by that last delicious clause must
have been singularly inviting. If the work were hard,
it was sweetened by the knowledge that close by rolled
the Tweed, the bonnie Tweed, the stream which beyond
all streams the Northern angler loves ; and it was at
Berwick that Alexander Russel, rod in hand, gained
his first knowledge of the river of which he came to
know every bend and pool better than any other man
living.

Moreover, despite the demands which his editorial
duties made on his time, young Russel found leisure for
reading as well as sport. It was then that he gained
that intimate knowledge of Swift, Pope, Dryden, Gold-
smith, and Thomson, which supplied him with so many

ss6 ifctnss of tbe tRofc, IRifle, ant) (Bun

an apt quotation in later days. It was at Berwick, too,
that he made the acquaintance of David Robertson, of
Lady Kirk, afterwards Lord Marjoribanks, who initiated
him into Northumbrian politics and whetted his appetite
for the fierce joys of party strife.

In 1842 Russel left Berwick for Cupar, where, at a
much higher salary, he took the editorship of The Fife
Herald. Two years later he moved to Kilmarnock to
start a new journal, The Kilmarnock Chronicle, which
he edited with such conspicuous ability that John
Ritchie, one of the founders of The Scotsman, impressed
by some of the young editor's articles in favour of
the Anti-Corn Law movement, invited him to take a
post as assistant editor on the famous Edinburgh journal.
The Scotsman was then but a small print, issued twice
a week, but its influence was already felt in Scottish
politics, and Russel realised that to be connected with it
was a great rise in his professional career.

The then editor was Charles Maclaren, a typical, hard-
headed, logical, argumentative Scot, without a scrap of
humour in him, the very antipodes in that respect of his
young coadjutor, whose constant flashes of humour
astonished his senior. " That young man," he said,
pointing to Russel, " can joke on everything. Now for
my part I can joke, but I joke wi' deeficulty." Russel
was without exception the greatest Scottish humorist of
his own or perhaps of any time, for Scotland has never
been rich in humorists, and the mere fact that Scotchmen
roared over the boisterous, noisy, schoolboy buffoonery
which disfigures the " Noctes " is sufficient proof of how
little appreciation of true humour there was in the Scot

Hlejaufcer Kneed 537

of that day. Christopher North's idea of the humorous is
mere literary horseplay. The genuine Scottish humour
— for I do not for a moment deny to my Caledonian
brother the gift of humour — that dry, pawky sort of which
Dean Ramsay gives so many admirable examples in his
" Reminiscences," with its fine, national distinctive flavour,
has rarely found its way into Scottish literature. You
will find it indeed (as what is there you will not find ?)
in some of the Waverley Novels ; it irradiates the delight-
ful books of the author of" Rab and His Friends "; and
to its presence " A Window in Thrums " and " The
Little Minister " owe much of their subtle charm. But,
except unconsciously, few Scottish writers have been
humorists, and among those few Alexander Russel
takes a foremost place. The gift was a revelation to
his countrymen ; they hardly knew what to make of it at
first, and indeed to the very last there were always many
worthy persons who were blind to Russel's humour and
read his brilliant articles with puzzled minds, uncertain
whether he were in jest or earnest. But the fact that
the racy humour of " Russel of The Scotsman " was
thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated by thousands of his
fellow-countrymen, and was one of the main factors in
his popularity, disposes for ever of the cheap sneers
against Scottish lack of humour founded on Sydney
Smith's time-worn sarcasm.

But those who only knew Russcl's humour from his
writings could form but a faint conception of its
inexhaustible richness. As a raconteur he had hardly
an equal and certainly no superior. Once only had I
the pleasure of hearing him "laugh and shake in

538 ifcinas of tbe 1Rofc, TCtfle, an& (Bun

Rabelais' easy-chair," but I have never forgotten the
absolute abandonment, the indescribable boyish glee
with which he let himself go and poured out story after
story, joke after joke, till his hearers "would echo helpless
laughter to his jest." Some idea of what his conversa-
tional powers were may be gathered from the following
vivid summary given by Mr. H. G. Graham, in his
admirable article on Russel in Eraser's Magazine :

" Every great conversationalist has his limited store
of anecdotes which have seen an enormous deal of
dinner service. One naturally compassionates the wives
and offspring who have to listen to the same jokes with
the same air of perennial surprise. With Russel, on
the other hand, the effort was, not to evade, but to get
the anecdotes. ' Tell us that story again,' people would
ask, and certainly they never asked in vain ; and after
all what faint recollections remain of his talk, so vivid,
so bright, so intelligent, so ready, so witty — only a
few anecdotes with the ludicrous touches gone, only a few
meagre jokes with the rich mellow flavour away. At
dinner topic after topic came and went ; a new book,
a new measure, politics, ecclesiastics, society, are
all discussed, brightened by some fresh thought, or
illustrated by some quaint story, each guest being
with kindly tact brought into the tide of talk, as
the host chatted and sipped his grog, — he having
persuaded himself firmly that the doctors ordered him
to take whisky on the precarious ground that they
had ordered him not to take wine. One remembers
vaguely how the conversation went. He may be
speaking of the difficulty of conciliating those whom he

TCussel 539

has ridiculed in his paper, for those who have little
dignity to spare cannot forgive the loss of it ; and he
mentions how Mr. Lowe one day wisely remarked, ' You
can't unpull a man's nose.' The talk turns on Lord
Melbourne, and he describes the interview between
the easy peer who was shaving and the secretary to the
Lord Advocate, when the latter brings before him
the draft of some Bill. ' Well, Mr. M., this is another of
your demned Scotch jobs, I presume ? ' ' Just so, my
lord ; so, having settled the preamble, we will now
proceed to the clauses.' Strong-minded women are
spoken of, and a lady remarks that one noted female
emancipationist of masculine appearance, is much more of
a lady than one who had, the day before, sharply criticised
her. 'Well, she is much more of a gentleman, at any
rate, my dear,' consolingly conceded the editor, with
quiet sarcasm. Speaking of self-educated men, he
mentions a remark by Emerson, when someone spoke of
Abraham Lincoln as ' a self-made man,' the philosopher
quietly said, as he thought of that ill-made figure, * that
saves Providence then a great deal of responsibility.'
The Ballot question suggests the case of a farmer, who
said to his landlord, in disgust at the new Act : ' Afore,
everybody kent that I voted for your lordship, but noo
the waurst o't is, if I gang to the poll, folk micht think
I was voting according to my conscience.' The editor
relates his experience of the Irish. He recalls instances
of their bulls, as, for instance, the entry he found in the
inn-album, by a Colonel : * I stopped here by mere
chance, and would advise every person to do the same.'
He recalls their inveterate desire of money — if gained

540 ikfngs of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anb <3un

without any labour : the boatmen in Killarney having
coolly and objurgatively affirmed an object in the
distance to be a ' rale Irish eagle,' while Russel's com-
panion in travel denied it. 'In that case/ replied his
friend, * we'll soon know — if it's an Irish eagle, it will
pounce on the company and ask sixpence for showing
itself The clergy are brought in for some chaff, and he
mentions how Kinglake in his drawling tones remarked
that he ' thought the clergy could be indicted under the
common law against fortune-telling.' ' As far as my
experience goes,' remarks a guest, ' it is rather mis-
fortune-telling.' Somehow the talk passes on to the
humbug of servants' registers, the keeping of which,
he protests, is the easiest profession in the world, and
requiring the most limited of capital — for it only needs a
pen, a sheet of paper, and a bottle of ink. The name of
Charles Maclaren makes him tell how, at a large party
the grave and respectable appearance of that gentleman
suggested that he should be asked to say grace. In
deep agitation he rose, and in confusion he began,
and made one or two bewildered efforts to say it. At
last, looking round the company in abject despair and
anguish, the unfortunate victim to respectability ex-
claimed, ' Ladies and gentlemen, my memory has clean
gone to the deevil.' ' Why, your hair is getting grey,'
says Russel to a friend. ' Yes, but there's plenty of it,
at least,' looking at the editor's head, a Sahara of bald-
ness. ' Oh, yes,' added he, ' you see mine preferred
death to dishonour.'

. . . Those very proper and pious persons who met him
first with the notion that he was 'that dreadful Mr.

TRussel 541

Russel,' went away with the impression that he was *a
most charming man.' Old ladies without an idea
behind their ringlets, old gentlemen without a thought
beyond their denomination or their crops, sat and
listened, worthy souls ! as the editor poured out stories
and made jokes, while they were themselves afraid to
smile in case what he said was meant to be serious, and
were afraid to look solemn in case he had meant to
be funny, and therefore preserved an expression of
wonderful mental and facial perplexity."

And yet, brilliant conversationalist as he was, Russel
loathed and hated public speaking. He must, I imagine,
in his time have taken part in public meetings — he could
hardly have escaped doing so — but no speech of his, as
far as I am aware, has ever been recorded. All his
fluency and confidence deserted him at the prospect of
facing an audience in public. He was, I suppose,
conscious that he had no oratorical gifts ; he knew the
limits of his own powers. When he was invited in 1872
to stand as one of the candidates for the Lord Rector-
ship of Aberdeen he declined the honour, because it
would have entailed the necessity of delivering an
address, and he would rather have died than do that.

It was in 1855, when the paper duty was removed and
The Scotsman suddenly burst out as a daily penny paper,
that Russel's influence reached its zenith. In its previous
form, as a journal issued twice a week, The Scotsman
had, under Russel's editorship, which began nominally
in 1848, though it had existed really from the time
he joined the paper in 1845, risen to what was then
considered the remarkable circulation of 4,000 for each

542 ifcfngs of tfoe 1Rofc, TCffle, anb Gun

issue. Already the young editor had made his mark and
stamped his own individuality indelibly on his journal.
But when the reduction in price and the improved
methods of distribution placed The Scotsman within the
reach of all classes, the circulation rose by leaps and
bounds till it attained the then phenomenal figure of
60,000 copies per diem. And over this immense clientele
Russel exercised the sway of a magician. " What has
Sandy Russel got to say this morning ? " " Mon ! hae ye
read Russel in to-day's Scotsman ? " were the remarks
interchanged every day among Scots all over Scotland.
If you saw two douce citizens chuckling together in the
streets, if you heard a roar of laughter in a railway-
carriage, you might be sure that it was the last racy thing
of " Russel o' The Scotsman " that was the subject of
the chuckle and the laugh. For nearly thirty years
Alexander Russel wielded an influence over political
and public affairs in Scotland the like to which no man
before or since has ever exercised. He made enemies,
of course ; the " unco' guid " could never forgive him for
the " blue thread " of irreverence which sometimes ran
through his slashing attacks on their strongholds of
humbug and cant. They shook their heads in horror,
and spoke of him with bated breath as a "godless
loon."

His own religious views were probably those of the
first Lord Shaftesbury, as indicated in the following
anecdote given by John Toland two hundred years ago,
and since plagiarised by Lord Beaconsfield :

" This puts one in mind of what I was told by a near
relation of the old Lord Shaftesbury. The latter

Hlejanfcer IRussel 543

conferring one day with Major Wildman about the many
sects of religion in the world, they came to this con-
clusion at last : that notwithstanding these infinite
divisions caused by the interests of the priests and the
ignorance of the people, all wise men are of the same
religion ; whereupon a lady in the room, who seemed to
mind her needle more than their discourse, demanded
with some concern what that religion was ? To which
the Lord Shaftesbury strait replied, ' Madam, wise men
never tell!"

Now and then his hammer-handed hitting at
political opponents brought him within the grasp
of the law of libel, as in the case of Duncan Maclaren,
M.P., when the jury awarded the pursuer £400 damages.
But the public were evidently not of the same opinion
as the jury, for they subscribed £1,200 and presented
it to The Scotsman to repay the costs and damages.
In another instance Russel, when threatened with a
libel action for describing a worthy M.P., whose
arithmetical ability was extraordinary, as a " snake,"
qualified his original assertion by remarking, " if he is
not a snake, no one can deny at least that he is a
remarkable adder"

Of the many distinguished men who were proud to
call themselves the friends of " Russel of Tlie Scotsman "
and who never failed to visit him when they were in
Edinburgh, Mr. Graham, whom I have already quoted,
gives the following graphic sketch :

" What a number and variety of faces had appeared
round his table in Ramsay Gardens in old days, at
Chester Street in later years, who talked and laughed

544 1fcfn0s of tfoe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc (Bun

their best ! Thackeray, up in Edinburgh lecturing on
' The Georges ' (when Aytoun bid him ' stick to the
Jeamses'), came and was not even cynical ; James
Hannay, clever and conceited, would tell his most
piquant stories and prove his claims to a dormant
peerage (which his host remarked 'it would be more
to the point if he could prove a dormant half-crown ')
and then roll off with more than his usual sailor's gait
to the ' Courant ' office to write a spiteful article on the
editor of * The Scotsman ' ; Mr. Grant Duff would come,
fresh from some Elgin oration, and with some fresh
schemes on European policy ; Dr. Robert Lee, of Old
Grey Friars, cleverest of ecclesiastics, most liberal of
Churchmen, ablest of debaters, would often turn up,
his fine intellectual face looking so sharp as he uttered
his iced sarcasms at his ' pre-posterous ' brethren in
the Church, or as he delicately cut up some 'pious
goose' of a minister who was stirring charges against
him of heresy ; Captain Burton even appeared in the
course of going to and fro on the earth, and would
tell some risky tales and utter some wild opinions on
polygamy, and leave the impression, as ladies hurriedly
left him, that he had, on emergency, fed on — and rather
enjoyed— a fellow creature ; Fitzjames Stephen would
appear, not the least fatigued by his defeat at Dundee,
having proved too good for the place, and very thankful
for his new friend's powerful support ; George Combe
and Hill Burton of course were old frequent guests ;
and Lord Neaves, too, although of a different political
faith, who would send upstairs for the presentation copy
of his ' Songs,' which he knew was in the house, and

Hlcjaufccr TCussel 545

give the company the benefit of his own musical
interpretations, already very familiar to some of them.
Now there came the Liberal whip to talk over political
prospects, and get counsel about a new movement ;
and now local magnates dined who could tell the
chances of the next Edinburgh contest, or the new
water scheme of the Provost ; now it was Professor
Huxley, so fresh, so unalarming, that as a clergyman
finishes saying grace at dinner, Russel exclaims, ' Halloa,
was that you saying grace, Professor ? ' ' No,' replies
he, meekly and blandly, * I trust I know my place in
nature.' Russel's house was the meeting place of all
sorts and conditions of men — certainly not excluding
clergy : dissenting ministers, narrow in doctrine and
Radical in politics, holding protection in religion,
and free- trade in corn ; Broad Church clergy, whom
he regarded as rational beings ; worthy old moderate
divines who were admirable at table, and sadly dull in
the pulpit, who preached the driest of sermons, and
gave the driest of sherry — who, in fact, from the good
wine and bad discourses they gave, as Lord Robertson
of facetious memory said, ' were much better in bottle
than in wood.' "

It was one of Russel's great ambitions to see
Edinburgh always represented in Parliament by a
man of real distinction. He was furious when
Macaulay was rejected by " Auld Reekie" in 1847,
and strove tooth and nail to secure his re-election in
1852. When the seat was vacant in 1868 he wrote
to Charles Dickens and begged him to become their
candidate. Dickens in reply said : " My conviction that

VOL. II. 14

546 ikings of tbe 1Rofc, IRtfle, ant> Gun

I am more useful and happy as I am than I would
be in Parliament is not to be shaken. There is no man
in Scotland from whom I would consider the suggestion
a greater honour."

But amid all the whirl of politics and all the
multiform responsibilities of an editor, Russel never
lost his love of sport. He was ever the enthusiastic
angler, and his knowledge not only of the art of
salmon- and trout-fishing but of the habits of the fish
made him an acknowledged authority on everything
pertaining to angling and pisciculture. On several
occasions he was examined as an expert before
Committees of both Houses of Parliament, sitting to
report upon the Salmon Fisheries. He contributed
articles on salmon-fishing to both the Quarterly
and Edinburgh Reviews^ and these were subsequently
collected and published in his great work on "The
Salmon," which holds a high place in angling
literature.

The introductory chapter on the pleasures of salmon-
fishing, with his defence of the sport against those who
brand it as cruel, is an admirable specimen of Russel in
his playful and humorous mood. Take, for example,
the following passage :

" Salmon-fishing is indeed a passion, perhaps un-
accountable as to its origin, but certainly irrepressible
in an ever increasing proportion of the people ; while in
individuals the appetite, once implanted, almost in-
variably grows rapidly till the end on the very little
indeed that now-a-days it has to feed upon. It is
strange to think of the exceeding desperateness of the

Hlcjanfccr IRusscl 547

chances of success which suffice to tempt men away
from their business and their families to some of our
salmon-streams, yet those who have most often felt
and seen the hopelessness of the undertaking, are just
those who are most eager to try it again. Look at that
otherwise sensible and respectable person, standing mid-
way in the gelid Tweed (it is early spring or latest
autumn, the only seasons when there is now much
chance), his shoulders aching, his teeth chattering, his
coat tails afloat, and his basket empty. A few hours
ago probably he left a comfortable home, pressing
business, waiting clients, and a dinner engagement. On
arriving at his ' water,' the keeper, as the tone of
keepers now is, despondingly informed him that there
is ' nae head [shoal] o' fish/ although at the utmost
there may be a happenin' beast, or, as we have heard
it expressed with that tendency to a mixture of
Latinisms with the Border patois, which is to be
ascribed, we suppose, to the influence of parochial
schools, ' There's aiblins a traunsient brute.' But in
his eagerness and ignorance he knows better than the
keeper ; and there he is at it still, in his seventh hour.
The wind is in his eye, the water is in his boots, but
Hope, the charmer, lingers in his heart. . . .

It has been maintained, though perhaps not in cool
print, by men of sense and sobriety — men not ignorant
of any of the delights to which flesh has served itself
heir, that the thrill of joy, fear and surprise (nowadays
surprise is the predominating emotion) induced by the
first tug of a salmon, is the most exquisite sensation of
which this mortal frame is susceptible — whether he come

548 ikfngs ot tbe 1Rot>, IRtfle, ant> (Sun

as the summer grilse, with a splash and a flash ; or like
a new-run but more sober-minded adult, with a dignified
and determined dive ; or like a brown-coated old in-
habitant, with a long pull and a strong pull low down
in the depths. Without discussing this point in all its
aspects, moral and physiological, it is enough that for
a very small chance of attaining the salmon-angler's
delight, whatever it is, there are multitudes prepared to
pay and suffer, without asking anything whatever that
is injurious to other men or to the public weal. Nor
is it to the purpose that there are moments — rather
perhaps only one moment — when the angler himself
may half suspect his own rationality, — the moment when
after having toiled all day and caught nothing, he turns,
soaked and shivering, to the hut which is his home for
the night, seeing in his mind's eye his unsympathising
wife, his unanswered letters, and especially his vacant
chair at the board of the friend whose good opinion and
better dinner he has recklessly forfeited. For a moment
the inclination seizes him to say with Touchstone in the
forest, — ' When I was at home I was in a better place.'
But it is but for a moment ; and then follows another
strange effect. How is it that on or near the river-side
everything he sees or tastes seems better than are better
things at better places? — bad whisky better than the
best claret ; braxy mutton than the choice of Leaden-
hall ; the conversation of a decidedly unintellectual
keeper or boatman than the best mots of the best got-
up diner-out ; and the repose on the pallet of chaff
or straw deeper and sweeter than often visits beds of
air or down ? Come how it may, come it does, that the

IRussel 549

discussions, the jokes, the incidents of times like these,
the memory cherishes and gloats over through many
years, and especially through many dreary close-times
when multitudes of things doubtless much brighter and
less worthy to fade, have been forgotten or are
remembered but as wearinesses."

And yet Russel elsewhere expresses his opinion that
trout-fishing has charms superior to those of salmon-
fishing. In " An Angling Saunter in Sutherlandshire,"
the most delightful of all his writings, he says :

" The joys of salmon-fishing who shall deny except
those that never tried them, and therefore have no
right to speak ? But nowhere are they the sole or
even chief joy of the true angler, and nowhere should
they be less so than in Sutherland. Trout-fishing is,
we boldly maintain, not only a more delightful amuse-
ment, but a higher art. A really good trout-fisher —
that is, not a trout-fisher who can take trouts under
circumstances when anybody can take them, but who
can conquer the most perplexing difficulties, and circum-
vent the most sharpened instincts — is a person of higher
accomplishment and greater merit than an equally good
salmon-fisher, somewhat in the same proportion that a
trout which knows every pebble in its haunt, and is
familiar with every kind of worm of the earth and
insect of the air, to say nothing of a ripened repugnance
to steel and feathers, is a better informed and more
sceptical fish than a salmon which has only left the
ocean a few days or hours, and is a stranger to every-
thing that comes before its eyes, or is offered to its
mouth. Some skill in handling implements is required

550 Tfcings of tbe 1Rofct IRifle, anfc (Bun

in salmon-fishing, but even in that department the
requirements of trout-fishing are more rigid. The
knowledge required for salmon-angling is chiefly local —
the knowledge of the very spot, never to be inferred
certainly from mere appearances, where the fish is lying
if he is lying anywhere ; whilst the knowledge required
for trout is chiefly a knowledge of the whole habits
and instincts of the race. Again, salmon being few
but ignorant, and trout numerous but knowing, the
capture of that is largely a matter of chance — of this
almost purely a matter of skill."

And as a bit of picturesque writing, showing that
the author had a true, poetic sympathy with Nature,
I submit this sample :

" At Scourie, if the angler, slightly sated by diligence
in his proper vocation, desires to seek variety of interest,
he has it at hand. There is the island of Handa,
probably the most stupendous cliff scenery in the
British Islands. No description or expectation is felt
as adequate, when, after the slow ascent from the land-
ward side of the island, you at one step stand on a
wall of rock seven hundred feet sheer above the Atlantic,
which chafes and thunders eternally against that mighty
battlement. Here the front presented to the assailing
surges is without ledge or cleft that would give footing
to a bird or hiding to an insect. There, you see it
rent and worn by the storms of ages, and look down
upon the fallen ruins and isolated, fantastic turrets
and upon the savage and half-enroofed bays within
which the wild waters are, one moment lying in grim
repose, the next roaring and leaping in fierce im-

Hlejanfcer IRusscl 55'

patience. Standing on this sublime rampart, awed by
the alternating silence, and the thunder of ocean's
artillery, as each slow-succeeding wave crashed against
the repelling rock, or rushed booming into the ca
and bays, a singing bird, unseen on the face of the
cliff, sent forth a strain so low, so clear, so sweet, like
a spirit-visitant from some far and better world. Awe
stole in by eye and ear in presence of that truceless
war between the invading ocean and the defying land ;
but so it was — a deeper, though less dreary, dread came
from the faint notes of that tiny and unseen songster.
No fine-strung mental frame was required to hear in
it an echo and memory of that ' still small voice ' which,
issuing we know not whence, is heard ever and again
amid the loudest storms and fiercest tumults of our
mortal state."

It was on one of these fishing holidays that Russel
met a clergyman with whom he had the following
colloquy. " Do you ever fish ? " asked the editor of The
Scotsman. "Yes," replied the man in black, with the
peculiarly sanctimonious smile which that class of parson
usually assumes when perpetrating a pious joke, " that
is my vocation ; but I do not fish for salmon or trout, I
am only a fisher of men." " I'm afraid," rejoined Russel,
" you don't make much of it, then, for I looked into your
creel on Sunday and there was very little in it."

Now and then Russel accepted an invitation to shoot
but he was a poor shot, and so awkward in handling his
gun that I have heard it said that the shot was some-
times purposely drawn from his cartridges to ensure the
safety of the other members of the shooting party ; and

552 ftfngs of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, an& (Bun

Russel blazed away quite unconscious of the trick played
on him, never expecting to hit anything, and therefore
neither surprised nor disappointed to see the birds fly
away unscathed.

On the other hand, he was a very keen and skilful
curler, and also took a lively interest in cricket, though I
do not know that he was anything of a player. In his
latter days, when he lived much in the country at his
house on Tweedside, he delighted to patronise cricket
matches in the neighbourhood and have the young
cricketers up to supper. For he was as happy among
boys as among men, and had a wonderful power of
kindling enthusiasm in the young. In his own family
he was the most affectionate of fathers, and his children
were devoted to him, though there were strange stories
current of the very remarkable anathemas against Dr.
Candlish, the famous Moderator of the Free Church,
which Russel taught his bairns to utter at his dinner-
table when they were too young to know the meaning of
the phrases which they repeated like parrots.

In 1859 Russel's admirers presented him with a
magnificent service of plate, which cost ,£1,770, as a
recognition of his services to the Liberal party and of
the high position he had made for The Scotsman as an
independent journal. It was on this occasion that when
asked what his coat-of-arms was, he replied, " My shirt-
sleeves."

But the highest mark of honour bestowed upon
him and the one which he himself prized most was his
election in 1875 as an honorary member of the Reform
Club "for distinguished public services."

Htejanfcer IRusset 553

He did not, however, live to enjoy that honour long.
From the year 1872, when a serious illness compelled
him to winter in the south of France, his health had
been broken. Yet he did not spare himself. He some-
times wrote three articles a day for weeks together, and
often in such pain that he had to write his " copy "
kneeling, because he could neither sit nor stand. For
the disease from which he suffered was angina-pectoris,
which contracts the chest with paroxysms of acutest
agony. But the end came suddenly, and it was with a
feeling of shocked surprise that on July i8th, 1876,
Edinburgh learned that the great journalist was dead.
The next day the news was all over the kingdom, and
as I have already said, nowhere out of Scotland did it
create such profound sensation as in London. For many
London pressmen were familiar with that big, burly figure
with the broad, unshapely shoulders, the enormous head
with the hat well on the back of it, the ruddy, spectacled
face with the tip-tilted nose and the clever, searching,
canny look. The late Mr. R. H. Hutton, of The Spectator,
in his way as remarkable a force in journalism as Russel
himself, said of him : " Russel of The Scotsman looks like
three of Dickens' best characters rolled into one — with
the bald, benevolent head and spectacles of Pickwick,
the shrewd expression of Sam Weller, and the abrupt
enunciation of Alfred Jingle."

To Alexander Russel, as a bluff, hearty hater of all
humbug and cant, as a humourist of the first water,
above all as a King among Anglers, I give my unqualified
admiration, and I think all broad-minded sportsmen who
read these pages will do the same.

Sir Samuel White Baker

IF I were asked to name the greatest sportsman of the
nineteenth century I should have little hesitation in
conferring that distinction upon Sir Samuel Baker.
I use the word sportsman in its highest sense, and I say
that in his love of true sport and in his fearless enjoy-
ment of the perils as well as the pleasures of the chase
Sir Samuel Baker has had certainly no superior, and
I think but two equals. William Cotton Oswell and
Frederick Courtenay Selous I rank as his peers in
daring and skill, but he eclipsed them both in the
varied nature of his experiences and in the cosmopoli-
tanism (if I may use the word in this connection) of his
sport. Baker was, of course, much more than a sports-
man— he was a great administrator and explorer; but
though I shall refer to those phases of his career, it is
as a sportsman primarily that I give him a place in
these pages. It was his love of sport which led him
to leave England and rove in far-off lands ; but for
that incentive to travel he might never have found
the greater work which has made his name famous.
Samuel Baker came of a race of rovers, though

554

SIR SAMUEL WHITE BAKER.

Sir Samuel Mbttc Xahcr 555

it was on the sea and not on the land that most of
his ancestors sought a vent for their adventurous spirit.
Some of them, however, were of more stable temperament,
and distinguished themselves by their ability as men of
affairs. The Reverend David Lloyd, in his " Statesmen
and Favourites of England," published in 1665, says*
" There is one of this name remarkable in every King's
reign since the Conquest." The most notable of these
Bakers was Sir John, sometime Attorney-General and
Recorder of London, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and
Speaker of the House of Commons in the reigns of
Henry VIII., Edward VI., and Mary, all of whom he ably
and faithfully served. Sir John's brother James was the
lineal ancestor in direct male issue of the great explorer
and hunter.

Sir Samuel's grandfather, Valentine Baker, was a
citizen of credit and renown in Bristol, who had proved
himself a right valiant sailor. He entered the Royal
Navy in his youth, but quitted the service to take
independent command of a privateer, fitted out at
the expense of himself and his friends. She was an
eighteen-gun sloop named the Ccesar. On June 27th,
1782, when England was fighting France, Spain, and
Holland on the high seas, Valentine Baker fell in with
a French frigate carrying thirty-two guns. Despite his
great inferiority in armament and men he gave battle,
and so splendidly did he fight his ship that the French
frigate, riddled and mauled by his fire, struck her flag.
The Ccesar, however, with all her boats smashed, crippled
in her rigging, and leaking like a sieve, was unable
to board her prize, and the Frenchman, perceiving the

556 Ifcfnss of tbe TCofc, Iftifle, anfc (Bun

plight of his conqueror, rehoisted his flag and sailed
away. But the next day he was captured by an English
frigate and taken into Portsmouth. Thither Valentine
Baker also steered his course to refit, and on seeing
the French frigate claimed her as his prize. The French
captain, when he realised how vastly inferior in strength
was the vessel to which he had struck his flag, was so
mortified that he blew out his brains. The merchants
of Bristol showed their appreciation of their fellow-
citizen's valour by presenting him with a handsome
silver vase bearing this inscription :

Presented to Captain Valentine Baker by the Merchants
and Insurers of Bristol for gallantly defending the ship Ccesar
against a French sloop of war greatly superior in force to his
own ship and beating her off on June 27th, 1782.

The son of this gallant sailor, Samuel Baker, added
greatly to the wealth and status of the family. He
became one of the wealthiest merchants in Bristol,
owned rich sugar plantations in Jamaica and Mauritius,
was master of a fleet of trading ships, a director of the
Great Western Railway, and chairman of the Gloucester-
shire Bank. He had a fine country mansion at Lypiatt
Park, and a stately town house in London. It was at
the latter that his eldest son, Samuel White Baker, was
born on June 8th, 1821.

Samuel the younger is described by his tutor as " of
the Saxon type, a noble-looking boy, with a very fair
complexion, light hair, and fearless blue eyes." His
education was desultory, and he was left pretty much to
his own devices. Like all genuine English boys of the
right sort, he was mischievous, plucky, and pugnacious.

Sir Samuel Mbttc JBafter 557

Natural history was his chief study, and his methods
were characterised by a desire to " see into things," and
penetrate the mystery of everything that puzzled him.
One of the things which exercised his mind was the
rapidity with which plants grew as compared with
human beings. A dim theory on the subject took
shape in his brain, with the result that one morning
he dug a hole and buried his youngest sister up to
the neck, then patiently sat down to watch whether
the process of planting would promote her growth !
The interesting experiment, however, was nipped in the
bud by the arrival of his mother on the scene. But
one can trace the germ of the explorer in the incident.
That he should also have experimented with gun-
powder and nearly blown himself and his brothers and
sisters to pieces was only to be expected from a lad
of his character.

The physical strength which was so remarkable in his
manhood developed itself early. When he was but a
lad of seventeen he rescued a worthy but pursy citizen
at Gloucester Fair from the hands of ruffians who would
have maltreated and robbed him, and when the leader of
the gang, a notorious and powerful bully, challenged
him to fight, young Samuel hit him senseless with a
single well-planted blow.

He was a born sportsman. Nature had given him
that " Nimrod " spirit which those who are not born
sportsmen cannot understand. Possibly it is a survival
of the old hunting instinct of savage forefathers who
had to depend for their livelihood on their woodcraft,
and regarded in that light may not be creditable to

558 iktn^s of tbe 1Rofct IRifle, ant> (Bun

civilised man. But that it is born in some men no one
can deny, and the man who is born with it cannot
suppress it if he wished. It takes possession of him,
a dominant passion affecting his whole temperament
and character. Baker has thus attempted to describe
his conception of this love of sport :

" Now the actual killing of an animal, the death itself,
is not sport, unless the circumstances connected with it
are such as to create that peculiar feeling which can only
be expressed by the word ' sport.' This feeling cannot
exist in the heart of a butcher : he would as soon
slaughter a fine buck by tying him to a post and knock-
ing him down, as he would shoot him in his wild native
haunts — the actual moment of death, the fact of killing,
is his enjoyment. To a true sportsman the enjoyment
of the sport increases in proportion to the wildness of
the country. Catch a six-pound trout in a quiet mill-
pond in a populous manufacturing neighbourhood, with
well-cultivated meadows on either side of the stream, fat
cattle grazing on the rich pasturage, and, perhaps,
actually watching you as you land your fish ; it may be
sport. But catch a similar fish far from the haunts of
men, in a boiling rocky torrent surrounded by heathery
mountains, where the shadow of a rod has seldom been
reflected in the stream, and you cease to think the former
fish worth catching ; still he is the same size, showed the
same courage, had the same perfection of condition, and
yet you cannot allow that it was sport compared with
this wild stream. If you see no difference in the excite-
ment you are not a sportsman : you would as soon catch
him in a washing-tub, and you should buy your fish when

Sir Samuel MF3tte iJBafeer 559

you require him ; but never use a rod or you would
disgrace the hickory."

I have given elsewhere in these pages abundant proof
that this love of sport has frequently been allied with
the most brilliant intellectual gifts and the highest moral
character. And I am sure that there is no sportsman
who will not endorse these words in which Sir Samuel
Baker sums up the result of his own knowledge :

" I have had a great experience of thorough sports-
men, and I can safely say that I never saw one who
was not a straightforward, honourable man, and who
would scorn to take mean advantage of man or animal.
In fact, all real sportsmen whom I have met have been
really tender-hearted men — men who shun cruelty to
an animal and who are easily moved by a tale of
distress."

And now let us see how Samuel Baker carried out his
own ideas of sportsmanship.

His early life was aimless. He had no need to take
up any profession, and though he ostensibly adopted
the calling of an engineer he had no serious intention of
devoting himself to it. He married in 1843, when he
was two-and-twenty, and two years later he set out for
Ceylon to hunt elephants.

Ceylon was then the paradise of the elephant-hunter.
So numerous were the great beasts that they were a
public pest — they overran the country and ruined the
rice-fields. The Government offered large rewards for
their slaughter, but until Baker appeared upon the scene
there was no serious attempt to lessen their numbers.
I think it is not too much to say that Baker was the

560 ikinss of tfoe 1Rot>, IRffle, anfc (Bun

greatest elephant-hunter that ever lived. His success
was largely owing to the great bodily strength which
enabled him to use rifles which no ordinary man would
dare to fire from the shoulder. His favourite weapon
was a single rifle 36 inches in the barrel, weighing 21 Ibs.,
and carrying a 4-oz. bullet with a charge of 16 drams of
powder. Next to this in favour came a long double
rifle, weighing 16 Ibs., carrying a 2-oz. bullet with a
charge of 12 drams of powder. The first-named weapon
was made by Gibbes according to a design supplied by
Baker, and the inventor thus describes his experience
with it :

" An extraordinary success attended this rifle, which
became my colossal companion for many years in wild
sports with dangerous game. It will be observed that
the powder-charge was one-third the weight of the
projectile, and not only a tremendous crushing power
but an extraordinary penetration was obtained, never
equalled by any rifle that I have since possessed."

But it is obvious that only a man of powerful and
massive build could have used such a weapon. To say
nothing of the weight, the shock from the discharge of
1 6 drams of powder must have been tremendous, enough
to shake an ordinary man to pieces. Of the stopping
power of this colossal rifle I shall quote several examples ;
of its penetrative power it is sufficient to say that on
one occasion, at a distance of nearly 800 yards, it
sent its 4-oz. bullet completely through a buffalo bull,
crushing both hip-joints. Twice, with a single bullet
from this rifle, Baker killed two buffaloes, the projectile
passing clean through the shoulders of the first and

Sir Samuel Mbtte 3Bafeer 561

piercing the second through heart and lungs. But
perhaps his finest achievement with this tremendous
weapon was a grand shot at an elephant 120 yards
distant ; the huge bullet struck the beast fair and full
in the forehead, and Behemoth fell stone dead in his
tracks.

As no one, before or since his time, has had such
experience of elephant-hunting, it is interesting to know
Baker's opinion of the noble quarry. I have quoted
William Cotton Oswell's description of the elephant as
the real " King of beasts " in Africa, and Baker assigns
Behemoth the same royal pre-eminence in Asia.

" The King of beasts," he says, " is generally acknow-
ledged to be the lion ; but no one who has seen a wild
elephant can doubt for a moment that the title belongs
to him in his own right. Lord of all created animals
in might and sagacity, the elephant roams through
his native forests. He browses upon the lofty branches,
upturns young trees from sheer malice, and from plain
to forest he stalks majestically at break of day,
'monarch of all he surveys.' . . .

A person who has never seen a wild elephant
can form no idea of his real character, either mentally
or physically. The unwieldy and sleepy-looking beast
who, penned up in his cage at a menagerie, receives
a sixpence in his trunk, and turns round with difficulty
to deposit it in a box, whose mental powers seem
to be concentrated in the idea of receiving buns tossed
into a gaping mouth by children's hands — this very
beast may have come from a war- like stock. His sire
may have been the terror of a district, a pitiless

VOL. II. 15

562 ifcfnss of tbe 1Rot>, "Rifle, anb (Bun

highwayman, whose soul thirsted for blood ; who,
lying in wait in some thick bush, would rush upon
the unwary passer-by and know no pleasure greater
than the act of crushing his victim to a shapeless
mass beneath his feet. How little does his tame,
sleepy son resemble him ! Instead of browsing on
the rank vegetation of wild pasturage, he devours
plum-buns ; instead of bathing his giant form in the
deep rivers and lakes of his native land, he steps
into a stone-lined basin to bathe before the eyes of
a pleased multitude, the whole of whom form their
opinion of elephants in general from the broken-spirited
monster which they see before them.

I have even heard people exclaim upon hearing
anecdotes of elephant-hunting, ' Poor things ! '

Poor things, indeed ! I should like to see the very
person who thus expresses his pity going at his best
pace with a savage elephant after him ; give him a
lawn to run upon if he likes, and see the elephant
gaining a foot in every yard of the chase, fire in his
eye, fury in his headlong charge ; and would not the
flying gentleman who lately exclaimed ' Poor thing ! '
be thankful to the lucky bullet that would save him
from destruction?"

So much for the quarry, now for the perils of hunting
him. Here is Sir Samuel Baker's account of a narrow
escape from a " rogue " :

"He was a magnificent elephant, one of the most
vicious in appearance that I have ever seen : he
understood the whole affair as well as we did : and,
flourishing his trunk, he paced quickly backwards

Sir Samuel TKHbtte JSafeer 563

and forwards for a few turns before the jungle he
had just quitted ; suddenly making his resolution,
he charged straight at the bush behind which we
had imagined ourselves concealed. He was about
eighty yards off when he commenced his onset ; and
seeing that we were discovered I left the hiding-place,
and stepped to the front of the bush to meet him
with the four-ounce rifle. On he came at a great pace,
carrying his head very high and making me the sole
object of his attack. I made certain of the shot,
although his head was in a difficult position, and I
accordingly waited for him till he was within fifteen
paces. At this distance I took a steady shot and
fired. A cloud of smoke, from the heavy charge of
powder, obscured everything, but I felt so certain that
he was down, that I looked under the smoke to see
where he lay. Ye gods ! He was just over me in
full charge ! I had not even checked him by the shot,
and he was within three yards of me, going at a
tremendous pace. Throwing my heavy rifle into the
bush, I doubled quickly to one side, hoping that he
would pass me and take to the main jungle, to which
I ran parallel as fast as my legs could carry me.
Instead of taking to the jungle, he turned short and
quickly after me, and a fair race commenced. I had
about three feet start of him, and I saw with delight
that the ground was as level and smooth as a lawn :
there was no fear of tripping up, and away I went
at the fastest pace that I ever ran either before or
since, taking a look behind me to see how the chase
went on. I saw the bullet-mark in his forehead,

564 1fcin0s of tbe 1Rofct IRifle, anfc Gun

which was covered with blood ; his trunk was stretched
to its full length to catch me, and was now within
two feet of my back ; he was gaining on me, although
I was running at a tremendous pace. I could not
screw an inch more speed out of my legs, and I
kept on with the brute gaining on me at every stride.
He was within a foot of me, and I had not heard a
shot fired and not a soul had come to the rescue.
The sudden thought struck me that my brother could
not possibly overtake the elephant at the pace at
which we were going, and I immediately doubled
short to my left into the open plain and back towards
the guns. The * rogue ' overshot me. I met my brother
close to his tail, which position he had with difficulty
maintained ; but he could not get a shot, and the
elephant turned into the jungle and disappeared just
as I escaped him by a sharp turn. This was a close
shave ; had not the ground been perfectly level I
must have been caught to a certainty, and, even as
it was, he would have had me in another stride had
I not turned from my straight course."

But an even closer shave, in fact, the closest Sir
Samuel ever had, was the following, which happened
after the party had already bagged nine elephants :

" I had one barrel still loaded, and I was pushing my
way through the tangled grass towards the spot where
the dead elephants lay together, when I suddenly heard
Wallace shriek out, ' Look out, sir ! Look out ! — an
elephant's coming!'

I turned round in a moment ; and close past Wallace,
from the very spot where the last dead elephant lay,

Sir Samuel Udbite Bafeer 5*5

came the very essence and incarnation of a ' rogue '
elephant in full charge. His trunk was thrown high
in the air, his ears were cocked, his tail stood erect
above his back as a poker, and, screaming exactly
like the whistle of a railway engine, he rushed upon
me through the high grass with a velocity that was
perfectly wonderful. His eyes flashed as he came on,
and he had singled me out as his victim.

I have often been in dangerous positions, but I never
felt so totally devoid of hope as I did in this instance
The tangled grass rendered retreat impossible. I had
only one barrel loaded, and that was useless, as the
upraised trunk protected his forehead. I felt myself
doomed ; the few thoughts that rush through men's
minds in such hopeless positions, flew through mine,
and I resolved to wait for him till he was close upon
me before I fired, hoping that he might lower his trunk
and expose his forehead.

He rushed along at the pace of a horse in full
speed ; in a few moments, as the grass flew to the
right and left before him, he was close upon me, but
still his trunk was raised and I would not fire. One
second more, and at this headlong pace he was within
three feet cf me ; down slashed his trunk with the
rapidity of a whip thong, and with a shrill scream of
fury he was upon me.

I fired at that instant ; but in the twinkling of an
eye I was flying through the air like a ball from a
bat. At the moment of firing I had jumped to the
left, but he struck me with his tusk in full charge
upon my right thigh and hurled me eight or ten

566 ifcinas of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, ant) 0un

paces from him. That very moment he stopped, and
turning round, he beat the grass about with his trunk,
and commenced a strict search for me. I heard him
advancing close to the spot where I lay as still as
death, knowing that my last chance lay in concealment.
I heard the grass rustling close to me ; closer and
closer he approached, and he at length beat the grass
with his trunk several times exactly above me. I held
my breath, momentarily expecting to find his ponderous
foot upon me. Although I had not felt the sensation
of fear while I had stood opposed to him, I felt like
what I never wish to feel again while he was deliberately
hunting me up. Fortunately I had reserved my fire
until the rifle almost touched him, for the powder
and smoke had nearly blinded him and had spoiled
his acute power of scent. To my joy I heard the
rustling of the grass grow fainter; again I heard it
at a still greater distance ; at length it was gone !

At that time I thought that half my bones were
broken, as I was numbed from head to foot by the
force of the blow. His charge can only be compared
to a blow from a railway engine going at twenty
miles an hour.

Not expecting to be able to move, I crept to my
hands and knees. To my delight there were no bones
broken, and with a feeling of thankfulness I stood
erect. I with difficulty reached a stream of water
near the spot, in which I bathed my leg, but in a
few minutes it swelled to the size of a man's waist."

Yet this rough handling did not daunt the in-
domitable hunter. Two days later he was on the

Sir Samuel Mbitc iJBafeer s6?

track of the herd and killed four of them, two with
a right and left shot from his double rifle. In five
days Baker bagged thirty-one elephants, and his
biggest bag for a single day was fourteen !

In his savage state the elephant is as courageous
as he is ferocious, but when tamed, though he retains
his ferocity, it is often combined with extreme cowardice
and a tendency to panic. Baker gives several re-
markable instances of this strange combination of
qualities, as illustrated in tiger-shooting, for which I
must refer the reader to his two enthralling books
" Rifle and Hound in Ceylon " and " Wild Beasts and
their Ways."

For all animals above the size of a fallow deer and
below that of a buffalo Baker's favourite weapon was
the '577 Express, with a solid bullet of 638 grains, and
a charge of 6 drams of powder. It was on the solidity
of the bullet that he laid most stress, and his remarks
on this subject are worth quoting :

" I have seen in a life's experiences the extraordinary
vagaries of rifle bullets, and for close ranges of 20
yards, there is nothing, in my opinion, superior to the
old spherical hardened bullet, with a heavy charge of
powder. The friction is minimised, the velocity is
accordingly increased, and the hard round bullet neither
deflects nor alters its form, but it cuts through inter-
vening branches and goes direct to its aim, breaking
bones and keeping a straight course through the animal.
This means death.

At the same time it must be remembered that a
•577 rifle may be enabled to perform wonders by

$68 ftfngs of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, an& ©un

adapting the material of the bullet to the purpose
specially desired. No soft-skinned animal should be
shot with a hardened bullet, and no hard-skinned
animal should be shot with a soft bullet.

You naturally wish to kill your animal neatly — to
double it up upon the spot. This you will seldom or
never accomplish with a very hard bullet and a heavy
charge of powder, as the high velocity will drive the
hard projectile so immediately through the animal that
it receives no striking energy, and is accordingly un-
aware of a fatal wound that it may have received,
simply because it has not sustained a shock upon the
impact of a bullet which has passed completely through
its body.

To kill a thin-skinned animal neatly, such as a tiger,
lion, large deer, etc., the bullet should be pure lead,
unmixed with any other metal. This will flatten to
a certain degree immediately upon impact, and it will
continue to expand as it meets with resistance in
passing through the tough muscles of a large animal,
until it assumes the shape of a fully developed mush-
room, which after an immense amount of damage in
its transit, owing to its large diameter, will remain fixed
beneath the skin upon the side opposite to its place
of entry. This bestows the entire striking energy
of the projectile, and the animal succumbs to the
tremendous shock, which it would not have felt had
the bullet passed through, carrying on its striking
energy until stopped by some other object beyond."

I will give one out of many illustrations of the in-
efficacy of the hollow bullet which Baker's experiences

Sir Samuel Mbttc JBafecr

supplied. On one occasion, when tiger-shooting, the
tiger suddenly charged straight at the elephant on
which Baker was mounted.

" The elephant," he says, " was startled by the un-
expected apparition, and I could not fire, as he swung
his mighty head on one side, but almost immediately
he received the tigress upon his long tusks, and with
a swing to the right he sent her flying into the deep
nullah from which she had just emerged. Although
the trees and shrubs were utterly devoid of leaves,
there was unfortunately a large and dense evergreen
bush exactly opposite, called karoonda ; the tigress
sprang up the bank, and disappeared behind this
opaque screen before we had time to fire.

The mahout, who was a splendid fellow, perceived
this in an instant, and driving his elephant a few paces
forward, he turned his head to the right, giving me a
beautiful clear sight of the tigress, bounding at full
speed, about 80 paces distant along the clean surface
of parched herbage, up a slight incline.

I heard the crack of Berry's rifle close to my ear,
but no effect was produced. The tigress was going
directly away from us, and the elephant stood as firm
as a rock, without the least vibration. As I touched
the trigger, the tigress performed a most perfect
somersault, and lay extended on the bare soil, with
her head turned towards us, and her tail stretched in
a straight line exactly in the opposite direction. A
great cheer from our men, who had witnessed the
flying shot from their position on the knoll was highly-
satisfactory.

570 ikinas of tbe 1Rot>, IRifle, anfc Gun

We now turned back, and at length discovered a
spot where the elephant could descend and cross the
deep nullah. We then measured the distance — 82
yards, as nearly as we could step it. My -577 solid
bullet of pure lead had struck the tigress in the back
of the neck ; it had reduced to pulp several of the
vertebrae, and entering the brain, it had divided itself
into two portions by cutting its substance upon the
hard bones of the broken skull, which was literally
smashed to pieces.

I found a sharp-pointed, jagged piece of lead repre-
senting about one-third of the bullet, protruding through
the right eyeball ; the remaining two-thirds I discovered
in the bones of the face by the back teeth, where it was
fixed in a misshapen but compact mass among splinters
of broken jaw.

Berry's bullet had also struck the tigress, but pre-
cisely in the same place, close to the root of the tail,
where he had wounded the tiger a short time before.
Upon arrival at the camp we skinned the animal, and
took special pains to prove the effect of the unfortunate
hollow bullet. This was conclusive, and a serious
warning.

The penetration was only an inch in depth. We
washed the flesh in cold water, and searched most care-
fully throughout the lacerated wound, which occupied
a very small area of about one inch. In this we found
two pieces of the copper plug, which stopped the hole
in front of the bullet, together with a number of very
minute fragments or flakes of lead ; these proved that
the extremely hollow projectile had broken up, and

Sir Samuel Mbttc JBaftcr 571

was rendered abortive almost immediately upon impact.
The danger of such a bullet was manifest ; it was almost
as hollow as a hat, and almost as harmless as a hat
would be if thrown at a charging tiger."

Sir Samuel Baker's experience of big game shooting
was so varied, comprising as it did sporting tour> in
Europe, Asia, Africa, and North America, that one is
bewildered with the wealth of material for quotation.
And then it was not only with rifle and gun that he
bagged his quarry. He was a hunter in the widest
sense of the word. There was nothing he loved better
than hunting elk and boar on foot with hounds, himself
armed only with a hunting-knife. In his stirring book
" Rifle and Hound in Ceylon " he thus describes his
favourite sport :

" Thoroughly sound in wind and limb, with no super-
fluous flesh, must be the man who would follow the
hounds in this wild country — through jungles, rivers,
plains and deep ravines, sometimes from sunrise to
sunset without tasting food since the previous evening,
with the exception of a cup of coffee and a piece of toast
before starting. It is trying work, but it is a noble sport ;
no weapon but the hunting-knife, no certainty as to the
character of the game that may be found, it may be
either an elk or a boar or a leopard, and yet the knife and
the good hounds are all that can be trusted in."

In his strong hands the hunting-knife was a terrible
weapon. His favourite couteau de cJiasse was made, he
tells us, of a portion of real old Andrea Ferrara Highland
claymore, the blade was 1 8 inches in length and 2 inches
in width, about 3 Ibs. in weight, double-edged, and

572 ifcings of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, anfc Gun

as sharp as a lancet. With this knife he on one occasion
cut a charging boar clean through the spine and
shoulder right down into the vitals. But a more terrific
stroke even than that was one which he dealt to a
rhinoceros when he was among the Hamran sword-
hunters of the Soudan. He thus tells the story in
"Wild Beasts and their Ways":

" We had not advanced far through the tolerably open
jungle when we arrived at the foot of a rocky hill.
There were many large boulders lying about, when
suddenly one of my Arabs touched my arm, and
directed my attention to an object that appeared to be
a rock ; almost at the same moment a rhinoceros rose
quickly from the ground, and had evidently obtained
our wind. I made a good shot with a No. 10 rifle
through the shoulder, and after turning twice round, and
uttering a peculiar squeaking sound like the bellows
arrangement of a crying doll, it fell to the ground and
died. We now observed a fine young animal which was
standing upon the opposite side of the mother, and I
suggested to my famous Hamran hunters that we should
call up the camels and endeavour to secure the calf with
our good supply of ropes.

This was quite opposed to their ideas, as the young
one was sufficiently advanced to boast of a pair of small
horns, which the Arabs declared to be too formidable to
warrant an attempt at capture. I thought otherwise,
therefore I arranged that we should make a trial. The
camels were brought, and the ropes arranged. Nooses
were prepared, and I suggested that we should attempt
the young one, and then secure its legs. My Arabs

Sir Samuel Mbitc JBafeer 573

declined this plan, as they rightly declared that the
ground was unfavourable, owing to the number of large
rocks, which would prevent them from getting out of
harm's way should the animal charge.

It was ultimately arranged that Taher Noor, my i
Arab, was to lend me his sword, and that I was
go first, while they would follow with the ropes and
nooses, to endeavour to trip up the calf should it charge
past me. Taher Noor drew his sword. This was a
beautiful blade, that had belonged to his family, and
been handed from father to son for several generations ;
the cross hilt and fittings of the handle were solid silver,
also the knob at the end through which the tongue was
riveted. He cautioned me to beware of striking a stone,
and he evidently parted with regret from his familiar
weapon.

The calf was about 3^ feet high, and was standing
by the body of its mother, evidently ignorant of her
death. As I cautiously approached it looked much
larger than when I had seen it at a distance, and I
began to think the Arabs were right in their conjecture.
There was not much time for reflection, for the young
tartar gave an angry shake of its ugly head, emitted
the usual three sharp whiffs, and charged at me as fast
as it could gallop. I jumped quickly backwards, by
a large rock, and it passed within 3 feet of me, but
immediately halted instead of continuing so far as the
spot where the Arabs were in waiting with the ropes.
It now turned round, and seeing me, it repeated its
charge in reverse, as hard as it could go. I again
jumped back, but as I did so, I delivered a lightning-like

574 Ifcfnas of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc 6un

downward cut with Taher Noor's sword. The young
rhinoceros fell stone-dead, all in a heap !

The Arabs ran to the spot. Taher Noor took the
sword carefully from my hand, and poising it at arm's
length, he looked along the edge ; he then wiped the
blade upon the body of the rhinoceros, and, to prove the
perfection of his weapon, he shaved a few hairs off his
naked arm ; then exclaimed with a deep sigh of pleasure
and astonishment, * Mashallah ! ' and returned it to the
scabbard.

We now carefully examined the young rhinoceros.
Although only a calf, it was a large animal, and the
neck was about 15 inches thick. The blade had
fortunately struck exactly between two of the vertebrae,
and had slipped through the gristle as though it had
been a carrot. Continuing its course it had severed the
neck completely, leaving only the thick skin of the
throat, to which the head was still attached.

This was a magnificent stroke, which delighted the
sword-hunters, and I should much like to hear the
story as it is told by them now, if alive, or by their
descendants. They will assuredly have converted the
calf into a full-grown rhinoceros, as the length of time
now elapsed will have accounted for the change; but
the incident will certainly be remembered, and narrated
by the owner of the sword, and will be handed down to
posterity with some few exaggerations."

Baker preferred hunting all his game on foot. Lions
he always stalked in this way, and consequently found
lion-shooting in Africa far more dangerous and exciting
sport than tiger-shooting in India. On one occasion he

Sir Samuel TKflbite JBafcer 575

tracked a lion to its den, crawled in after it, and shot the
beast when it was glaring at him not five paces di
His experience of lions, however, led him to the belief
that the lion is not so dangerous as the tiger, though
if wounded and followed up there cannot be a more
formidable opponent.

" I once," he writes, " saw a wounded lion decline a
challenge from a single hunter. It is possible that a
tiger might have behaved in the same manner, but it
would be dangerous to allow the opportunity. I had
taken a stroll in the hope of obtaining a shot at large
antelopes, to procure flesh for camp, and I was attended
by only one Arab, a Hamran hunter armed with his
customary sword and shield. Having a peculiar con-
fidence in the accuracy of a two-grooved single rifle of
small bore, I took no other, and we walked cautiously
through the jungle, expecting to see some animal that
would supply the necessaiy food. We had not walked
half a mile when we emerged upon a narrow glade about
80 yards in length, surrounded by thick bush. At one
end of this secluded and shady spot an immense lion was
lying asleep upon the ground, about 70 yards distant, on
the verge of the dense nabbuk.

He rose majestically as we disturbed him by our noise
in breaking through the bushes, and before he had time
to arrange his ideas, I fired, hitting him through the
shoulder. With the usual roars he rolled several times
in apparent convulsive struggles, until half hidden beneath
the dense jungle ; there he remained. If I had had a
double rifle I could have repeated the shot, but in those
days of muzzle-loaders I had to reload a single rifle, and

of tbe 1Ro&, IRifle, ant) (Bun

as usual, when in a hurry the bullet stuck in the barrel
and I could not drive it home.

In this perplexity, to my astonishment my Arab
hunter advanced towards the wounded lion, with his
drawn sword grasped firmly in his right hand, while his
left held his projected shield, and thus unsupported and
alone, this determined fellow marched slowly forward
until within a few yards of the lion, which, instead of
rushing to attack, crept like a coward into impenetrable
thorns, and was seen no more. The Arab subsequently
explained that he had acted in this manner, hoping that
the lion would have crouched preparatory to a spring ;
he would then have halted, and the delay would have
given me time to load."

In common with most other hunters of big game,
Sir Samuel Baker considered the buffalo of Asia and
Africa the most dangerous of all beasts to the hunter.

" The charge of a buffalo," he says, " is a very serious
matter ; many animals charge when infuriated, but they
can generally be turned by the stunning effect of a
rifle shot, even though they may not be mortally
wounded ; but a buffalo is a devil incarnate when it
has once decided upon the offensive. Nothing will
then turn it; it must be actually stopped by death,
sudden and instantaneous, as nothing else will stop it.
If not killed it will assuredly destroy its adversary.
There is no creature in existence that is so determined
to stamp out the life of its opponents, and the intensity
of fury is unsurpassed when a wounded bull buffalo
rushes forward upon the last desperate charge. Should
it succeed in overthrowing its antagonist it will not

Sir Samuel Mfoitc Rafter 577

only gore the body with its horns, but will endeavour
to tear it to pieces, and will kneel upon the lifeless form
and stamp it with its hoofs until the mutilated remains
are disfigured beyond all recognition."

With this appalling picture of the buffalo before one's
mind's eye it is possible, even for the sportsman who
has never shot any beast more formidable than a red
deer, to form some conception of the extraordinary
courage and nerve displayed by Sir Samuel Baker in
the following adventure. A wounded buffalo had
turned to bay in the shallows of a lake. Baker waded
in knee-deep, and at a distance of a few paces put a
couple of bullets into him. But there the sulky brute
stood as though he bore a charmed life, facing the
hunter who, without another bullet left, knew that if he
moved a step in retreat the beast would certainly charge.
How he got out of his dilemma he thus tells :

" With a stealthy step and another short grunt, the
bull again advanced a couple of paces towards me.
He seemed aware of my helplessness, and he was
the picture of rage and fury, pawing the water and
stamping violently with his forefeet.

Suddenly a bright thought flashed though my mind.
Without taking my eyes off the animal before me, I
put a double charge of powder down the right-hand
barrel, and tearing off a piece of my shirt, I took all
the money from my pouch, three shillings in sixpenny
pieces and two anna pieces, which I luckily had with
me in this small coin for paying coolies. Quickly
making them into a rouleau with the piece of rag, I
rammed them down the barrel, and they were hardly
VOL. II. 16

578 ifctnas of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, anb 6un

well home before the bull again sprang forward. So
quick was it that I had no time to replace the ramrod,
and I threw it in the water, bringing my gun on full
cock in the same instant. However, he again halted,
being now about seven paces from -me, and we again
gazed fixedly at each other, but with altered feelings on
my part. I had faced him hopelessly with an empty
gun for more than a quarter of an hour which seemed
a century. I now had a charge in my gun, which I
knew if reserved till he was within a foot of the muzzle
would certainly floor him, and I awaited his onset with
comparative carelessness, still keeping my eyes opposed
to his gaze.

At this time I heard a splashing in the water behind
me, accompanied by the hard breathing of something
evidently distressed. The next moment I heard B.'s
voice. He could hardly speak for want of breath, having
run the whole way to my rescue, but I could under-
stand that he had only one barrel loaded and no bullets
left. I dared not turn my face from the buffalo, but I
cautioned B. to reserve his fire till the bull should be
close into me and then aim at the head.

The words were hardly uttered, when, with the con-
centrated rage of the last twenty minutes, he rushed
straight at me ! It was the work of an instant. B.
fired without effect. The horns were lowered, their
points were on either side of me, and the muzzle of the
gun barely touched his forehead when I pulled the
trigger and three shillings' worth of small change rattled
into his hard head. Down he went and rolled over
with the suddenly checked momentum of his charge.

Sir Samuel TTClbtte iJBafeer 579

Away went B. and I as fast as our heels would carry
us through the water and over the plain, knowing that
he was not dead but only stunned. There was a large
fallen tree about half a mile from us, whose whitened
branches rising high above the ground, offered a
tempting asylum. To this we directed our flying steps,
and after a run of a hundred yards, we turned and
looked behind us. He had regained his feet and was
following us slowly. We now experienced the difference
of feeling between hunting and being hunted, and fine
sport we must have afforded him.

On he came, but fortunately so stunned by the
collision with her Majesty's features upon the coins
which he had dared to oppose that he could only reel
forward at a slow canter. By degrees even this pace
slackened and he fell. We were only too glad to be
able to reduce our speed likewise, but we had no sooner
stopped to breathe than he was up again and after us.
At length, however, we gained the tree, and we beheld
him with satisfaction stretched powerless upon the
ground, but not dead, within two hundred yards of us.

We must certainly have exhibited poor specimens of
the boasted sway of man over the brute creation could
a stranger have witnessed our flight on this occasion.

The next morning we were up at day-break, and we
returned to the battle-field of the previous evening in
the full expectation of seeing our wounded antagonist
lying dead where we had left him. In this we were
disappointed — he was gone, and we never saw him
again."

1 have said that Baker's primary object in going out

580 ikings of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, ant> 6un

to Ceylon was to shoot elephants. But, once landed in
that beautiful island, the instincts of the geographer, the
explorer, and the coloniser, which were as strong in him
as those of the sportsman, were awakened. It distressed
him to see a place like Newera Ellia, the sanatorium of
Ceylon, utterly neglected, and all its grand natural
capabilities ignored. For the Europeans in Ceylon at
that time were too indolent to make the slightest
attempt at exploration or cultivation of their beautiful
tropical isle. Baker, therefore, resolved to set them
an example and to found a settlement at Newera Ellia
with the object of developing the great natural re-
sources of the country.

It comes as a shock to our national pride to find Sir
Samuel Baker expressing most emphatically the opinion
that the French are far superior to the English as
settlers. "A Frenchman," he says, "is necessarily a
better settler : everything is arranged for permanency,
from the building of a house to the cultivation of an
estate. He does not distress his land for immediate
profit, but from the commencement he adopts a system
of the highest cultivation." The Frenchman when he
leaves his country makes up his mind that he is bidding
an eternal adieu to his beloved France, and that he and
his posterity must look for all their future happiness
in the new land in which they settle. But you cannot
convince an English settler that he will be abroad for an
indefinite number of years : he consoles himself with the
hope that something will turn up to alter the apparent
certainty of his exile ; and in this hope, with his mind
ever fixed upon his return, he does little for posterity in

Sit Samuel Mbitc 3Baftcr 581

the colony. In proof of this assertion Baker adduces
the example of Mauritius and the He de Bourbon (now
known as Reunion), both French settlements, though
the former is now a British possession, and compares
them with Ceylon as he first knew it. Individually the
Frenchman may be a better settler in tropical climates
than the Englishman, but even Sir Samuel Baker would
hardly have contended that as a colonising race the
French are comparable to the English, and with that
reflection we may salve our wounded pride.

To carry out his idea of planting a vigorous English
settlement in Newera Ellia, Baker purchased a thousand
acres of land from the Government at twenty shillings
per acre, and engaged a bailiff, who, with his wife and
daughter and nine other emigrants, including a black-
smith, sailed from London in September, 1848. Baker's
brother John with his wife and family also joined the
company of settlers, so that, with Mrs. Samuel and her
children, the party numbered over twenty souls. The
settlers brought with them farming implements of the
most improved descriptions, seeds of all kinds, saw-mills,
and the following stock : a half-bred bull (Durham and
Hereford), a well-bred Durham cow, three rams (a
Southdown, Leicester, and Cotswold), and a thorough-
bred entire horse by Charles XII., also a small pack of
fox-hounds and a favourite greyhound.

After many disappointments the little colony at
length realised the hopes of its founder. Newera Ellia
was transformed into a fashionable and flourishing
health resort, with its churches, public reading-room,
brewery, and luxurious villas and hotels. It could boast,

582 ikings of tbe tRofc, IRifle, an& (Bun

too, of the best herds of cattle and sheep in the island,
and the tea-plantations which Baker inaugurated have
been so successful that their teas came to be quoted at
the top of the market. For eight years Baker remained
in Ceylon, but I am disposed to think that it was the
splendid sport, to which I have already referred, rather
than interest in the settlement that kept him there so
long.

In 1855, the year of his return from Ceylon, Baker's
life was darkened by the death of his wife. He sought
solace for his loss in active employment, and was
appointed to superintend the construction of the railway
bridge across the Dobrudja, connecting the Danube
with the Black Sea. He found opportunities, too, of
gratifying his love of sport and his thirst for adventure.
But his mind was unsettled, he had no definite object
in life, and when the Crimean War was over and no
chance of further adventures presented itself he had
serious thoughts of taking holy orders. Writing to an
intimate friend on February 26th, 1857, ne savs : " You
may be astonished at my future intention — to enter the
Church^ if the difficulty of age can be got over, which
I think will be no great obstacle."

He has left no record of the reasons which induced
him to abandon this project, but probably on reflection
he saw that the clerical profession was utterly unsuited
to his temperament. Only in the field of missionary
work could his adventurous spirit have found any satis-
faction, and what he had seen of missionaries in Ceylon
and elsewhere had led him to form but a poor opinion
of their character and their work.

Sir Samuel IHlbttc JBafeer 583

So he abandoned the idea of cloth in;.; his stalwart
form in a cassock, and sought consolation once more
in sport. In the course of his sporting travels in
Hungary in 1860 he met the lady who was destined
to exercise such a remarkable influence over his life-
Florence, the daughter of M. Firmian von Sass, who
became his second wife and the sharer of all his future
journeys and adventures. It is not often that a man
of Samuel Baker's stamp meets with a woman so
thoroughly in sympathy with his tastes and aspirations
as Florence Baker was with those of her husband.
Brave and resolute as he was, he found that her courage
and determination were equal to his own. Adventure
had the same charm for her as for him, and danger
had as little power to shake her nerves as it had to
shake his. One had only to look at the perfect oval
of that calm, brave face, with its singular mixture of
sweetness and strength, to realise what a helpmate such
a woman must have been in times of peril or sickness,
of distress or doubt.

In 1 86 1 Baker set off with his wife on an expedition
to Egypt. He had some vague idea of combining ex-
ploration with sport when he started, and this idea
gradually crystalised into a determination to go in
search of Speke and Grant, and help to clear the
mystery of the sources of the Nile. Of his sporting
adventures in Abyssinia, of his journey to Khartoum,
of his meeting with Speke and Grant, of his discovery
of the great lake Albert N'yanza, I have no space to
write. Let it suffice to say that when he and his wife
returned to England in 1865, after suffering indescribable

584 Htfnas of tbe fRofc, fRffle, anb (Sun

hardships and encountering frightful perils, often carrying
their lives in their hands for weeks, they were the lions
of Society. The Royal Geographical Society awarded
Baker its Gold Medal " for the relief of Captains Speke
and Grant, and his endeavours to complete the dis-
coveries of those travellers," the Khedive bestowed upon
him a decoration, the Paris Geographical Society granted
him its Gold Medal, the University of Cambridge con-
ferred upon him an Honorary Degree. Mr. Gladstone,
then Chancellor of the Exchequer, wrote to Sir Roderick
Murchison : " Baker has done us very great honour in
a distant and barbarous land : he has made another
great discovery ; the lives dearest to him have been
imperilled ; and he has achieved his work without costing
the State a shilling." Clearly, then, something must be
done for Baker. The Queen and her Ministers rose
nobly to the occasion, and showed their appreciation
and admiration of the explorer's distinguished services
by conferring upon him— a knighthood !

Sir Samuel Baker having thus by accident stumbled
upon his true vocation in life, and having proved him-
self a born leader of men, returned to Egypt in 1867
resolved to do all that in him lay to suppress the
horrible slave trade, of which he had witnessed the
appalling effects during his journey of exploration to
the lake Albert N'yanza. The Khedive entrusted him
with a firman to conduct an expedition into the interior
for the suppression of the slave trade, the introduction
of commerce, the opening of the great lakes to naviga-
tion, and the establishment of military and commercial
depots throughout Central Africa.

Sir Samuel Mbitc JBafcer 585

So, with the rank of Pasha and a commission for
four years, Sir Samuel Baker set out to execute this
large order. He had a flotilla of four steamers, and
a force of 1,650 men, with two batteries of artillery,
under his command. He was invested with absolute
and supreme power of life and death over his own
troops and the inhabitants of every district owning the
Khedive's sway through which he might pass.

It would be beyond my province to dwell upon that
remarkable expedition. How completely it accomplished
its purpose in the face of desperate fighting and cruel
treachery, how obstacles apparently insurmountable
were heroically overcome, how the slave traders were
subdued and for the time crushed into submission,
how rogues and traitors met with their deserts, and
how Sir Samuel Baker proved himself equally admirable
as a soldier and an administrator, are not these things
all graphically and vividly told in that thrilling story
of heroism and adventure, "Ismaflia"? No doubt
Baker's triumph was but temporary. The snake was
scotched, but not killed. The slave trade reared its
head again after its stern suppressor had passed, and,
beyond leaving a memory of mingled terror and
admiration behind him, Baker's expedition had little
lasting effect.

And all through those terrible four years Lady Baker
was ever at her husband's side. Sir Samuel tells us
that owing to her costume — loose belted jacket, wide
trousers, and gaiters — she was often mistaken for a
boy, and he was offered very big prices for her. When
the natives realised that she was a woman they mobbed

586 ifcinss of tfoe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc (Bun

her hut every morning to stare at her whilst she dressed
her long hair. The excitement was tremendous, and
there was a fierce struggle for the best places to see
the show.

" You must leave your wife with me," said one great
chief; and was amazed when Lady Baker sprang to
her feet in a fury of indignation, whilst Baker angrily
levelled a pistol at his head. Explanations followed :
no offence was meant. "What a fuss about a wife!"
said the dusky potentate. "Those who come to see
me are always glad to leave their wives, and I give
them fresh ones ! They are generally tired of the old
ones."

How dauntlessly and doggedly this devoted wife
stood by her husband let Sir Samuel tell:

" For 1 30 miles she marched on foot. For 78 miles,
sometimes marching 16 miles in one stretch, through
gigantic grasses and tangled forest, she was always
close behind me, carrying ammunition in the midst
of constant fighting, lances sometimes almost grazing
her. ... On arrival at Fatiko she was in a storm of
bullets. . . . She has always been my prime minister,
to give good counsel in moments of difficulty and
danger."

And the natives did not forget the brave white lady
whose beauty fascinated them. Emin Pasha, writing to
Baker sixteen years afterwards, says:

" May I ask you to pay my deepest respects and to
give my kindest regards to Lady Baker. The natives of
Unyoro have very often spoken to me of ' The Morning
Star/ as they call her to this day, and my men were

Sir Samuel White JBafeci 587

delighted in sounding her praises as a kind intermediary
between yourself and their duty."

And to this day Baker himself is remembered with
reverence and admiration by the wild Soudanese whom
he quelled. Mr. Jcphson, in the narrative of his visit to
the Equatorial Provinces, tells us the men said, " \V<-
don't care for Gordon or Emin, Baker is our man. When
he fought he was always to the front ; when he fired he
never missed ; he was indeed a man! If we did not
obey orders, he shook us ; then our teeth dropped out."

In 1874 Sir Samuel and Lady Baker once more
returned to England and settled down at their beautiful
country house Sandford Orleigh, near Newton Abbot,
which from that time became their home. But the
roving spirit was so strong in both of them that they
could never stay long in England. After the glorious
excitement of shooting big game in Ceylon, India, and
Africa, all other sport naturally seemed tame to the
mighty hunter, and year after year found him, always
accompanied by his faithful wife, with gun and rifle in
some far quarter of the globe. Cyprus, Syria, India,
Japan, and North America were all visited and the
habits of their wild beasts carefully studied. For, like
all true sportsmen, Baker as he grew older cared less for
killing the game than for finding it and watching its
ways. His reluctance to slay wild creatures, even when
he had tracked them and had them at his mercy, was
particularly noticeable during his shooting tour in North
America. When he got among the bison, which he
thought the grandest-looking and most striking of all
wild animals, he tells us that from the moment he had

588 1Ktn06 of tbe 1ftot>, IRifle, anb <£wt

secured his first specimen he determined to kill no more
but only admire. Yet he stalked his quarry with no less
pain and trouble, often for hours ; and when he had
gained a magnificent position, he raised his rifle, took
deadly aim, but merely touched the trigger which was at
half cock, and away went the " buffalo " unharmed.
"This sort of stalking," he says, "afforded me much
pleasure, but it did not suit my American attendant,
' Well, if you come all the way from the Old Country
to shoot and you won't shoot when you've got the
chance, you'd have done better to stop at home.' This
was the consolation I received for my self-denial in
sparing buffaloes ! "

In his Devonshire home, among his beautiful gardens
at Sandford Orleigh, which were the pride and pleasure
of his later days, Sir Samuel Baker was the most
delightful of hosts. Children, and especially boys,
adored him, and he was never tired of devising plans for
their amusement. His stirring tales of adventure, told
with wonderful spirit, fascinated old and young alike.
His lovable nature won the hearts of English men and
women and English boys and girls as it had aforetime
won the hearts of the dusky natives of Ceylon and
Central Africa. " I hardly ever knew a more lovable
character," wrote Lord Wharncliffe, who had shared with
him the perils and excitement of big game shooting in
the far East.

A Bohemian he was to the core, and his heart always
went out to fellow-Bohemians wherever he met them.
On one occasion down in Devonshire he passed two
itinerant singers, a man and woman, in the village.

Sir Samuel Mbitc JBafcer 589

There was something pathetic in the woman's voice
which attracted him ; he went up to them and invited
them to accompany him to Sandford Orleigh, where he
was at that time entertaining a large house party. The
guests happened to be all out, and on their return to
Sandford Orleigh with Lady Baker they were consider-
ably surprised to find their host waiting upon the two
way-worn, shabbily dressed singers, serving them with a
substantial tea and talking away to them in his very
best style. When the two queer visitors had gone some-
one ventured to express astonishment at his asking two
tramps up to the house. " Ah ! well, never mind," said
Sir Samuel, with his winning smile, " I think they have
had a happy afternoon, and I daresay that's what they
don't often have."

In his latter years he suffered greatly from gout which
interfered sadly with his sport, but he invariably spent
the winter somewhere in southern latitudes where he
could find game worthy of his rifle and gun. In 1893,
contrary to his usual custom, he decided to spend the
winter in England. Up to the middle of November he
enjoyed excellent health, but he then caught a chill out
shooting which developed into a serious chest affection.
There followed angina-pectoris, and the end came
swiftly. He died on December 3Oth, 1893, in his
seventy-third year.

Sir Samuel Baker was a sportsman of the heroic
type. He liked to meet his quarry on fair terms, and
revelled in —

The stern joy which warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel.

of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, ant) (Bun

He hated the idea of taking advantage of an un-
suspicious beast, however savage and dangerous. He
scorned that watching by moonlight for wild beasts
coming to drink in which Gordon Gumming and other
big game hunters indulged. " It is," he writes, " a sort
of midnight murder, and many a poor brute who
comes to the silent pool to cool his parched tongue
finds only a cup of bitterness, and retires again to
his jungle to die a lingering death frorn some unskilful
wound." There was no unskilful wounding when
Samuel Baker shot. He slew every tiger that he ever
fired at, and two-and-twenty of them fell to his rifle.
Of the scores of elephants, buffaloes, lions, leopards,
rhinoceroses, hippopotami, bears, elk, and lesser deer
at which he pulled trigger, more than 90 per cent,
were bagged. His shooting was deadly. On several
occasions he brought down a black partridge or a
pea-fowl on the wing with a single bullet at a
distance of sixty or seventy yards. But he did not
believe much in long shots either with gun or rifle.
On this subject he writes :

" In narrating long shots that I have made, I recount
them as bright moments in the hours of sport ; they
are the exceptions and not the rule. I consider a
man a first-rate shot who can always bag his deer
standing at eighty yards, or running at fifty. Hitting
and bagging are widely different. If a man can
always bag at the distance that I have named he will
constantly hit, and frequently bag, at extraordinary
ranges, as there is no doubt of his shooting, and, when
he misses, the ball has whizzed somewhere very close

Sir Samuel Tldbitc JBahci 591

to the object ; the chances arc, therefore, in favour of
the rifle."

Describing a wonderful shot he made at a flying
tigress eighty yards distant, he says :

" The shot was one of those pretty accidents we
remember with pleasure for a lifetime. You can
imagine the pretty somersault she made going at full
speed, like a rabbit ! She never moved a muscle
afterwards."

All those who knew Samuel Baker testify to his
truthfulness. Lord WharnclifTe, who, as the Hon.
Stuart Wortley, was his comrade in a great elephant-
shoot in Ceylon when three guns bagged fifty elephants
in three weeks, besides deer and buffaloes, on reading
the narrative of the expedition in Baker's " Rifle and
Hound in Ceylon," said : " I was delighted to see how
strictly conscientious he had been in recording the
incidents of our expedition."

But Baker himself felt that there was always a risk
of being misunderstood and suspected of shooting with
the long-bow whenever he dealt with the marvellous.
" The fact of being able to laugh in your sleeve," he
writes, "at the ignorance of a reader who does not
credit you is but a poor compensation for being
considered a better shot with the long-bow than with
the rifle. Often have I pitied Gordon Cumming when
I have heard him talked of as a palpable Munchausen
by men who never fired a rifle or saw a wild beast
except in a cage ; and still these men form the greater
proportion of the ' readers ' of these works ! "

Everyone knows how the early African explorers

592 ifcinas of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, an& (Bun

and hunters suffered from this scepticism of superior
persons at home, who, because the marvellous incidents
narrated were outside the scope of their own experience,
pronounced them to be mere " travellers' tales." Bruce,
Mungo Park, and Gordon Gumming were all ridiculed
and branded as liars for statements which are well-
known now to have been not even exaggerations of
the truth. Fortunately, the Bakers and Selous and
Stanleys of a later day have found the public too
enlightened and well-informed to be guilty of such
gross injustice.

To Sir Samuel Baker's qualities as a sportsman
Lord Wharncliffe pays this tribute :

" The most conspicuous elements in Baker's character
as a sportsman were his extraordinary coolness in face
of danger and his great aversion to the destruction of
animal life without sufficient cause or justification. He
was a man of very powerful build : not above, I believe,
5 feet 9 inches or 5 feet 10 inches in height, with very
broad shoulders and deep chest. His capacity for
enduring fatigue was extraordinary."

To this let me add Sir H. M. Stanley's estimate of
Sir Samuel Baker as an explorer :

" He was a glorious Englishman, typically manly
and straightforward. He did his work well ; few
could have done it so well. The task he was called
upon to undertake was unusual ; and the success he
achieved was solely due to his native masterfulness
and his untiring energy. In olden times he would
have been deified for his vigour, indomitable bearing,
physical strength, and exploits. Now we can only

Sir Samuel Mbtte Eafeer 593

be proud that the race from which he sprang can
still show specimens of the heroes about whom bards
chanted in the brave days of old."

As a writer Sir Samuel Baker was also admirable.
All his books are delightful and fascinating — the style,
always fluent and correct, sometimes rises to real
eloquence. I know of no better reading for anyone
who loves graphic narratives of sport and adventure.

And then he was such a genuine and devoted
lover of Nature, though he was not blind to her
cruelty.

" It is a system of terrorism from the beginning to the
end. The fowl destroys the worm, the hawk destroys the
fowl, the cat destroys the hawk, the dog kills the cat,
the leopard kills the dog, the lion kills the leopard, and
the lion is slain by man. Man appears upon the scene
of general destruction as the greatest of all destroyers,
as he alone in creation wars against his own species."

Readers of Tennyson will remember a passage in
" Maud " which breathes a similar sentiment :

For Nature is one with rapine, a harm no preacher can heal ;
The Mayfly is torn by the swallow, the sparrow spear 'd by the

shrike,
And the whole little wood where I sit is a world of plunder

and prey.

The parting words of the great hunter to his fellow-
sportsmen embody his pet theories on this subject, and
on the armament which the modern shooter of big game
will find most trustworthy :

" The lover of Nature will never tire of studying her
ways. In all his studies he will discover one great

VOL. II. 17

594 1kin0s of tbe IRofc, IRtfle, anfc Gun

ruling power of individual self, whether among the
brute creation or the vegetable world. Of the civilised
world I say nothing. In his wanderings as a naturalist
he will remember that should he endeavour to study
in their secluded haunts the wild beasts and their ways,
the law of force will always be present : it will ac-
cordingly be wise to secure the force beforehand upon
his side, and no more trusty companion and dependable
agent can be found than a double-barrelled '577 rifle to
burn 6 drams of powder with a bullet of pure lead 650
grains. This professional adviser will confirm him in
the theory that ' the law of Force will always govern the
world.1 "

The Earl of Stamford

GEORGE HARRY GREY, seventh Earl of Stamford and
Warrington, Baron Grey of Groby, Baron Delamere of
Dunham Massey, was one of the most brilliant and
dashing sportsmen of an era which has, perhaps, never
had an equal for brilliancy and dash in the annals of
sport. To have been a contemporary of the Earl of
Glasgow, George Payne, the Earl of Chesterfield, and
the Marquis of Hastings, and to have ruffled it with the
best of them at Epsom and Newmarket, is sufficient
proof of his prominence on the Turf. To have succeeded
Sir Richard Sutton as Master of the Quorn, and to have
eclipsed that great King of the Chase, not less in the
magnificence of his establishment than in his enthusi-
astic devotion to the sport, is unimpeachable evidence
of his prowess in the hunting-field. Nor was he less
renowned in the cricket-field. Lillywhite, Jackson,
Willsher, testified to his skill with bat and ball. Indeed,
in his day he was universally admitted to be one of
the fastest and most effective bowlers and tJu hardest
hitter among the gentlemen of England. Whilst the
Game Books of Enville and Bradgate and Glenmore

596 Iktn08 of tbe IRofc, IRifle, anb 6un

show that with gun and rifle, over moor and stubble, in
the deer-forest and the pheasant-covert, there was no
deadlier shot in the three kingdoms.

Lord Stamford was the only son of Lord Grey of
Groby, who sat in the House of Lords under that title
from 1832 to 1835, and died in the latter year at the
age of forty-two, leaving his son to succeed him in the
barony at the age of eight. The young Lord Grey,
who was also heir-apparent to the Earldom of Stamford
and Warrington, was sent to a private school at Hatfield,
of which the Rev. H. Peile was head, and among his
schoolfellows were the late Duke of Westminster, the late
Earl of Derby, and the late Earl of Lichfield. Hatfield
at that time also boasted of another private school, of
which Dr. Faithful was master, scarcely less select than
Mr. Peile's. If the latter could number the most noble-
men on its roll, the former could show a greater number
of the sons of eminent Commoners, and the two went by
the names respectively of the House of Lords and the
House of Commons. The future Earl of Stamford was
conspicuous among his contemporaries at both schools
as a cricketer, runner, and jumper. But it was with
the gun that his precocity was most remarkable. He
was ten years old when he was first allowed to go
out partridge-shooting ; he had never fired at a bird
on the wing before, and yet he killed, right and left,
the first birds that rose to him, and at the end of the
day he had bagged fourteen brace.

Whilst he was still at Mr. Peile's school the young
Lord Grey, by the death of his grandfather at the age
of eighty, succeeded to the Earldom of Stamford and

-J I

&<+**/ cKct

7

£arl of Stamford 597

Warrington, and immediately afterwards went up to
Trinity College, Cambridge. There he distinguished
himself as a cricketer, athlete, and boxer. Above the
middle height, with well-knit, powerful frame and a
singularly handsome face, every feature of which wore
the stamp of aristocratic birth and breeding, Ix>rd
Stamford was one of the most attractive and remarkable
figures among the undergraduates of his time. His
career at Cambridge was short, but it was unfortunately
long enough to affect very seriously his after life. For
he formed an attachment there to the daughter of a
" gvP " at Trinity, a man who had been a shoemaker by
trade, and he married her soon after he came of age —
a mesalliance which, fortunately for his happiness, was
terminated by the death of his wife six years after
the marriage.

He was not the first nor the last of his race whose
marriage was unfortunate. Nearly two hundred years
before, his ancestor, the second Earl, narrowly escaped
a tragic death at the hands of his justly infuriated
spouse. This Lady Stamford was a famous beauty
whose charms have been immortalised by the brush of
Lely. In a MS. satire in verse, entitled "The Ladies'
Mask," which bears date February isth, 1681, some of
her peculiarities are thus hit off by the satirist :

Stamford's Countess led the van,
Tallest of the caravan —
She who nere wants white or red,
Nor just pretence to keep her bed.

The Countess, however, was not to blame for the
differences between herself and her husband. He

598 ifctncid of tbe 1Rofct IRtfle, an£> Gun

appears to have treated her so disgracefully that she
separated from him ; before doing so, however, she
purposely set fire to the room in which the Earl was
sleeping, in the hope that he might be suffocated in his
sleep. But the desperate act had consequences which she
did not foresee — the whole mansion was soon in flames,
and she had considerable difficulty in escaping with her
infant daughter Diana. Her husband was rescued from
the funeral pyre she had lighted for him, but the fine
old house of Bradgate was burned to the ground, and
remains a roofless ruin to this day. It was an historic
pile, for there the ill-fated Lady Jane Grey, the nine-
days' Queen who is one of the most pathetic figures in
English history, passed her youth. It was here that her
gentle tutor Aylmer opened to her the treasures of the
ancient world, and unlocked for her the literature of
Greece and Rome, in which she proved so apt a student
that no woman of her time was a more perfect mistress
of the classic tongues. It was here that Roger Ascham
found her reading Plato's " Phaedo " while the rest of the
family were hunting in the park. And, laying down
her book, she confided to the gifted and sympathetic
scholar, who was the beloved preceptor of Queen Bess's
youth, how cruel and spiteful her parents and sisters
were— for ever punishing the slightest defects in deport-
ment or mistakes in embroidery " with pinches, nips,
and bobs." Master Ascham never forgot the impression
which her beauty, her learning, and her sweet temper
left upon him.

It was under far different circumstances that he next
saw her — when she walked into the Guildhall on that

ZTbc Earl of StamforD 599

gloomy November morning, "wearing a black gown
clothe, a French hood all black, a black velvet book
hanging before her, and another book in her hand
open," to plead guilty to the indictment of high tre.i
brought against her, and hear the doom of death passed
upon her. Who that has ever visited the Tower of
London has not felt his heart touched as he called up
the picture of the young bride, gazing with eyes wide
open with horror on the bleeding corpse of her dead
husband, as she passed it on her way to the scaffold
where a few minutes later her own fair head fell beneath
the headsman's axe.

Bradgate was of all his seats the one which the
seventh Earl of Stamford liked best, and there he built
himself a stately home worthy of the romantic and
picturesque surroundings, the exquisite blending of rock
and river, rugged heath and wooded glen, which make
it one of the most beautiful demesnes in the Midlands
of England.

Bradgate Park had been from time immemorial a great
sporting Chase. The place was formerly parcel of the
manor of Groby, and belonged at an early period to
Hugh Grentesmainell, from whom it passed, by marriage,
to Robert Blanchmains, Earl of Leicester, and after-
wards, by marriage again, to Saher de Quency, Earl
of Winton. A park was here in 1247, when Roger
de Quency, Earl of Winton, granted permission, by
written agreement, to Roger de Somcry, to " enter at
any hour on the forest of him, the earl, to chace in it
(ad versandum) with nine bows and six hounds, accord-
ing to the form of a cyrograph before made between

6oo ikinas of tbe 1Ro&, IRifle, anfc Gun

the aforesaid Roger, Earl of Winton, and Hugh de
Albaniaco, Earl of Arundel, in the court of the Lord
the King at Leicester. And if any wild beast, wounded
by any of the aforesaid bows, shall enter the aforesaid
park by any deer-leap, or otherwise, it shall be lawful
for the aforesaid Roger de Somery and his heirs to
send one man, or two of his, who shall follow the
aforesaid wild beast, with the dogs pursuing that wild
beast, within the aforesaid park, without bow and
arrows, and may take it on the day whereon it was
wounded, without hurt of other wild beasts in the
aforesaid park abiding ; so that if they be footmen
they shall enter by some deep-leap, or hedge ; and if
they be horsemen they shall enter by the gate, if it be
open ; and otherwise shall not enter before they wind
their horn for the keeper, if he will come."

Under the seventh Earl of Stamford Bradgate
became one of the most famous game-preserves in
England or the world. Some of the largest bags
on record have been made there. Lord Walsingham,
in the Badminton volume on " Field and Covert
Shooting," gives the following results of two days'
pheasant-shooting there in December, 1861 : " First day,
with thirteen guns — hares, 193; rabbits, 267 ; pheasants,
736; woodcocks, 7; various, 3; total, 1,206. Second
day— hares, 173; rabbits, 190; pheasants, 1,605 J wood-
cocks, 26 ; various, 3 ; total, 1,997. And on one day in the
same week 3,333 rabbits, besides 26 head of other game,
were killed by thirteen guns. This number of rabbits
has only lately been exceeded— in 1883 and 1885— by
3,684 and 5,086, with nine guns, on Mr. R. J. Lloyd

ZTbc iSarl of Stamfort 601

Price's property at Rhiwlas, in \orth Wales. Of the
latter number no less than 920 were killed by Earl
de Grey, whose skill with the gun is known to all
sportsmen.

But the remarkable feature about the big bags at
Bradgate was that they were made in muzzle-loading
days. For Lord Stamford was comparatively slow in
taking to the new-fangled breech-loader, which has so
completely revolutionised shooting both in sport and
war. The difference which the breech-loader made in
the slaughter may be gathered by comparing the bags I
have already given with those recorded in 1864, when
Lord Stamford and his guests had discarded the muzzle-
loader for the new weapon. On four consecutive days,
January 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th, 1864, thirteen guns killed
8,900 head of game at Bradgate Park. The chief items
in the total were 4,045 pheasants, 3,902 rabbits, and 860
hares. On two of these days respectively 1,822 and
1,195 pheasants were killed. The largest bag for a single
day was 3,102, but it consisted chiefly of rabbits, of which
2,534 were shot. The greatest day's sport, however, that
Bradgate Park ever produced was on the occasion of one
of the Prince of Wales's visits, when the bag numbered
4,444 head, nearly half of which were pheasants.

But Lord Stamford's charming place in Staffordshire,
Enville Hall, the beautiful gardens of which were thrown
open to the public five days a week, was not far behind
Bradgate in the sport it provided, though of a different
kind. Partridges were, and I suppose I may say are
still, the speciality of Enville, and no sportsman of his
day better understood the art of driving partridges than

602 Ifcin0s of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, ant) (Bun

Lord Stamford, " not even," says Lord Walsingham,
" another master of the system, General John Hall. On
the heavy clay soils at Enville, in Staffordshire, the
results he achieved were really marvellous. Lord
Stamford was well aware of the use to which fresh-
ploughed land could be put for the purpose of breaking
birds. Coveys running on such land are sure to become
scattered. The soil clogs the feet of the birds, so that
instead of rising all together they crouch singly in the
furrows and allow the drivers to approach before flying
forward. ... As an example of what was done upon
the heavy clay soil of Staffordshire by driving and by
exceptionally good management, it may be mentioned
that in the middle of January, 1869, eleven guns killed
on Lord Stamford's estates at Enville 557 partridges in
one day and 615 in another, and the Game Books of that
estate, if referred to, would probably show that these
numbers have been exceeded on other occasions."

Lord Stamford's greatest personal exploit as a game-
shot was achieved at Enville, when he brought down to
his own gun in a single day 176^ brace of partridges
(353 head). The morning was wet and thick, and most
of the birds were killed in the afternoon. Had the day
been better Lord Stamford could easily have bagged
200 brace. It is noteworthy that every one of these
birds was full-grown — there was not a "cheeper"
among them. On another occasion he killed 156^
brace in one day ; and as early as 1855, when big bags
were rare, Lord Stamford killed to his own gun at
Whittington, near Enville, 219 partridges, 7 hares,
4 landrails, and 3 rabbits, a total of 233 head of game,

tTbc Earl of Stamford <.o.;

in one September day— H foal which no one but Sir
Richard Sutton had then surpassed.

What Lord Stamford's best bag of grou own

gun was I have not been able to discover, but it is on
record that he killed 282 brace in three consecutive days
on his own moors at Ashton-under-Lymc.

The whole of that town, by the way, belonged t<
lordship, and there is a good story told of the seventh
Earl's grandfather in this connection. The old Earl had
acquired the whole of Ashton-under-Lyme with the
exception of one cottage, occupied by a Quaker, who
owned the freehold. Overtures were made to the
Quaker to sell — he was told that he might ask any
sum in reason and it would be paid. But sturdy
old Master Broadbrim refused all offers. The Earl
was piqued by this resistance, and went down himself
to see the stubborn freeholder. He offered to cover
every floor of the house with sovereigns if the Quaker
would sell. But the latter only smiled, shook his
head, and said, ' No, George ; thou canst not have it.
Ashton-under-Lyme belongs to me and tfue ; so
long as it's that way thou and I are equal, and I
wouldn't have it otherwise." But on the death of the
sturdy, independent old Quaker, who loved to boast
that he and the Earl of Stamford owned Ashton-under-
Lyme between them, his lordship found his heir more
complaisant, the freehold was purchased, and " George "
was absolute monarch of the town.

With the rifle the seventh Earl was not less deadly
than with the gun. His unerring eye and great powers
of endurance made him one of the most successful

604 Ifcfnas ot tbe 1Rob, IRtfle, anfc <&utt

deer-stalkers of his time, and the long array of splendid
heads in the morning-room at Bradgate proved his
prowess among the " tall stags " of Aviemore.

It is, of course, mainly with Lord Stamford as a
" King of the Rifle and Gun " that I am concerned here,
but to the general public he was best known through his
connection with the Turf. Both his grandfather and
great-grandfather had bred and run racehorses, and the
seventh Earl inherited their taste for horseflesh. It was
to accommodate his lordship's string of racers that
Joseph Dawson, acting as his private trainer, moved in
1863 from Heath House to Bedford Lodge, where a
range of stabling had been built with paddocks, loose
boxes, and a home farm adjoining, the like to which, for
perfection of arrangement and magnificence of outlay,
neither Newmarket nor any other training quarters in
the world could show. Lord Stamford was not such a
reckless plunger as his contemporary the Marquis of
Hastings, but he did mad things sometimes, as, for
example, when Joseph Dawson brought out his first two-
year-old — a filly named Cellina — for the Althorp Park
Stakes, and just as the flag fell his lordship calmly told
Dawson that he had backed the filly almost at evens
against the field for £10,000. Joe was aghast at the
news, and his heart was in his mouth till, after a
beautifully ridden race, Edwardes, who fortunately knew
nothing of Lord Stamford's bet, steered Cellina first past
the judge's box by a head. He began his Turf career well
by winning the One Thousand with Lady Augusta, but,
though he had at one time as many as fifty-eight horses in
training, Lord Stamford was never lucky in his racing.

ITbe Earl of Stamforfc 605

Perhaps the best horse he ever owned was Diophantns,
and he was shamefully robbed over that horse by those
who induced him to back his stable companion Imaus
heavily, when they knew that the latter stood no chance
against Diophantus. It was not surprising that after
this Lord Stamford's faith in the honour and honesty of
racing-men was severely shaken ; in fact, he trusted no
one, but from that time forward was haunted by a
suspicion that everyone wanted to "do" him. It was
this suspicious craze which brought about his rupture
with Joseph Dawson after Limosina's defeat in the
Cambridgeshire and Cesarewitch, and at a later date
caused unpleasantness between him and John Porter, as
honest a man as there is in England, over Geheimniss
when, after her brilliant victory in the Oaks, she failed to
win the St. Leger.

In the hunting-field Lord Stamford was more fortu-
nate than on the Turf. On the lamented death of
Sir Richard Sutton, Mr. John Storey, a well-known
Leicestershire sportsman, was deputed to offer the
Mastership of the Quorn to Lord Stamford, who was
then hunting the Albrighton country. " My lord,
Mr. Storey, when he met Lord Stamford, " I come with
full powers to offer you the first hunting country in
the world. Leicestershire wants a Master, and it is
determined, with your permission, to have Lord Stam-
ford." His lordship hesitated a moment. At last he
said : " But I can't cast off the Albrighton like an old
shoe, though I should like above all things to accept."
Mr. Storey, however, was a born diplomatist. He
overcame all his lordship's objections, and came

606 ifcinas ot tbe 1Rot>, IRtfle, an& Gun

with Lord Stamford's written promise to take the
Mastership of the Quorn in his pocket.

With a reputed income of £100,000, though ;£6o,coo
was probably nearer the mark, Lord Stamford could
afford to do the thing handsomely. He took no
subscription, and his reign as Master of the Quorn
was marked by a magnificence which threw even Sir
Richard Sutton's lavish outlay into the shade. Indeed,
the annals of the Hunt can show nothing more splendid
than the eight years' mastership of Lord Stamford.
The horses ridden by himself and his hunt servants
were the best ever seen in Leicestershire, and the
average of nearly two hundred guineas for seventy-three
lots at Lord Stamford's sale, on his retirement in 1863,
was an eloquent tribute to his judicious selection in
horseflesh.

But whilst caprice marred and shortened Lord
Stamford's enjoyment of racing and hunting, no such
feeling ever affected his love of shooting. To that
sport he remained constant all his days, and from it
he derived the greatest pleasure he had in life. For
he came of a race that was never renowned for intellect.
Sportsmen and soldiers the Greys always were, but
you may search in vain among them for men of brains
or learning. And to do Lord Stamford justice, he
never pretended to be anything but a sportsman—
the straightest man to hounds, the master of every
fowling-piece he took in hand. In his second marriage
Lord Stamford was so far fortunate that he gained
a wife who could sympathise with him in his love of
sport. The second Countess was a Miss Katherine

JEarl of Stamford 607

Cocks, the daughter of a livery-stable keeper, and
though she could not boast of blue blood, she showed
herself admirably fitted to rule the mtnage at Bradgate
Park and Enville Hall. She was a fine and bold
horsewoman. Much scandal was caused by a challenge
purporting to come from her ladyship, to ride against
any woman in England for £500, which appeared in
the sporting papers. Lord Stamford, however, wrote
indignantly denying that any such challenge had ever
emanated from the Countess, and offering a reward
for the discovery of the perpetrator of this malicious
libel upon Lady Stamford. I do not know that the
reward was ever claimed, or that the real issuer of the
challenge was ever discovered.

The Countess took the deepest interest in her
husband's racing establishment at Newmarket The
stable-lads were her special care. She looked after
their morals and education with maternal solicitude —
had them down to Bradgate in the winter, and did
all in her power to make them happy and comfortable.
At Groby, Enville, Dunham, Newmarket she made her
influence felt, and was beloved as an ideal " Lady
Bountiful."

Lord Stamford himself was one of the most kind-
hearted of men, and though too shy and reserved ever
to be generally popular, he won the affection of all
with whom he was brought into close contact. He
tried to be a good steward of his magnificent fortune,
and on the whole he succeeded. He gave public parks
to the people of Ashton and Wolvcrhampton ; he
founded and endowed libraries and museums ; his purse

608 ifctngs of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, an& (Bun

was open to every call. I have already mentioned his
generosity in throwing open his beautiful gardens and
grounds at Enville Hall to the public for five days in
the week. And he also admitted the public to the
charming cricket-ground, which he had laid out at
great expense — the prettiest and most perfect pitch in
England. There his neighbours of all classes had the
opportunity given them of seeing matches in which
the finest professional cricketers in the kingdom took
part. Jackson, Bickley, Tinley, Brampton, Willsher,
Brown, George Parr were for years practically re-
tainers of Lord Stamford's, and old Lillywhite had
his home at Enville during the latter part of his life,
with a handsome pension from the Earl. In fact, Lord
Stamford was the Maecenas of cricket in the Midlands,
as Lord Sheffield has been in the South of England ;
and not by any means the least enjoyable part of the
delightful matches at Enville Hall was the genuine
enthusiasm which the Earl's tremendous slogging used
to evoke when he handled the willow, for, as I have
said, there was no cleaner and harder hitter among
the amateurs of his day.

But the Fates were unkind to Lord Stamford towards
the close of his life. He was struck down with illness
when he was but little over fifty, and though a prolonged
tour abroad restored his health to a certain extent, he
was never the same man again. Amongst all the
splendours of Enville and Bradgate he lived the life of
an anchorite, and his handsome face wore a tinge of
melancholy and depression which was too surely the
index of his mind. His natural reserve, always more

ZTbe Earl of Stamford

or less apparent, now deepened, and there were times
when he became almost morose in his gloom. But he
brightened when the shooting season drew near, and the
sport he loved never failed, for a while at any rate, to
dispel his melancholy. Indirectly it was his love of
sport that brought about his death. In the August of
1882 he went up to his Scottish shooting-lodge at
Aviemore Forest, near Glen more, for grouse-shooting
and deer-stalking. He had built a new wing to the lodge
during the summer, and took up his quarters in th it
portion of the house. Unfortunately, the walls were not
yet dry, and Lord Stamford caught a severe cold, which
was followed by an attack of typhoid fever. He
recovered, however, sufficiently to appear at Newmarket
for the First October, but he looked a wreck,
and his frame was obviously so weakened that any
further illness must prove fatal. He went back to
Bradgate a doomed man, for he was seized with
pleuro-pneumonia, which affected both lungs, the left
arm, and both sides of his body. He endured some
weeks of great pain till death released him on January
2nd, 1883, within four days of the completion of his
fifty-sixth year.

Lord Stamford had no issue by either marriage, and
on his death two of his titles, Earl of Warrington and
Baron Delamere, became extinct ; the other two, Earl of
Stamford and Lord Grey of Groby, with the estates
attached thereto, went to an eccentric cousin who had
settled in South Africa. The eighth Earl, however,
never took the trouble to come home and claim his
inheritance. Civilised society had no attractions for

VOL. II. 1 8

610 iktnas of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, an& Gun

him. He had married as his third or fourth wife a
Hottentot woman, and probably did not care to bring
to England the only lady of colour who has ever had
the right to style herself an English Countess. But
neither by her nor by any of his other wives did he
leave legitimate issue, and on his decease in 1890 the
title and estates went begging till claimed by a distant
relative, William Grey, then Professor of Classics and
Philosophy at Codrington College, Barbadoes. Mr.
Grey, who is an M.A. of Oxford, established his claim
to the satisfaction of the House of Lords, and is now
ninth Earl of Stamford. An heir was born in 1896, the
present Lord Grey of Groby, and there is therefore good
prospect of the title once more descending in direct
succession. The present Earl's tastes incline rather to
religion than sport — he was admitted into the Order of
Diocesan Readers by the Bishop of London shortly
after his accession to the title ; but sooner or later one
may confidently expect that the hereditary sporting
instincts of the Greys will crop up again, and Bradgate
and Enville will once more be names as famous among
sportsmen as they were under the brilliant reign of
the seventh Earl.

Landseer and Millais

I HAVE already given one example of the artist as
sportsman in the person of the great sculptor Sir
Francis Chantrey, whose enthusiasm for sport both with
rod and gun was scarcely inferior to his enthusiasm
for the art which has made him famous. I should not,
however, be doing justice to the important part which
sport has played in the lives of some great artists if
I omitted from these pages the names of the two most
popular, and perhaps the two most famous, English
painters of the Victorian era, Sir Edwin Landseer and
Sir John Everett Millais.

With how many picturesque episodes in Highland
sport has not the brush of Landseer made us familiar?
" The Monarch of the Glen," " The Return from Deer-
stalking," " The Sanctuary," " The Random Shot," and
innumerable pictures of noble hounds, have proved how
keen was the great animal-painter's sense both of the
picturesque and the pathetic in sport. It is mostly,
however, with the incidents of sport in the Highlands of
Scotland that Landseer has concerned himself.

His first visit to the Highlands was made in 1824.

611

6i2 ikinas of tbe 1Rofc, TCffle, anb Gun

Leslie and he went in the London and Leith steamer.
They visited Glasgow, and Loch Lomond, and Loch
Katrine, and crossed the mountains on foot to Loch
Earn, in order to be present at an annual meeting
of Highlanders, held under the patronage of Lord
Gwydyr, which included performances on the bag-pipes,
dancing, broadsword exercise, and the like Gaelic
pastimes ; the painters traversed Loch Earn in a large
row-boat, with Highland rowers, who told them, says
Leslie, in his Autobiography, stories of the fairies who
haunted the shores.

They also visited Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford, and
to that visit was due the well-known " Scene at
Abbotsford," by Landseer, whilst from it he derived
inspiration for many other Highland pictures. After
this period he rarely failed to visit the north annually,
and the catalogue of his works bears evidence of his
studies there.

I think that Landseer was first inoculated with a
taste for sport by that enthusiastic sportsman William
Scrope, whose constant companion he was in the grand
deer-forest of Atholl, and whose works he enriched
with many spirited illustrations of adventures with
gun and rifle. Under Scrope's mentorship he learned
to handle the rifle and rod with dexterity, and ob-
tained a fair mastery of the arts of deer-stalking and
salmon-fishing.

But though Landseer was duly made a freeman of
the guild of sport, and could paint hounds, deer, fish,
ptarmigan, grouse, otters, hares, rabbits, as no one
has ever painted them before or since, he was never

CONNOISSEURS.

Xanfcseer an& /IDillais 613

so absorbed in sport as to forget his art. He was
always, even in the deer-forest or by the salmon-riven
the artist first, and the instincts of the sportsman
sometimes gave way at the most exciting moments
of the chase to those of the painter. Mr. F. G.
Stephens, in his Life of Landseer, gives the following
anecdote in illustration of this trait in the painter's
character :

" This story we obtain from a painter who, while
sketching in the Highlands, fell in with Ewen Cameron,
an old forest-keeper of Glencoe, who for more than
four-and-twenty years accompanied Landseer with the
sketch-book and the gun ; he had been with him from
his first shooting excursion, and described the knight
as but a poor shot at first, but one who improved as
he grew elder. He was, nevertheless, often laughed
at. But one day Sir Edwin had the laugh of all the
party, for, knowing that he was not the best of shots,
they had deliberately posted him where the herd was
not expected, * when/ as the old forester said, ' it so
happened that the greater number of the stags went
his way, and he just made by far the biggest bag of
the party ' ; in fact ' we found him surrounded with
dead stags lying all about.'

On another occasion the gillies were astonished,
just as a magnificent shot came in the way, to have
Sir Edwin's gun thrust into their hands, with ' Here,
take, take this,' hastily ejaculated, while the sketch
book was hastily pulled out. The gillies were often
disgusted by being led about the moors, walking, with
more sketching than shooting ; and they grumbled

614 Iktnas of tbe 1Ro&, IRifle, anfc <3un

dreadfully in their own tongue ; ' but,' said Ewen,
' Sir Edwin must have had some Gaelic in him, for it
made him that angry for the rest of the day, it made
them very careful of speaking Gaelic in his hearing
after/ "

But if Landseer were not as keen a sportsman as
the public, perhaps, gave him credit for being, he has
thrown a glamour of poetry over sport for which
sportsmen owe him an eternal debt of gratitude.
What sportsman has not felt his heart stirred as he
gazed at the noble, antlered head of " The Monarch of
the Glen " sniffing the morning air among the mountain
mists ? or at that magnificent stag in the " Scene in
Braemar," standing half wreathed in vapour on the
brow of the hill, bellowing defiance to his rivals, from
whom he has proudly carried off the group of does
that stand around him ? And who, whether he be
sportsman or not, has failed to feel the pathos of
"The Random Shot," where on the smooth snow,
untrodden save by her own footsteps, lies the dead
hind, that, mortally wounded by some careless shooter
firing into the herd, had strayed into this vast
snow-plain among the silent mountain-ridges to die,
followed by the innocent fawn, seeking in vain to obtain
its accustomed nourishment from the cold body of its
mother ?

It has been objected to Landseer that he humanised his
dogs too much and put into them an expression which,
clever though it be, is not canine. In " Dignity and
Impudence," "The Jack in Office," "Diogenes in his
Tub," and others of a similar character, this feature is

Xanfceccr anfc /HMllats 615

carried to an extreme only paralleled by Mr. Stacey
Marks's wonderful birds. Mr. Marks invests his
penguins, storks, and puffins with a humour which
is purposely human, because he makes them the
vehicle for his delicate satire. But I think that
Landseer was unable to paint a dog without putting
a human expression into its face, even when he had
no such deliberate intention, and to a true lover ot
dogs for their own sake this habit of his detracts from
the fidelity of his canine portaits. But who has ever
painted a dog's coat as Landseer has done ? The
minute exactness of every hair is marvellous. Take,
for example, his spaniels in " Spaniels of King Charles's
Breed " and " Spaniel and Rabbit " — every glossy curl is
perfect. Of the first of these pictures, now in the
Vernon Collection, bequeathed to the National Gallery,
Mr. F. G. Stephens, in his Life of Landseer, gives the
following interesting particulars :

" The dogs were pets of Mr. Vernon's, and the sketch
was made in his house, as a commission to Landseer,
but, after a short sitting, not continued for some time.
One day Mr. Vernon met the artist in the street, and
reminded him of the commission. Two days later the
work as it now appears was delivered at Mr. Vernon's
house, although it was not begun when the meeting
happened. It is due to not more than two days'
labour, and is a triumph in brush-working, showing as
much facility as the ancient fresco painters exhibited
when they dealt with and completed an important head
of a man in one day."

Equally extraordinary are the subjoined instances

616 iktn^s of tfoe 1Rob, IRifle, an& (Bun

of Landseer's marvellous combination of rapidity in
execution with felicity and skill. Mr. Redgrave writes :

" In the collection of the late Mr. Wells, of Redleaf,
among many other works by this artist [Landseer]
are two which are particularly illustrative of this quality ;
one is a spaniel rushing out of a thicket with a wounded
rabbit. The rabbit and dog are the size of life, they
have the fullest appearance of completeness, yet the
picture was painted in two hours and a half. The other
picture is of a fallow deer, and of the size of life, painted
down to the knees. Mr. Wells used to relate that on
leaving the house to go to Penshurst Church, the panel
for this picture was being placed on the easel by his
butler, and on his return in about three hours the
painting was complete ; so complete, indeed, that it is
more than doubtful if equal truth of imitation could
have resulted from a more prolonged and laborious
execution."

This picture was exhibited in the Royal Academy,
1874. Finally, as to this astonishing facility in
painting, let me state that in the National Portrait
Exhibition of 1868 was a portrait of the second
Lord Ashburton, a three-quarters view, painted on a
canvas thirty-six inches high by twenty-eight inches
wide, and said to have been executed, like " Odin," in
one sitting. Of course it is not highly finished. But as
a vigorous sketch, the thinking and power of execution
involved in such rapid production are marvellous. The
picture "Spaniel and Rabbit," referred to above and shown
at the Manchester Art Treasures Exhibition, was in-
scribed by the artist, " painted in two hours and a half."

Xanfcsecr anfc /IDlllate 617

But by far the most amazing instance of Landsccr's
technical powers is that given by the late Mr. Solomon
Hart, R.A. A large party was assembled one evening
at the house of a gentleman in the upper ranks of
London <( Society " ; crowds of ladies and gentlemen of
distinction were present, including Landseer, who was,
as usual, a lion ; a large group gathered about the sofa
where he was lounging ; the subject turned on dexterity
and facility in feats of skill with the hand. No
doubt the talk was ingeniously led in this direction
by some who knew that Sir Edwin could do
wonders of dexterous draughtsmanship, and were not
unwilling to see him draw, but they did not expect
what followed. A lady, lolling back on a settee, and
rather tired of the subject, as ladies are apt to become
when conversation does not appeal to their feelings or
their interests, exclaimed, after many instances of
manual dexterity had been cited, " Well, there is one
thing nobody has ever done, and that is, draw two
things at once." She had signalised herself by quashing
a subject of conversation, and was about to return to
her most becoming attitude, when Landseer said, " Oh,
I can do that; lend me two pencils, and I will show
you." The pencils were got, a piece of paper was laid
on the table, and Sir Edwin, a pencil in each hand,
drew simultaneously, and without hesitation, with one
hand the profile of a stag's head and all its antlers
complete, and with the other the perfect profile of a
horse's head. Both drawings were full of energy and
spirit, and although, as the occasion compelled, not
finished, they were, together and individually, quite as

618 ikfnas of tbe 1Rot>, iRffle, an& Gun

good as the master was accustomed to produce with
his right hand alone ; the drawing by the left hand
was not inferior to that by the right.

But there came a pathetic and mournful end to this
brilliant career. In his closing days Landseer's intellect
was clouded — the facile hand lost its cunning, the active
brain grew torpid, and death mercifully came to spare
his admirers the spectacle of a mind hopelessly wrecked.
Mr. F. G. Stephens thus describes the first premonitions
of this calamity :

" I remember him during the painting of this picture
[' A Flood in the Highlands '] on the Tuesday before
it was sent to the Academy — putting a few touches
on the canvas. He looked as if about to become old,
although his age by no means justified the notion ;
it was not that he had lost activity or energy, or
that his form had shrunk, for he moved as firmly and
swiftly as ever ; indeed he was rather demonstrative,
stepping on and off the platform in his studio with
needless display, and his form was stout and well filled.
Nevertheless, without seeming to be overworked, he
did not look robust, and he had a nervous way remark-
able in so distinguished a man, one who was usually
by no means unconscious of himself, and yet, to those
he liked, full of kindness. The wide green shade which
he wore above his eyes projected straight from his
forehead, and cast a large shadow on his plump,
somewhat livid features, and in the shadow one saw
that his eyes had suffered. The grey ' Tweed' suit
and its sober trim, a little emphatically ' quiet/ marked
the man ; so did his stout, not fat nor robust figure.

Xanfcseer an& /UMllate 619

Rapid movements, and utterances that glistened with
prompt remarks, sharp, concise, with quick humour,
but not seeking occasions for wit, and imbued through-
out with a perfect frankness distinguished the man.
Even in 1867 there was little outward change, although
not long after that date the attacks of nervous
depression occurred with fewer and briefer intervals."

Sir Edwin Landseer died on October 1st, 1873. To
judge from the prices which his pictures have fetched
at recent sales, his fame has rather increased than
diminished, and certainly we have had no animal-painter
to take his place. Nor is there any artist on whom his
mantle has fallen as a portrayer of the picturesque and
poetic side of the field sports which are dear to so many
hundreds of his countrymen.

Sir John Everett Millais, though sport does not enter
into his art as much as it did into Landseer's, was a
far greater sportsman than the famous animal-painter.
From his boyhood he was a devoted angler. When
his father lived in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square,
John and his brother William would start at daybreak,
when they had a holiday, tramp off to Hornsey for
a day's fishing in the New River, and walk back
when their sport was over. No one who looked at
his fine, stalwart figure in the prime of life would have
guessed that Millais had been a delicate boy ; but so
it was, and he owed the strength and vigour of his
manhood to long autumn holidays of sport among the
breezes of moor and mountain.

In appearance, as everyone who saw him will

620 ifctnas of tbe 1Rofc, IRtfle, an& Gun

remember, Sir John Millais had nothing of the con-
ventional artist about him, but looked the beau-ideal
of a jolly, sporting country gentleman. A good story
is told of this deceptive appearance of his. He went
one day to a noted phrenologist named Donovan to
have his character told from his bumps. Donovan, who
was a shrewd man, had round his room busts of eminent
men, to whom he would draw the attention of those
who came to consult him, often gathering from their
remarks all that he wished to know about them. But
Millais was not to be drawn. " Who is the old cock ? "
he asked when Donovan pointed to a bust of Daniel
Maclise. At the end of the interview Donovan drew
up the character of his visitor, and described him as
a shrewd man of business, with a great taste for mathe-
matics, but utterly deficient in imagination, and in
everything that goes to the making of an artist ; had
no sense of colour, for example —could probably not
tell pink from green. " Do you know who I am ? "
roared the outraged painter, shaking the paper in
Donovan's face. " I am Millais." Donovan tried to
get the paper back, but the libelled and indignant
artist insisted upon carrying it away as a triumphant
proof of the humbug of phrenology.

Amongst Millais' early friends was John Leech, who
initiated him into the mysteries of hunting. In later
days Millais returned the compliment by introducing
Leech to the joys of salmon-fishing, deer-stalking, and
grouse-shooting. Mr. John Guille Millais, in his charming
Life of his father, tells the following good story of Leech's
first experience with a salmon :

Xanfcseer atto /HMUais 621

" For some days Leech sat patiently in a boat, hoping
that some feeble-minded fish would be tempted to come
and hook itself as the fly dangled carelessly from his
rod, and at last he had his reward. Just below the
dyke at Stanley the line suddenly straightened ; Leech
snatched up the rod, and away went a clean-run
25-poundcr with the hook in his gills ! Then the
struggle began, and great excitement for the fishermen,
as this bit of Stanley Water is a rough place, full of
rushing streams and deep holes, in which are sharp
shelving rocks, from which the quarry must be got
away at once, or he would certainly cut the line.

After allowing him one good run, Leech scrambled
out amongst the rocks and stones of the Stobhall shore
and the fish, making straight down stream, dragged him
helter-skelter over boulders and through bushes till he
was nearly at his last gasp. Then luckily for him the
salmon retreated into ' The Devil's Hole,' and sulked
there for half an hour. The angler recovered breath,
and ultimately, at the bottom of Stanley Water, my
father gaffed the fish, to the great delight of ' Mr.
Briggs,' as subsequently portrayed in Punch'.'

For Leech was the original of his own inimitable
Mr. Briggs, whose side-splitting adventures as a sports-
man were but exaggerated versions of incidents which
had happened to the artist himself in his pursuit of
sport.

After his marriage Millais made Scotland his happy
hunting-ground, where every autumn saw him revelling
in the delights of grouse-shooting, deer-stalking, and
salmon-fishing.

622 ifcfitQS of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, anfc (Bun

In 1866 Millais rented from Sir William Cunliffe
Brooks the shootings of Callander and a small part
of Glen Artney, immortalised in the " Lady of the
Lake." As a specimen of the sport he had there
during his fifteen years' tenancy, I quote the following
passage from Mr. John Guille Millais :

" During this period (1867-1871) he enjoyed excellent
deer-stalking on Braemore, Fannich, Loch Luichart,
Dunrobin, and Loch More. Many splendid stags, in-
cluding five royals, fell to his rifle. Some of his best
and most exciting stalks were on Braemore. There
is a capital sketch by him in the game-book at that
house, in which he appears standing over two fine harts
that he had killed right and left after a long and
exciting stalk. But it was of his pursuit of a big
ten-pointer on Loch Luichart that he was most fond
of talking. The weather had been cold and wet, which
as all sportsmen know, keeps deer constantly on the
alert, and for three days he had stalked the ten-pointer
without getting a shot. At last they found him in
company with a herd of fifty other deer, and amongst
them an eight-pointer, very nearly as good as the other
fellow. They were feeding near the head of a big
corrie ; but getting a puff of wind from one of the
back eddies, they all made off along a pass well known
to the stalker. However, a sharp piece ol manoeuvring
and a quick run enabled the shooters to cut them off,
and with two shots Millais killed both the big stags
as they came galloping by at full speed.

He was now so successful with the rifle that his
friend Joe Jopling, a member of the English eight,

Xaitoseer anfc /nMHais 623

frequently urged him to shoot at Wimbledon, antici-
pating great things of him there ; but neither target
shooting nor public display was to his taste, so he
never entertained the idea.

From Braemore he went on to Loch More, for
stalking and salmon-fishing, as a guest of the Duke
of Westminster. And here a curious thing happened,
as mentioned in the Life of Joseph Wolf, the animal-
painter. Mr. Gould, the naturalist, who was also a
guest of the Duke's, when out fishing one day, landed
a salmon which he concealed in the bracken behind a
small bush. When he came to look for his fish it
was nowhere to be found, and after a long search
he began to think the keepers had purloined it. They,
however, laid the blame on the cows, suggesting that
they had eaten it. The idea was scoffed at by every
sportsman in the house, and to prove its absurdity a
fresh salmon was brought from the larder and put
in the same field, when to the astonishment of the
scoffers, the cows promptly marched up and devoured
it. ' Credat Judceus ! ' was the reply whenever my
father told this story ; but nowadays most naturalists
are well aware that salmon or any other fish are readily
eaten by ruminants."

In 1 88 1 Millais became the tenant of Murthley,
which he has immortalised on canvas, and which for
fourteen years was his Scottish home. There was fine
fishing in Murthley Water, and Millais killed some very
big fish there. Concerning one of these Lord James
of Hereford tells the following story. It was a
fish of 42 Ibs., caught towards the end of a chill

624 1fcfn0s of tbe 1Rofc, 1Rtflet anfc (Bun

October day after a very long fight. Immediately
after the fish was landed Millais began to consult
with Lord James as to who should be the recipient
of this noble prize. At last Millais exclaimed, " It
shall go to the best fellow I know, and that is Lord
Granville." So that night the magnificent salmon
was despatched to the Foreign Secretary. But no
acknowledgment came, and Millais, whose pride was
hurt, thought that his present was not appreciated,
and would make no inquiry concerning the fate of
the fish. In the following spring Lord Granville was
told how proud Millais had been to send him an almost
record fish, and how disappointed he was at receiving
no acknowledgment. It then transpired that when
the fish was unpacked the label which bore the sender's
name had been destroyed by the cook. Lord Granville,
anxious to find out who was the donor, wrote to most
of his friends whom he knew to possess salmon-fishings,
but the only result was that they regarded his letters
as a diplomatic hint that a large salmon in prime
condition would be regarded in Carlton Terrace as
an acceptable present.

The capture of another and a bigger fish is thus
narrated by Mr. John Guille Millais :

" And here, with many apologies to the reader, I
must bring myself into this narrative. As all fisher-
men know there is in every big stretch of water, a
master fish, generally an old male, which annually
comes up from the sea, and locating himself behind
some big stone, keeps off all other fish about his own
size. Such an one for several years frequented the

Xanfcsccr anfc /HMllate 625

great black pool opposite Miller's house, and every
device was tried to catch him, but in vain. My father
tried and Miller tried, and at last I tried, my father
kindly lending me his boat one afternoon, while he
contented himself with looking on. Now this piece of
water is about the most difficult cast on the Tay,
requiring a very long line and a lot of patience to
fish it successfully ; but this was what my father could
not stand, as a mere spectator with no hand in the
game, so at the first sign of impatience I handed him
the rod, and on the third cast he was into what was
evidently a monster. My time was now up. I had
to fly to catch a train for Cambridge, but two days
later I had a letter from him telling me he had caught
the 'calf/ a grand, clean-run fish of forty-four pounds,
after a fight of an hour and a half. Delightful news
this, told in the writer's happiest vein, to which I replied
that next year I would fish that water with him, and
catch a bigger one. Well, towards the end of 1890,
I was fishing there with my father, when on my second
cast behind the big stone, the line was straightened,
and I had hold of another big 'calf.' There was no
doubt as to his size for we had a fine view of him
as he sprang out of the water after a run of a hundred
yards ; and though big fish seldom give interesting
play, this one fought like a lion for two hours and a
half. Even the powers of a ' calf ' however are limited,
and though he absolutely refused to come into the
shallows, we got the boat endways-on from the shore,
and after several attempts, Miller got home with his
cleek. There was a kick from the fish as he came
VOL. II. 19

626 ikings of tbe 1Rot>, IRffle, an& (Bun

over the gunwale, the gaff straightened, and the monster
was in the boat, whilst my father and I did a dance
of delight on the bank. This fellow weighed forty-six
pounds, the largest ever caught at Murthley."

Millais generally killed his fifty big fish at Murthley
every season, and " rain or shine," says his son, " nearly
every day when it was possible to fish saw the old
sportsman flagging away at his favourite pools. His
energy was extraordinary. Even a young man finds
it pretty hard work to throw twenty or thirty yards of
line on a nineteen-feet rod continuously for six or seven
hours together ; but he delighted in doing it, and hardly
ever gave up his rod to Miller (the fisherman) to cast
in his stead."

Mr. John Guille Millais' Life of his father contains
many capital stories of the great painter's prowess with
rod, rifle, and gun, for which I must direct the reader
to its charming pages, for it would be unfair to pilfer
more from it. One other quotation, however, I hope
the author will pardon me for making, and that is the
following description of Sir John Millais' last year's
sport in the autumn of 1895 :

"To me too on September ist my father wrote in
encouraging terms : — c I had excellent sport at Reiss,'
he says, ' killing to my own gun seventy brace of
driven birds. In four days we (six guns) got upwards
of 400 brace. Now I am keen on the fishing, which
ought to be good this year, as this last week has
been one continuous spate. To-morrow I ought to
be into them.'

One incident of this year is interesting. During the

Xanfcseer ant) rtMllats 627

winter a fallen tree had drifted down the river, and
settled itself in one of the best pools in Upper Stobhall.
One day Sir J. Wolfe Barry lost a good fish by running
on to it ; so my father gave orders for it to be cleared
away, and some two days afterwards, thinking that
his orders had been carried out, he lost there the
heaviest fish he had ever hooked — perhaps the largest
fish ever seen on the Tay. From his great experience
he knew that this monster was not foul-hooked, for
'the beast even when given all the strain I dare put
on, made me spin about like a teetotum.' After
worrying on for an hour and a half, it went full speed
up stream to the head of the pool, towing the angler
along the bank. Imagine his astonishment when at
this point the fisherman told him to keep the fish
clear of the sunken tree ! That was now impossible ;
the salmon went straight for it and broke the cast !
What happened then I leave to the imagination of
the reader. Suffice it that ever afterwards he spoke
of the incident as one of the keenest disappointments
of his life.

Writing to his brother William on October 1 3th, he
says : — ' To-morrow is my last day on the river where
I have worked like a slave, with indifferent success
considering the water, which has been nearly perfect
all the season. Somehow the fish wouldn't rise when
they were fresh, and first came up, and now they only
occasionally rise to a fly. Of course you will see in the
papers all sorts of reports about the fishing, but the truth
is there is general disappointment ; my number (with
one fish to-morrow) will be forty — your fish about the

628 ifcfnas of tbe 1RoD, raffle, ant) Gun

biggest. However the exercise has been of great benefit
to me and I never felt better, although my voice
continues feeble.' "

Never again was the great artist to whip the streams
or shoot over the moor. For when the next autumn
came John Everett Millais had passed " behind the
veil."

It is not for me to criticise his art ; but there will
never fade from my memory that long February day —
a day indeed to be marked with a white stone — which
I passed among his collected pictures in Burlington
House two years ago. There was with me on that
never-to-be-forgotten day an old friend whose wide
and varied artistic knowledge is supplemented by
a spirit of sympathy and reverence rarely found in
art-critics nowadays. What versatility and variety
there was among those 380 subjects — old men and
old women, young men and maidens and children,
youth and age— all touched with the same deft and
tender and faithful hand ! And the souls of them all in
their faces ! What knowledge of human character, what
penetrative vision into the human heart ! It was like
reading Shakespeare or Walter Scott to wander through
that romantic gallery. And then, what a subtle, sym-
pathetic insight into Nature ! She seemed to have
taken this loving and reverential son into her inmost
confidence, to have whispered to him her secrets and
revealed to him her mysteries. And everywhere, in
landscape, in portrait, in historic or domestic scene,
there was visible that fine, strong, healthy manhood
which found its vigorous expression in love of sport.

Xanfcseer an& rtMllais 629

It may be that Millais would not have been so great a
painter had he not been so keen a sportsman.

I am writing these concluding lines close by the scene
of one of Millais' most beautiful pictures, " The Blind
Girl," in that dear, delightful old Cinque Port -that
11 town in a trance," as Coventry Patmore happily called
it — Winchelsea. And I hope, therefore, that Mr. John
Guille Millais will pardon me for pointing out a curious
mistake into which he, in common with others, has fallen.
He tells us, and the same error appeared in the catalogue
issued at the time of the Millais Exhibition at Burlington
House, that the church in the background of " The Blind
Girl" is the old Priory Church of Icklesham. And
again, referring to " The Random Shot," he says : " The
tomb on which the child is lying is that of Gervaise
Allard (sic) Knight, one of the many beautiful works of
art still to be seen in the old Priory Church at
Icklesham." There is no " old Priory Church " at
Icklesham. The church in the background of " The
Blind Girl " is Winchelsea Church, where are the fine
tombs of the Alards, sometime Admirals of the Cinque
Ports. How this singular mistake originated I am at
a loss to conjecture. But I hope that in future editions
of Mr. Millais' Life of his father it will be corrected.

For it is not right that Icklesham should usurp the
fame due to Winchelsea. Icklesham has a charming old
church of its own with which I have many pleasant
associations. But for memories of Thackeray and
Millais the pilgrim must go to the antique Cinque Port.
Let him take his stand a bow-shot seawards beyond the
old Bridge Inn at the foot of the hill and look up the

630 ifcfnas of tbe TCofc, tRifle, an& (Bun

slopes towards the ivy-clad Strand Gate, and he will
see the triple chancel of the venerable, half-ruined Church
of St. Thomas a Becket and the steep road winding up
to the ancient town just as Millais saw them when he
elected to seat his "Blind Girl" on the green bank
below, and so gave the spot a pathetic and immortal
interest.

Some Wimbledon Heroes

As I sit down to-day to write my recollections of
Wimbledon it is odd to find history repeating itself
after the lapse of forty years. The country is all ablaze
with the same patriotic enthusiasm which brought the
Volunteers into existence in 1859, and gave rise to the
great National " Wapenschaw " which has ever since
been an annual institution. There is the same furore
for Rifle Clubs ; the newspapers teem with the same
earnest appeals to young Englishmen to cultivate
marksmanship ; town and village ring now as then with
the shouts of drill-sergeants and the tramp of train-
bands ; budding marksmen throng to the butts, and the
crack of rifles mingles with the click of bat and ball.

But what changes riflemen have seen in these forty
years ! I remember the introduction of the old Minic
rifle into the Army. I have shot with the cumbrous
weapon, and heard military men go into ecstasies over
its wonderful power as an arm of precision and
destruction. What tales were told of the awful havoc
wrought by the Mini6 bullet at Alma and Inkerman —
how whole files of Russians went down before it like

632 Iktngs of tbe 1Rofc, 1Rtflet anfc ©un

grass before the scythe ! Then came the Rnfield, which
completely eclipsed the Minie*. With that weapon in
their hands the English regulars and volunteers were
held to be as formidable as the terrible archers who won
Crecy and Agincourt with the long-bow. A marvellous
rifle indeed ! What an arm of precision at long ranges !
I remember the shooting of the Suffolk Volunteers for
the Ipswich Cup in September, 1860, five rounds at 650,
700, 800, and 900 yards. Out of sixty shots fired at the
900 yards range three struck the target ! The winner's
score was 12 points out of a possible 40 ! A wonderful
rifle, truly, was that long Enfield !

But to come to Wimbledon and its heroes. I wonder
how many there are still living of those who saw the
Queen fire the first shot, which opened the inaugural
meeting of the National Rifle Association, and score
a bull's-eye at 400 yards with the carefully laid and
sighted Whitworth. Sir John Charles Bucknill (he was
then only plain Doctor Bucknill, of the County Lunatic
Asylum at Exeter), the Father of modern Volunteering,
died but three years ago. I remember seeing his huge
form at that first Wimbledon meeting and hearing the
oft-told tale of the famous shot with which he inaugurated
the butts he had been allowed to erect on the estate of
the Earl of Devon. He missed the target, but he hit,
fortunately in a fleshy part of her person, an old woman
who was hoeing potatoes on the other side of the hill.
People lifted their hands in amazement at the miraculous
skill of these new riflemen who could hit objects they
could not see !

But though he was not a brilliant rifle-shot, Dr.

Some TKHtmblefcon t>eroea 633

Bucknill has the credit of establishing the first Volunteer
Corps known in England since the time of the
Napoleonic wars, for he, in conjunction with Dr. Pycroft,
founded the First Devon and Exeter Rifles as far back
as 1852. To the general public he was chiefly known in
his later days as an expert in lunacy, but it was for his
zealous services in connection with the Volunteer move-
ment that he was knighted in 1894. ms_son_Mr.
Justice Bucknill inherits the martial and sporting tastes
but not the colossal frame of his sire.

Then there was Hans Busk, whose name is still held
in high honour by the Victorias, for he reconstituted
them as a corps in 1858 and gave them the right to
call themselves the oldest Rifle Corps in the kingdom,
barring the Honourable Artillery Company, which can
trace its origin to the old City Train-bands. Hans
Busk did more perhaps than any other man, not even
excepting Sir John Bucknill, towards establishing our
present Volunteer Army. Whilst still an undergraduate
at Cambridge, as far back as 1838, he wrote pamphlets
urging the Government to sanction the formation of
Rifle Clubs, and used all his personal influence to rouse
an interest in the subject among the War Office officials.
Lord Melbourne, the then Premier, threw cold water
on the young enthusiast ; but that did not damp his
enthusiasm, for he established a model Rifle Club at
Cambridge^andjnade an earnest appeal to the country
to support the movement in his excellent little book
" The RJfle^and how to use it." He lectured all over
England on the subject dearest to his heart ; he
published pamphlets and manuals ; he spared neither

634 Ifctngs of tbe 1Rofc, IRffle, an& (Bun

time nor money to further his great object ; and at last,
in that memorable July of 1860 at Wimbledon, " he saw
of the travail of his soul and was satisfied." He has
been dead these eighteen years, but he lived long
enough to see the great movement which he had
inaugurated strike its roots deep and firm, and the
Volunteer Army of Great Britain become a permanent
and popular establishment.

And then there was the doyen of riflemen, Horatio
Ross, whose feats with gun and rifle on the moors,
among the stubbles, and in the deer-forest, I have
already recorded. Captain Ross was sixty years of age
when he came up to shoot at Wimbledon, and although
he had had plenty of practice at deer-stalking, had not
handled a rifle for target-shooting for more than five-
and-twenty years, and then under very different condi-
tions from those prevailing at the N.R. A. meetings. Yet
he took his place at once in the very front rank of
Wimbledon marksmen. He carried off the three great
small-bore prizes at long ranges — the Association Cup,
the Any Rifle Wimbledon Cup, and the Duke of
Cambridge's — for which all the crack shots of the day
competed. When he was in his sixty-sixth year he
wrote as follows to a friend : " I have begun my training
for the rifle season : I am shooting wonderfully well, all
things considered. Last week I tried the very long
distance of 1,100 yards, and made a better score than
is often made at that great range, seven bull's-eyes,
three centres, and five outers in fifteen shots." In June,
1867, I saw this wonderful veteran win the Cambridge
University Long Range Club's Cup at Cambridge

Some Mlmblefcon t>eroes 635

against all the best shots of the day, including his own
son Edward, the first winner of the Queen's Prize.
On that occasion he wound up his score with seven
consecutive bull's-eyes at 1,000 yards. His three
sons Edward, Colin, and Hercules were all first-rate
shots. Edward was, of course, the hero of the
Wimbledon meeting of 1860, and as the first winner
of the Queen's Prize will live for ever in the memories
of marksmen. Let us glance for a moment at the
scoring for the Blue Riband of Rifle-shooting on that
occasion. The first stage was shot at 300, 500, and
600 yards, five rounds at each range. Hits were not
then added to points — a bull's-eye counted three, a
centre two, an outer one at the short ranges. After
300 yards there was no bull's-eye, only centre and outer,
the former counting two, the latter one. The highest
possible score, therefore, for the Silver Medal was thirty-
five. The winner, Sharpe, scored seventeen, and Ross
was two points behind him. The weapon was the long
Enfield. In the final stage the competitors shot with
the Whitworth, muzzle-loading small-bore. The ranges
were 800, 900, and 1,000 yards, ten shots at each range,
and the highest possible was sixty points. Edward
Ross won with twenty-four points — six centres, eighteen
outers, six misses. The winner was a youth of eighteen,
the youngest marksman at Wimbledon, and this fact
helped to make him a hero in the eyes of the public.
For many years Edward Ross was a prominent shot,
and, though he was never again successful for the
Queen's Prize, carried off the Silver Medal in 1865
with forty-seven out of a possible sixty, after a tie

636 ifctnse of tbe 1Rob, TCtfle, an& <3un

with Captain Holme, of Somersetshire, and at one time
or another secured most of the important prizes at
Wimbledon. He shot no less than fifteen times in the
Scottish eight for the Elcho Shield.

Those who saw his erect and stalwart form in later
years would hardly have recognised the slim stripling
of 1860. He was a very majestic and haughty person
in his mien. To see him stride up the centre of Trinity
Chapel with the slow and stately step of a monarch was
to witness a spectacle of human vanity provocative of
mingled contempt and amusement. The arrogance and
superciliousness of his manners rendered him unpopular
among his contemporaries at Cambridge, for the under-
graduate, whilst always ready to pay homage to merit
of any kind, resents the obtrusion of "side," and of
" side " Edward Ross had an abnormal share, at any
rate in his undergraduate days. But I think some
allowance must be made for the fact that, whilst a mere
lad, his head was turned by the adulation lavished on
him as the hero of the first Wimbledon meeting and
first winner of the Queen's Prize.

Edward Ross's greatest shoot was in his match with
Captain Fenton in 1872. They had tied for the Any
Rifle Association Cup at Wimbledon in 1870, and time
did not allow of their shooting off the tie. They
accordingly agreed to shoot a match at Sir Henry
Halford's private range at Wistow, 50 shots at 200
yards and 50 shots at 600. The match was most
keenly contested, and the shooting was, for those days,
admirable, for Ross scored 369 and Fenton 368 out
of a possible 400.

Some THUmblebon fberoes 637

In that same year at Wimbledon Edward Ross made
with the Metford rifle highest possible scores at 600
and 1,000 yards, seven shots at each range, and also
won the Albert Cup with 56 out of a possible 60.

He and his father were once the joint heroes of a
memorable feat. At the Highland Rifle Association
meeting in 1867 there were thirteen open prizes to
be competed for, and Captain Ross and his son Edward
won eleven of them. Edward, who was a barrister by
profession, was appointed Chairman of the Board of
Lunacy in 1874, and held that office until 1877, when
he was made a Visitor in Lunacy. His health broke
down utterly a few years later, and he died at Edinburgh
in the January of 1896, at the age of fifty-five.

Hercules Ross, too, was a fine shot. He won the
Albert Cup at Wimbledon in 1864, with the fine score
of 74 out of a possible 84 at 800, 900, and 1,000 yards.
He carried off the Indian Championship three years
in succession, and on the last occasion made nine bull's-
eyes with his ten shots at 1,000 yards. His deadly
marksmanship stood him in good stead during the
Mutiny, for he once held a large force of rebel Sepoys
at bay and kept them from crossing a river by shooting
down time after time the rowers of the one large boat
which was their only means of transit. Both Colin
and Hercules Ross figured with their father and their
brother Edward among the Scottish team for the Elcho
Shield — Colin three times, Hercules twice — and did
yeoman's service for their country.

One of the most interesting features of the first
Wimbledon meeting was the advent of a number of

638 i&fngs of tfoe 1Rofc, IRffle, anfc Gun

crack shots from Switzerland. The Swiss were then
supposed to be the finest rifle-shots in existence, and
Englishmen were eager to test their own skill by
comparison with that of the recognised champions of
the world. The Swiss marksmen, however, hardly came
up to our expectations. At short ranges, up to 300
yards, they were certainly superior to the bulk of our
men, but at the longer ranges they did not distinguish
themselves.

There was one exception, however — Jacob Knecht, of
Zurich, who won the Duke of Cambridge's Prize for
breech-loaders with 10 points out of a possible 20 at
800 and 1,000 yards. Knecht fired in a sitting posture ;
his position was admirably steady : he brought his rifle
at once to the aim, and after a single moment's dwell
fired. I remember well the excitement over that shoot
for the Duke of Cambridge's Prize. Lieutenant Lacey
had finished up with a score of 9. Knecht was 8, with
one shot to fire. Directly he had pulled the trigger he
sprang to his feet, exclaiming excitedly, " Ah ! gute —
gute ! a bool's-eye — a bool's-eye ! " His extravagant
expressions of delight, before the shot had been signalled
by the marker, were greeted with derisive laughter by
the incredulous crowd. But the old Switzer was right —
his instinct had told him true ; up went the blue flag,
and Jacob Knecht was hailed the winner by one point.

Another notable marksman of those early days was
Lieutenant Ick, Rifle Instructor to the 2nd Cheshire
Militia, a little, dark, active man, with a wonderfully
good eye and steady nerve. At a great contest on
Southport Sands in the September of 1860 Edward

Some TKHtmblefcon throes 639

Ross's score for the Queen's Prize was completely
thrown into the shade. For the Newton Cup Ick
scored 16 out of a possible 30 at 800, 900, and 1,000
yards, 5 shots at each range, his nearest competitors
being Marriott, of the 4th West York Volunteers, with
15, and Leece, of the Manchester Rifle Club, with 13.
But the great feature of that meeting was the Homeric
contest for the Southport Cup between Ick and Leece,
who had tied with 1 5 out of a possible 30 at the three
long ranges. T/te Times devoted a leader to that
exciting contest, from which I quote the following
passage as a specimen of rt The Thunderer " in one
of its moods of enthusiasm forty years ago :

" Lieutenant Ick and Mr. Leece, as we have already
said, were equal on the original score. They had made
1 5 points each, and it was therefore necessary that they
should resume their shooting for the purpose of deciding
the question of the prizes. Accordingly, at the con-
clusion of the regular contest, these two champions
stood forth again to try which was the better man.
The target was pitched at 1,000 yards distance — con-
siderably more than half a mile. Mr. Leece, however,
had that very morning hit the mark five times in
succession at this prodigious range, so that he was
much in favour, though, on the other hand, Lieutenant
Ick had already beaten him for the £50 prize. With
these qualifications respectively, the rivals took their
ground, and the anxiety of the spectators was plainly
perceptible. Lieutenant Ick led smartly off, and the
clear ring of the ball against the target told instantly
of the hit. Mr. Leece then planted himself in position

640 ikinQB ot tbe 1Ro&, IRifle, ant) (Bun

and in another instant the same sound and the same
signal told the multitude that the contest remained as
undecided as ever. A second time the two champions
came up to the mark, and a second time the shots
were equal, and the tie as even as before. Once again
they fired, but with no other result than again establish-
ing their equality. Three bullets in succession had
each of them put into the target at 1,000 yards range,
but so exactly matched was each pair of shots that
it was impossible to make any distinction of merit.
By this time however the excitement of the spectators
had become intense, and those peculiar and involuntary
expressions of emotion which fireworks alone have
hitherto extracted from a British crowd, were audible
all over the Southport sands. At length for the fourth
time Lieutenant Ick appeared, and for the fourth time
the crack of his piece rang along the shore. He bent
forward listening anxiously for the ring of the bullet,
and as anxiously and with the most breathless silence
did the spectators listen too ; but no sound was heard
nor was any signal displayed. He had missed. It
was not surprising under circumstances of such excite-
ment ; but the game was alive still, the conditions were
precisely the same for his antagonist, who might miss
also. The people thought he would — there was a
manifest feeling of this kind prevalent in the crowd.
Mr. Leece stepped forward again. His antagonist had
always fired from the knee ; he himself had always
adopted a squatting posture, with his heels firmly
driven into the sand. He was soon seated, and up
went the rifle to his shoulder, but only to be dropped

I

Some TPdUmblefcon "tierces 64i

again. He was dissatisfied with his sight, and his
hesitation confirmed the belief that he was going to
miss. Again he raised his piece, but the sway and
movement of the multitude were so marked that he
lowered it once more, and looked quietly round, as
if to show that he was quite master of himself. At
last, and in the midst of an expectation that was
positively painful, the flash burst from the mouth of
his motionless rifle, and the faint ring of a ball against
the iron struck upon the spectators' ears. The game
was won, but only after a struggle so gallant and so
exciting as to keep the very keenest enjoyment at its
height throughout the day. Nothing in the stories of
Robin Hood and his men is so good as this piece of
real life, and if other counties can furnish competitors
as well matched as those at Southport, we may be
perfectly certain that no marksmen will beat English-
men, and no sports be so popular in England as good
rifle contests."

Forty years have passed, and that confident prophecy
has not been fulfilled. Englishmen are not the best
marksmen in the world, nor has rifle-shooting become
a popular sport. But on that subject I shall have a
word to say before I conclude this chapter.

I do not remember that Ick ever did much at
Wimbledon, but he was always in evidence at the
Altcar meetings for North-country marksmen, and I
saw him make some very fine shooting in the Isle
of Man in 1862.

A conspicuous figure at Wimbledon was the present
octogenarian Earl of Wemyss, then known wherever

VOL. II. 20

642 Ikinas of tbe 1Rofc, IRifle, an& Gun

riflemen congregated as Lord Elcho. As " Frank
Charteris" he had been foremost among the gay and
gallant young sportsmen who made Oxford lively in
the early 'Thirties. At the Eglinton Tournament there
was no more graceful and accomplished cavalier among
that brilliant medley of modern knights-errant. In the
House of Commons he had made his name as a fluent
and effective speaker. In Society he was accepted as
a scholarly virtuoso whose opinions on art were worth
listening to. As a sportsman, though never the equal
of his father, one of the grandest old Nimrods in the
kingdom, he had won renown by his record bag of
woodcocks at Muckross — 245 cocks in eight days, and
53 in a single day. With the rifle, too, he had done
great things among the deer in the Reay Forest, killing
seven stags once to his own rifle out of eight shots in
two drives. He was not so successful as a target-shot,
though I once saw him in one of the Lords v. Commons
matches put on a string of seven bull's-eyes at 500
yards, at a time when such feats were not common.

But it is as the originator and Chief of the National
Rifle Association and the generous donor of the Elcho
Shield that Lord Elcho is affectionately remembered
by all riflemen. Wimbledon would not have seemed
Wimbledon without his erect figure in the uniform of
the London Scottish, who were as proud of their Colonel
as he was of his corps. And his charming wife took
as much interest in the meeting as her husband. She
sat at the camp-fires, she applauded the shooting, she
gave away the prizes, she charmed everyone who had
the good fortune to meet her. Ah ! those were the

Some TnUmblebon heroes 643

merry days of rifle-shooting, when the meeting was
half-picnic, half-business ; when Jenny Lind came down
to sing in camp, and riflemen vied with one another
in making their tents as smart as Henley house-boats.
Sunday at Wimbledon was quite a Society function,
and I recall with a sigh those cunningly mixed iced
drinks which Jennison used to supply — dreams of cool,
delicious suction! And then those lovely barmaids of
Spiers and Pond's, who were marched off every evening
under the escort of a phalanx of stalwart policemen
to the adjacent farmhouse where they slept — a bevy
of picked beauties whom Kneller and Lely and Romney
would have given worlds to immortalise on canvas !
Such were the frivolous surroundings of the great rifle
meeting in those early days! No doubt it was all
wrong. We ought to have taken our shooting more
seriously ; we should have striven to make the camp
a model of Spartan simplicity ; we should have put
ourselves under the sternest military discipline. But
we didn't. And I think, perhaps, it was as well that
we did not. For, after all, the great object was
to make the meeting a popular institution, to hold
out as many attractions as possible to the citizen-
soldier, and to lead him by flowery paths to the goal
of duty. That object once attained, then away with
all these trivial, fond concomitants ; let us go in for
rifle-shooting pure and simple, sternly stripped of all
meretricious allurements. But don't let us expect the
young citizen-soldier of to-day to be more of a Spartan
than we were at his age.

A not less revered name among British marksmen,

644 Ifcings of tbe 1Rofc, tttfle, anb Gun

and all who love rifle-shooting the wide world over,
is that of Sir Henry St. John Halford, "the Father
of Rifle-shooting." The son of the famous Court
physician, whom Colonel Hawker, the greatest sportsman
of his time, dubbed " the Chesterfield of Physicians/'
Henry Halford was born at Maidwell, in Northampton-
shire, on August Qth, 1828. Among his contemporaries
at Oxford he had few superiors as an athlete and
all-round sportsman. He and three other Oxonians
rowed a four-oared boat six hundred miles on the
Rhine, the Maine, and the Moselle, to the wonder
and admiration of the natives. A bold rider to hounds,
a keen fisherman, an accomplished yachtsman, and a
dead shot with gun and rifle, Halford was the very
type and model of a fine English sportsman. As soon
as the Volunteer movement was started he went in
for it heart and soul. The First Volunteer Battalion
of the Leicestershire Regiment, of which he was Colonel
for many years, owed its origin to his zeal ; and when
he resigned the active command in 1891 he could point
to it with pride as one of the largest and most efficient
corps in the kingdom — 1,100 strong.

As a practical expert in the science of rifle-shooting
and riflemaking Sir Henry Halford had no equal.
He had, attached to the conservatory at Wistow Hall,
a workshop elaborately fitted with every appliance for
gunmaking, and he was frequently hard at work
experimenting in this shop from eight o'clock in the
morning to eleven o'clock at night.

As a marksman he was always in the very front
rank. In 1862 he was first in the competition for

Some IKltmblcbcm "fceroes 645

places in the English eight for the Elcho Shield at
Hythe, and when the match was shot ag t otland

at Wimbledon he headed the English score. He also
took the Albert Cup with a score of 70 out of a possible
84 at 800, 900, and 1,000 yards, and won altogether
nearly £300 in prizes that year. The Any Rifle
Association Cup, the Duke of Cambridge's (twice), the
Bass, and the Dudley all fell to him at different times.
The latter he won in 1893, a^ter a tie with Captain
Gibbs and Captain A. G. Foulkes, the two finest shots
of their generation. Only once, however, did he get
into the chosen Sixty (now the Hundred) for the final
stage of the Queen's, and that was in 1864, when he was
second for the Gold Medal, and only missed the coveted
Blue Riband of Rifle-shooting by a point.

In 1877 and 1882 he captained the British team at
Creedmoor, but failed to secure victory for his side,
for the Yankees were wonderful long-range shots in
those days.

Sir Henry was never absolutely the best shot of his
day, but no one could boast of so long and steadily
successful a career. From the first meeting at which
he figured at Wimbledon in 1862 till the year before
his death, 1896, he never missed a meeting of the
National Rifle Association, though on one occasion, in
1895, his once vigorous frame was so enfeebled that
he had to ride on a shooting-pony to the firing-point.

That his hand had not lost its cunning nor his eye
its keenness in the lapse of years, Sir Henry proved
by winning the Albert Cup for the second time, after
an interval of thirty years, in 1891. One of his most

646 ifcfngs of tfoe 1Rofc, IRffle, an& (Bun

successful years was 1893, when he was a veteran of
sixty-five. His shooting at Bisley was splendid. He
took the Bass Prize with 145 out of a possible 150 at
900 and 1,000 yards, and scored 74 out of a possible 75
at 1,000 yards. He also carried off the Albert Cup for
the second time with the fine score of 168 — 98 out of
100 in the first stage at 800 and 900 yards, and 70 out
of 75 in the second stage at 1,000 yards. I doubt whether
Sir Henry ever shot better in his life than at that meeting.
In the following year, too, in 1894, at Bisley, with the
•303 rifle, in the Doyle competition, he scored a highest
possible, seven consecutive bull's-eyes, at 900 yards.

One of his peculiarities was that he was an inveterate
smoker, and almost invariably had a pipe in his mouth
when he was target-shooting. Once, when he was
shooting very badly in the Elcho Shield competition,
a friend came up to him and said, " Why, Halford,
what are you doing without your pipe ? No wonder
you can't shoot." " Happy thought," quoth Sir Henry,
and forthwith filled and lighted his beloved briar-root.
Instantly he got on the bull's-eye, and was seldom off
it for the rest of the shoot.

Of the Martini-Henry rifle Sir Henry Halford had
a pronounced abhorrence. He called it "a beastly
weapon," and so long as it was the Government arm
he refused to compete for any of the prizes in which
the Martini- Henry was the rifle used. With his life-
long friend Mr. Metford he was largely responsible
for the introduction of the Lee-Metford, and his joy
was great when at last the War Office adopted that
weapon for the Army.

Some TOlmble&on t>eroce 647

A notable match in which Halford was engaged
was one at 2,000 yards for a prize given by the
National Rifle Association. The conditions were that
the rifle must not exceed 1 5 Ibs., must be fitted with
telescopic sights, and carry cither shell or solid bullet
The match took place at Gravesend. Metford and
Halford, both shooting with the same rifle, tied with
eight hits each out of 25 shots at a target 12 feet
by 6. There was another match at the same distance
under the same conditions in the following year, when
Miller, of Bristol, won with 37 points, 12 hits out of
20 shots, h. p. s. 80. Edward Ross and Halford tied
for second place with 36 points, making respectively
12 and 14 hits. Metford came fourth with 34 points,
made by 13 hits. After that there was no further
match-shooting at 2,000 yards. But in practice with
the Lee-Metford Sir Henry on one occasion at that
distance put 18 out of 20 shots into a target 12 feet
by 9 feet.

In an interview with a Press reporter a few months
before his death, Sir Henry Halford gave this as the
result of his experiences of marksmanship : " The
primary necessaries to make a good shot are nerve,
carefulness, calm temperament, eye-sight, and power
of concentration. I don't think you will find any
man who is not a steady liver last long at shooting."
From that statement it will be apparent that it is
not every man who possesses the natural qualities
that go to the making of a first-rate rifle-shot. It is
all very well for enthusiasts to say that anyone can
make himself a proficient in rifle-shooting by steady

648 flings of tfoe IRofc, 1Riflet anb (Bun

practice. But as a matter of fact, the really great
rifle-shot is born, not made. You can, it is true,
make a tolerable shot out of the ordinary man, but
not one man in ten thousand is born with the gifts
which alone can make such marksmen as Sir Henry
Halford.

This indefatigable and enthusiastic rifleman may be
said, to a certain extent, to have sacrificed his life to
his zeal for shooting. In the year 1895 he made a
voyage to New Zealand for the benefit of his health,
which had for some time previously been failing.
After his return to England, in the spring of 1896,
he took part in an important long-range rifle com-
petition at Cambridge. On the first day he shot
splendidly, and carried all before him. But on the
second day he was advised not to go out, as the
weather was bad and his heart was in a weak state.
He would go, however, and the consequence was that
he broke down and practically never recovered from
the illness which followed. He lingered, indeed, till
the following January, when, after suffering great pain,
he died. The Times^ in its long obituary notice, paid
him no more than his due in the following tribute :
"The country owes him the debt due to a man who
made the science of rifles, as well as the practice of
rifle-shooting, the main pursuit of his life, who, without
thought of pecuniary advantage, laboured without
ceasing to discover all that could be discovered about
the infantry weapon and bring it to a state of per-
fection." I don't know how many times Sir Henry
Halford shot for the Elcho Shield, but for many years

Some Wfmblcfcon forces 649

he was the life and soul of that contest. He was looked
up to by every frequenter of Wimbledon and Bislcy as
the greatest living authority on rifle-shooting, and he
was always ready to impart his knowledge to anyone
who consulted him. There was ever a kindly greeting
awaiting all riflemen who called for advice or infor-
mation at the little bungalow which Sir Henry shared
with his friend Mr. Metford. And many a rifleman,
I am sure, as he visits Bisley for the annual shoot,
feels a keen pang of regret at the thought that the
stalwart English form and the firm, resolute English
face of Sir Henry Halford will be seen at the great
National Wapenschaw no more.

Another notable marksman whose figure comes up to
my mind's eye as I look back over the past is Captain
Heaton, of Manchester, a smart, clever, keen-eyed man,
who had few superiors as a small-bore shot. As far
back as 1862 I remember the sensation he caused by
putting in a highest possible of seven consecutive bulls
at 600 yards with a Henry rifle for the Association
Cup ; it was thought a great feat in those days. But
Captain Heaton performed many greater feats than
that in subsequent years, as the records of the scores
for the Elcho Shield indubitably prove.

An early marksman of note, who, but for his
premature death, would have made a great name for
himself among rifle-shots, was Captain Robertson, of
Perthshire, who won the Prince of Wales's Prize in
1861. I have never seen a better judge of distance
or a deadlier shot at sea birds with a rifle. I have
seen him hit single gulls or divers on the water, or

650 ikinQB of tfoe 1Rofct IRtfle, ant) Gun

send the bullet so near them that they were covered
with the spray, at distances of from 500 to 800 yards.
As a deer-stalker, too, he was great, but he died while
quite a young man, I think in 1864 — at any rate, not
very long after he had first come into prominence
as a rifle-shot.

Cambridge was at one time a nursery of crack shots.
Whether the fact of Edward Ross's being there gave an
impetus to rifle-shooting or not I am unprepared to say.
But among his contemporaries at Alma Mater were
several fine shots, notable among whom were J. H. Doe,
of Trinity, and Peterkin, of Emmanuel, who, whilst they
were up, made the Chancellor's Plate an annual gift to
Cambridge. And then there was Ensign Humphry, son
of a popular doctor in the town, who, when a mere lad
of seventeen, carried off the Queen's Prize in 1871 with
the fine score of 68 out of a possible 84. I recall his
smooth, boyish face and slim figure as he went up
amid deafening applause to take his big prize. I think
Humphry was the youngest marksman that has ever
won the Blue Riband of Rifle-shooting, and he sub-
sequently maintained his reputation as one of the very
best shots of his day.

But facile princeps amongst Queen's Prizemen for
thirty-one years stood Angus Cameron, of Kingussie, the
only man who had ever won the Queen's Prize twice
until Private Ward, of Devon, rivalled that feat at the
last Bisley meeting. And not only did Cameron win it
twice, but he won it with the two highest scores ever
recorded under the conditions which governed the
contest up to 1873. He was but nineteen when in 1866 he

Some Wtmble&on "tierces 651

took the Queen's with 69 out of a possible 84 at 800, goo,
and 1 ,000 yards. Three years later he eclipsed his own
record by winning the great prize with 71 out of a
possible 84 at the same ranges. No one ever came within
three points of that score whilst the conditions under
which Cameron shot were continued. I remember well
that last shoot of his, for I had to describe it for a daily
paper. Corporal Cameron, when he had concluded the
900 yards, stood at 48, one other competitor, Corporal
M'Creath, 3rd Ayrshire, standing at 49. Beginning at
the 1,000 yards, both scored centres for sighting shots ;
but then Corporal M'Creath began to get outers, while
Cameron kept in the centre and at his fifth shot scored
a bull's-eye. As the firing at the last range approached
its termination the crowd increased, and as the last shot
was being fired the Nawab Nazim of Bengal came up
with his sons. Corporal Cameron had just made a bull's-
eye and a centre, putting him into the perfectly safe
position of 67, with a shot to go. Immediately after the
arrival of the Nawab, the Corporal ascended the raised
mound and fired. Before the faint ring which told that
the target was struck could be heard, some gentle-
men who were spotting the shots through powerful
glasses called out "a bull's-eye." Next moment the
white disk eclipsed the black square on the centre of
the target, and the Queen's Prize was won ! Captain
Armstrong, ist Lanark, and Captain Smart, ist City of
Edinburgh Artillery, seized the redoubtable little Corporal
and hoisted him on their shoulders. The band of the
Victorias, who had been waiting, struck up " See the
Conquering Hero comes!" the little Highlander was

6s 2 ftfngs of tbe 1Rofc, 1Riflet ant) Gun

borne in triumph to the Council tent, where certain
formalities were gone through, and then, amid tremendous
cheering, Corporal Cameron came forth the officially
recognised winner of the Queen's Prize for 1869.

There was one hospitable formality, however, in which
Angus Cameron did not participate. The Victorias
then claimed the prescriptive right of handing their
splendid regimental loving-cup, foaming with champagne,
to the winner of the Queen's Prize, and I have not
forgotten the look of disgust on the faces of those gallant
and hospitable Victorias when, on the occasion of his
first winning the coveted guerdon, the little Highlander
refused the proffered goblet and asked for — a bottle of
ginger beer ! He was a teetotaller, and teetotallers were
not common then among the countrymen of Robbie
Burns.

Cameron's great exploit was rendered the more
remarkable from the fact that between his first and
second triumph he had lost the sight of his right eye,
and had to shoot on the second occasion from the left
shoulder instead of the right as before. Not long after-
wards the sight of his remaining eye became so bad that
he gave up rifle-shooting altogether.

I am indebted to the courtesy of the Editor of The
Inverness Courier for the information that Angus
Cameron has long since left Kingussie, and has been for
some years a resident at Blair Atholl, where he now
4( pursues golfing with something of the enthusiasm which
he formerly devoted to rifle-shooting."

Cameron is or was a jeweller by trade, and it is matter
for regret that he should have had to give up shooting

Some TKHtmblefcon "focroes 653

at so early an age, for he was unquestionably a remark-
ably fine small-bore shot, and would, I do not doubt,
have made himself a great name. Previously to winning
the Queen's Prize at Wimbledon in 1869 he had carried
off from all Scotland the Caledonian Challenge Shield.

One notable result of the spread of rifle-shooting
amongst the Volunteers was to prove that there were in
the ranks tradesmen and mechanics men who could handle
a rifle as deftly as the crack shots among the gentlemen
who made deer-stalking their pastime or the soldiers who
had to make musketry their business. Tradesmen who
knew nothing of sport or soldiering, who had never fired
gun or rifle until they became Volunteers, suddenly
sprang to the front as first-rate marksmen. When I was
in the Midlands in 1865, two of the best shots there were
Whiteman, a hair-dresser of Ashby-de-la-Zouch, and
Kelsey, a draper of Leicester. And here was this little
Highland jeweller of Kingussie towering a very King
among marksmen above sportsmen and soldiers who
had been used to guns and rifles from their boyhood !
But greatest of all Scotsmen whom the Volunteer
movement brought to light is MacVittie, of Dumfries,
whose name is familiar as a household word among
riflemen not only in the United Kingdom but in the
United States. MacVittie would not have refused the
proffered goblet of the " Victorias " if it had ever been
his luck to win the Queen's Prize, for he is no
teetotaller, but an honest Scot who believes that " a
dram " at times, and especially in damp weather,
steadies the hand and quickens the eye. But Mac-
Vittie has never had the good fortune to win the Queen's

654 Ikfnas of tbe 1Ro&, IRffle, anb 6un

Prize, though this last year at Bisley he was for the
ninth time among the Queen's Hundred, and has been
very close on the heels of the winner more than once.

Only one man has been as often among the Hundred
as MacVittie, and that is Parry, of Cheshire, who has
also been nine times among the select band of weeded-
out competitors and yet has failed to win the Prize.
Caldwell, another famous marksman and a fellow-
countryman of MacVittie's, has been eight times in
the Hundred without gaining the object of his ambition.
Major Pearse, of Devon, who has also been eight times
among the Hundred, was fortunate enough to win the
Queen's in 1875; whilst Bates, of Warwick, Cortis, of
Sussex, and Pullman, of Somerset and South Middlesex,
who have been respectively seven and six times in the
Hundred, have each carried off the Blue Riband.

But, though he has failed to win the Queen's, Mac-
Vittie has carried off most of the good things at
Wimbledon and Bisley. I suppose no living rifleman
has won more prizes or made more profit out of rifle-
shooting than the canny marksman of Dumfries. I
have never known a steadier shot, year in and year
out, foul weather or fair. Perhaps his best shoot was
in a triangular match at Hawick in 1885, when with
a Eraser's Martini at 200, 500, and 600 yards, Queen's
conditions, seven shots at each range, he scored 102
out of a possible 105, making 19 consecutive bull's-
eyes out of his 21 shots. It was a long while before
that score was beaten, and, in fact, it never was beaten
with the Martini- Henry. But with the Lee-Metford
Colour-Sergeant Matthews, of the Civil Service Rifles,

Some TKntmblefcon "foeroes 655

made a highest possible, 105 points, at those ranges
in 1898; and last year at Bisley Sergeant Wood, of
the South Stafford, performed the same remarkable
feat, and had also bull's-eyes for sighting shots ! Mac-
Vittie was one of the British team that went over to
America to shoot in the great Centennial Match in
1876. On his return he adopted the American position
in firing at long ranges. " I get," he says, in his little
book on rifle-shooting, " as flat on my back as possible,
and cross the left leg over the right. My hand is kept
in proper position by a strap which passes round my
left wrist, and the ends of which are held by my teeth.
The rifle is laid over the left leg a little way above
the knee, and the stock held firmly into the shoulder.
By adopting the back position greater steadiness can
certainly be attained, but there are also many draw-
backs. ... I invariably prefer to aim on a level with
the bull's-eye."

I do not know who was the first to adopt the back
position, but the Hon. T. F. Fremantle, himself an
excellent shot, in his interesting " Notes on the Rifle,"
reproduces a plate from Ezekiel Baker's " Remarks on
Rifle Guns," published in 1803, which depicts a rifleman
shooting from a back position almost exactly similar
to that now in vogue. I think the first marksman I
saw shooting in this position was Mr. Farquharson,
M.P., in the match Lords v. Commons. He was a
man of great bulk and stature, and a fine shot As
a quick shooter he had few equals. I saw him once
fire 52 shots in two minutes at 200 yards, scoring
5 bulls, 26 centres, and 21 outers. But he certainly

656 ifcfnas of tbe 1Rofc, raffle, an& (Bun

looked extremely awkward and uncomfortable in what
was then considered a most eccentric attitude.

A few years ago MacVittie went out to Canada,
and we thought the famous Dumfries man was lost
to us. But it was not so. He joined a rifle corps
in the Dominion, and came over as one of the Canadian
team to shoot against the Old Country for the Maharajah
of Kolapore's Cup in 1892, and since then he has crossed
the Atlantic, if not annually, at any rate several times
to shoot at Bisley. Last year he won his badge among
the select Queen's Hundred for the ninth time, supple-
mented with a prize of £$, and after five-and-thirty
years of continuous shooting his eye seems as sure and
his hand as steady as when he first pulled a trigger
at Wimbledon in the 'Seventies.

I hardly know where to stop in my recollections of
famous Wimbledon marksmen. Major H. C. Gibbs,
the great Bristol shot, of course claims a more than
passing mention, for he is unquestionably one of the
greatest marksmen of the age. Every rifleman has
heard of his record score on Sir Henry Halford's
private range at Wistow, on October nth, 1886 —
248 out of a possible 250 at 1,000 yards. Thirty-seven
consecutive shots did he put into the 3-feet bull's-eye,
and only twice in his fifty rounds was he off the bull.
He shot with a Metford rifle. In 1894 Major Gibbs
scored 71 out of a possible 75 at 1,100 yards, and
were I to attempt to enumerate his great scores I
should fill a page with figures.

Then there is Major S. S. Young, who amongst
other notable feats with the old military match rifle,

Some TUUmblefton "foeroes 657

at Hounslow, in 1879, made 68 out of a possible 75
at 1,100 yards; and Mr. J. K. Milner, of the
team, who as far back as 1877 made 15 consecutive
bull's-eyes in his 15 shots at 1,000 yards. I must
not forget Major Lamb, too, who scored 220 out of
a possible 225 in the Army v. Volunteers match at
800, 900, and 1,000 yards in 1892, and 219 out of a
possible 225 at the same ranges for the Elcho Shield
in 1892. These scores, however, grand as they are,
have been beaten in the States. Major Fulton, who
won the special cup offered for our American visitors
in 1876 with 133 out of a possible 150 at 1,000 yards—
19 bulls, 5 centres, 6 inners — is credited with 222 out
of 225 at 800, 900, and 1,000 on the Creedmoor range.
And indeed twenty and five-and-twenty years ago,
when long-range shooting was popular in the States,
the Americans were ahead of us in that branch of
marksmanship, but of late years the Continental style
of ring targets at medium ranges has quite superseded
long-range shooting. I think one of the coolest shots
I ever saw was Colonel Bodine, who captained the
American team of small-bore marksmen which twice
visited the Old Country. " Old Stonewall " his com-
rades nicknamed him, and well he deserved the sobriquet.
At Dollymount once he had one shot to fire — the last
on his side ; only a bull's-eye could win the match
for his team. A crowd of wild, excited Irishmen
pressed round him, all eager for the victory of their
own team. Three times " Old Stonewall " aimed ; three
times he brought his rifle down, took a long breath,
and aimed again. The crowd was nearly bursting
VOL. II. 21

658 ftfngs of tbe 1Rot>, IRifle, ant> (Bun

with excitement. At last he fired ; there was a moment
of breathless suspense ; then a bull's-eye was signalled,
and " Old Stonewall " had won the match for the
Stars and Stripes by a single point.

A not less remarkable instance of nerve was that
which I witnessed in the match between the Volunteers
and the Regulars at Wimbledon in 1875. The Volunteers
had wound up with an aggregate of 927. Eleven out of
the twelve Regulars had finished shooting. Lieutenant
Godsal, of the 52nd Regiment, had yet to complete his
shoot He had fired one shot at 600 yards, and scored
a bull's-eye, bringing the total of the Regulars up to
903, when the striker of his rifle broke, and he had to
borrow another weapon of which he could not possibly
know the sighting. The situation was enough to try
the strongest nerves. The hopes of his comrades rested
solely on him. He must make 25 points in six shots
with a rifle he had never fired in his life in order to
win. Yet he seemed quite unconcerned. Coolly and
steadily he set about his task. His first three shots
were centres, then came a bull, then another centre.
He had one more shot to fire, and it must be a centre to
win. The excitement was intense — every man held his
breath. The coolest man there was Godsal, who aimed
as methodically as ever, fired, and — made the necessary
centre which gave victory to the Regulars. It was as
grand a display of nerve and self-possession as I ever
witnessed.

Against this let me set a very different picture. It
was in the last stage of the contest for the Queen's
Prize in 1873. The issue lay between three men;

Some Tpntmblefton "fccroes 659

Sergeant Mcnzics, of the i Baker, of the

Honourable Artillery Company ; and Pullman, of the
1st Somerset. Menzics finished with 60, Baker with 59.
Pullman stood at 56, with three shots to fire, and he
had been shooting so coolly and steadily that victory
seemed a certainty for him. But some ill-a<
friend acquainted him with his position. The news
did not appear to affect him. He calmly loaded, lay
down, fired, and scored a centre, bringing his total
up to 59. Someone said, " It's a hundred to one on
him now." Whether he heard the remark or not I
don't know, but certain it is that his next shot was
a miss. Still, he had only to get on the target anywhere
with his last shot to win. Amid appalling silence he
lay down to fire. The sudden hush must have un-
nerved him, for I saw the barrel of his rifle wobble as
he pulled the trigger. Every eye was strained towards
the marker's butt. But no flag appeared. Pullman's
last chance was gone, and Menzies was carried in
triumph to the Council tent on the shoulders of his
enthusiastic " brither Scots."

But three years later, in 1876, Pullman, then a
sergeant in the South Middlesex, retrieved his 1
and won the Queen's Prize in gallant style. Those
three years had doubtless strengthened his nerve
though it was not put to the same severe test as in
1873. Since then Pullman has been four times in the
Queen's Hundred, but the £250 and the Gold Medal
have eluded him, as they have eluded every marksman
for the second time except the little jeweller of
Kingussie and the coachbuilder of Okchampton.

660 ifctn00 of tbe 1Rofc, 1Rtflet an& Gun

My experiences of the great annual meeting of the
National Rifle Association are almost entirely confined
to Wimbledon. I have only been twice to Bisley, and
the place did not commend itself to me, partly, perhaps,
because of the abominable train service. That the
general average of shooting, tested by results, has
marvellously improved goes without saying. But this,
of course, is owing to the vast improvement in the
military rifle. The Lee-Metford is so immeasurably
superior as a weapon of precision to the Martini-Henry,
not to speak of the Enfields and Sniders of my early
days, that it is most absurd to compare the scores now
made with those made thirty and forty years ago.
Nevertheless, to score 92 out of 105 in the first
stage of the Queen's, as Corporal Betts, of Norfolk,
did with the Snider in 1877, was a finer feat of
marksmanship, to my thinking, than anything accom-
plished with the Lee-Metford in 1900.

But, it may be asked, are the ruck of riflemen better
shots to-day than they were twenty or thirty years ago ?
There are, no doubt, more men who can shoot well now
than there were then ; but I do not think that the
present-day marksman is any better than his pre-
decessor of old Wimbledon days. I hold that a crack
marksman is born, not made ; and the qualities which
made a man a good rifle-shot thirty years ago will
make him a good rifle-shot to the end of time. I doubt
whether we shall ever see any better longe-range
shooting than was made with the old muzzle-loading
match-rifles five-and-twenty years ago. Mr. J. K.
Milner, of the Irish team, made a highest possible

Some TKatmblefcon throes 661

score at 1,000 yards in 1877—15 consecutive bull's-
eyes. Dr. S. J. Scott, of the American team which
came over to shoot against the Klcho Shield winners
in 1880, made 74 out of a possible 75 at 1,000 yards.
It is true that the average shooting for the Elcho Shield
has considerably improved in the last ten years. In
the sixteen years from 1874 to 1889 inclusive, when
the same conditions prevailed as now, the score of the
winning team was only six times 1,600 and over ;
whilst in the eleven years from 1890 to 1900 inclusive
there have been eight winning scores over 1,600,
amongst them the record score of 1,696 in 1892. In
the first-named period there were three winning scores
under 1,500; in the second period there have been
none. But, on the other hand, whilst Ireland won
with 1,638 in 1880, and England with 1,642 in 1881,
the winning score of 1,900 was only 1,537. Allowances,
of course, must be made for different conditions of
light and wind ; but the conditions in these respects were
certainly not unfavourable to high scoring in 1900.

In match-rifle shooting, therefore, I see little if any
improvement during the last twenty years, nor do I
think that we have any marksmen now superior to
the crack shots of the mid-'Seventies and early 'Eighties.

It is amusing to look back upon the infinite variety
of rifles one used to see and handle at Wimbledon.
The Enfield, the Snider, the VVhitworth, the Dawes',
the Terry, the Lancaster, the Jacobs, the Henry
Turner, the Martini-Henry, the Mctford — these are
some of the names that come up to my memory.
The Jacobs I remember as a rifle which I liked well

662 ifcfngs of tbe 1Rofct IRifle, anfc Gun

at 200 and 300 yards, and it was, I think, with a Terry's
breech-loading carbine that I had my jaw nearly
smashed at Cambridge owing to the breech-bolt flying
out. To anyone possessed of a private range, like the
late Sir Henry Halford, I can imagine nothing more
interesting than to refurbish these old weapons from
time to time and bring them out to test their powers
against the latest modern rifles. Handicap matches,
Old versus New, should afford capital sport.

It is a fond dream of some enthusiasts that England
may yet become a nation of marksmen, and that
English riflemen may win as world-wide a renown as
the famous English archers of Crecy and Agincourt.
"If," wrote Sir Henry Halford once, "the youth of
England could use the rifle, the strength and power of
the United Kingdom would be invincible." Theo-
retically no one will deny the truth of that statement.
But practically I regard the idea of a nation of
marksmen as a mere visionary's dream. It seems to
me ridiculous to talk of making the English a nation
of marksmen in the sense, for example, in which
the Boers are or were. The Boer's conditions of life
are utterly different from ours. He has the wide veldt
to roam over, he has living targets in the shape of game
on which to test his skill, his rifle is his constant
companion, he has not to trouble himself about finding
ranges at which to shoot in safety, he can keep his
hand in all the year round in the course of his day's
work. Only under such conditions can a nation of
marksmen exist in these days, and it is useless to expect
that England, crowded, cribb'd, cabin'd, and confin'd

Some Wfmble&on throes 663

as she is by the very nature of her civilisation, can
ever hope to reproduce a race of sharp-shooters like
her old yeoman-archers.

But small as are the opportunities an ordinary
Englishman has of making himself an efficient, practical
marksman, they are rendered of less use than they might
be by the system of teaching him to shoot. In war and
sport a man has to find his target, to pick it out from
surroundings calculated to render it indistinguishable.
Yet the only training our riflemen have is at the most
conspicuous object it is possible to imagine — a black
butts-eye on a white target ! Neither in sport nor war
will any object remotely resembling the regulation
target ever present itself to the sharp-shooter. I don't
believe much in moving targets, but surely it would
assist the budding marksman to realise what practical
rifle-shooting in war is like if the stationary targets were
of kJiaki colour instead of glaring white. Perhaps now
that khaki has superseded scarlet as the uniform of
the troops it may occur to the wiseacres of the
War Office to substitute khaki targets for the present
white absurdities.

Then, the next thing which a practical sharp-shooter
in war or sport has to find is the range at which the
object of his aim is distant. I would, therefore, have
these khaki-coloured targets at unknown ranges, and
allow each competitor a couple of sighting shots to find
the range. For range finding or judging distance is
a qualification as necessary to the practical marksman
as straight shooting, and should count equally to his
credit The hero of Bisley should not be the man who

664 ikinas of tfoe IRofc, Uttfle, anb (Bun

can put in " bulls " at known ranges upon a white target
with a jet-black " eye," but the man who can find the
range soonest and hit oftenest a dusky bull's-eye on a
khaki target with a background of brown butt. Then,
instead of mere fancy-shooting, there would be something
approaching to sensible training in the practical marks-
manship which alone can make a rifleman efficient on
a modern battle-field.

The born marksman, who takes naturally to a rifle,
will probably need no incentive to the cultivation of
sharp-shooting. But unless there is some element of
sport introduced into rifle-shooting you will never get
Young England generally to take it up as a pastime.
To become an efficient rifle-shot a man should practise
at least twice a week, should accustom himself to
every variety of wind and light and weather, should
be as complete a master of his rifle as John Roberts
of the cue or "W. G." of the bat. Now, supposing
a man has the necessary enthusiasm for rifle-shooting
to carry him through such constant training and
practice — and you will not find one man in a thousand
with that enthusiasm — where and how is he to keep
his hand in ? Ranges are becoming scarcer and less
accessible every day, ammunition is expensive, and it
is simply impossible even for the enthusiast to perfect
himself in the study of marksmanship, unless he be a
man of means and leisure.

And, as I say, the enthusiast is rare. To most young
Englishmen rifle-shooting holds out no attraction
whatever. In times of national storm and stress all
young fellows of spirit will take up arms and will, as

Some TOllmblc&on Ibcroes 6r,5

an act of patriotic duty, do their best to become
proficient in the use of their weapons. But not one
in a hundred will retain his intn hooting when

the crisis is past. And a rifleman cannot be manu-
factured in a day, or a year.

If rifle-shooting is ever to become popular it must
be made more attractive, and I think the Continental
system of carton targets at medium ranges would hold
out a more alluring prospect than the methods in vogue
at Bisley and similar meetings. If a man learns to
shoot straight at ring targets up to 350 yards, he has
at any rate mastered the rudiments of the art of
rifle-shooting, and that, with the prevalent scarcity
of long ranges, is as much as you can reasonably
expect.

And then, why should not rifle meetings be invested
with some of those social attractions which made
Wimbledon so popular in its early days ? Why should
there not be something of the gala and the fete surround-
ing the competitions of riflemen —

With store of ladies whose bright eyes
Rain influence and judge the prize ?

Think what an incentive to strenuous endeavour the
presence of pretty and gaily dressed women •
afford ? The ladies would come if they were only
encouraged to do so. They could not be more bored
than they are at cricket matches. They would take
quite as intelligent an interest in shooting as they
do in cricket, if they were told that it was the correct
thing to do — an interest not incompatible with charming
ignorance of the game in each case.

666 ifcinas of tbe TCofc, IRifle, an& (Bun

But the women of England might do much more
than this. They might emulate the wives and daughters
of the Boers and become crack shots themselves. Miss
Leale, of Jersey, who scored 34 out of a possible 35
at 900 yards six years ago at Bisley, has shown
what an Englishwoman can do with the rifle. Why
should not others of her sex follow her example ?
Then, indeed, we should have no cause to complain
of the unpopularity of rifle-shooting. It would beat
golf and croquet and lawn-tennis out of the field,
and those <c bright eyes " of which Milton writes
would be more usefully employed than they have ever
been before. There was a time when archery was
a favourite pastime of ladies, especially those with
good figures ; is it too much to hope that a day may
come when they will extend a similar patronage to
rifle-shooting ?

If County and Parish Councils were empowered to
acquire land for rifle-ranges, as they are for allotments,
the range problem might be solved, and every village
might have its Rifle Club. Local rivalry might be
educated to become as keen at the butts as in the
cricket-field, and, as in the old Popinjay shoots of
which Sir Walter Scott has given us so vivid a picture
in "Old Mortality," the winners would be the heroes
of the hour. Their triumphs would be celebrated by
appropriate conviviality, and then rifle-shooting would
be a popular sport — not, as it now is, a grave business
for sober-minded persons who take their pleasures
sadly.

I do not for a moment wish to ridicule the serious

Some Mtmbledon fterocs

667

efforts of patriotic enthusiasts to teach the young
Englishman to shoot. I am only giving them a
hint not to make the Rifle Club too solemn an
tution, and suggesting the baits by which they may
lure the shy youngster to the butts. I should like to
sec rifle-shooting made a part of every boy's education.
It should be as essential a part of his physical training
as swimming. You will not make a great marksman
of him unless Nature has given him the necessary
qualifications, but you may teach him to take an
intelligent interest in rifle-shooting, and you may turn
him out a sufficiently good shot to prove dangerous to
an enemy in the field. It is something for a boy
to be able to swim well enough to save his life if he
be upset in a boat, even though he may never aspire
to the prowess of a Jarvis or a Holbein.

I should like to see every athletic young Briton as
keen upon rifle-shooting as upon cricket or football.
I should like to see every lad as much at home with
a rifle in his hand as with a cricket-bat or a tennis-
racket. And if anyone can devise a scheme for
inoculating the manly youth of Britain with a passion
for marksmanship, I shall hail him as a national
benefactor. But you have got to make rifle-shooting
popular before you can realise that Utopian dream.
And it can never be popular so long as the pursuit
of it entails inconvenience and expense without any
compensating element of pleasure, excitement, or sport

Index

Abbotsford, 313, 315, 316, 378,

612

Aberdeen, 364, 541
Aberlour, 442, 443
Abyssinia, 529, 530, 531, 583
Achlian, 181
Africa, 262 to 292, 340 to 354,

360, 362, 522, 571, 574, 583 to

587
Ailsa, Marquis of, see Kennedy,

Lord

Aird, Mr., 169
Albany, The Duchess of (Wife

of Charles Stuart the Pre-
tender), 203 to 205
Albemarle, The Earl of, 204,

206, 214, 221

Albert Cup, The, 637, 645, 646
Albert N'yanza, Lake, 583, 584
Albrighton, 605
Alderney Manor, Dorsetshire.

479, 480

Allardice, Miss, 231
Allen, Mr. Grant, 484, 485
Allerton Mauleverer, 73
Alresford, 145
Altcar, 641
Althorp Park Stakes, 604

Altona, 312

Altyre, 263

Ambrose, Parson, 109

America, South, 358

America, United States of, 28,
46410477, 571, 587, 588

Amesbury, 318

Anchold, Vicomte d', 462, 463

Ancrum, 364

Anderson, Dr., 516

Angerstein, Mr., 398, 404

Angler's Companion to the
Rivers and Lakes of Scotland,
The, 497, 498, 503

Angling Rambles, 498

Angling Saunter in Sutherland-
shire, An, 549

Angling Songs, 497

Anson, Colonel (afterwards
General), 245 to 248, 254, 402

Any Rifle Association Cup, 636,

645

Any Rifle Wimbledon Cup, 634
Apreece, Mrs., 309, 310, 311
Apreece, Shuckburgh Ashby, 309
Apreece, Sir Thomas Hussey,

309
Archer, Mr., aoa

670

Argyll, 6th Duke of, 263
Armstrong, Captain, 651
Army v. Volunteers Match, The,

657

Arnold, Matthew, 175, 484
Arnold, Thomas, 337 to 339
Arrowsmith, Mr., 232, 233
Art of Angling, The (" Barker's

Delight"), 1 6 to 20
Art of Angling, The (Stoddart),

497, 503
Art of Deer-Stalking, The, 376,

41810423,431,445
Art of Fly-fishing, The, 49, 51,

52

Arundel, Hugh de Albaniaco,
Earl of, 600

Ascham, Roger, 598

Asell, 95, 97

Ashburton, Lord, 405, 616

Ashley, Lord, 481

Ashton-under-Lyme, 603, 607

Assheton, Nicholas, 17, 92

Association Cup, The, 634, 649

Astley, 175

Atholl, Duke of, 254, 419, 423,
424, 428, 429, 430, 438

Atholl Forest, 419, 423, 426, 612

Audlem, 237

Aviemore Forest, near Glen-
more, 604, 609

Avon, The (Wiltshire), 64

Awe, The, 307

Aylmer, 598

Aytoun, William Edmonstoune,
493, 544

Backhouse, William, 175
Badenoch, 429, 430, 494
Bahamas, The Chief Justice of
the, 358

Bailey, Mr., 460

Baird, Mr., 71

Bakalahari Tribe, 271

Baker, E., 158

Baker, Ezekiel, 655

Baker (Honourable Artillery

Company), 659
Baker, John, 581
Baker, Lady, 583, 585, 586, 587,

589
Baker, Mrs. Samuel White, 581,

582
Baker, Sir Samuel White, 337,

349, 360, 474, 526, 554 to 594
Baker, Valentine, 555, 556
Bala Lake, 64
Balaclava, 516, 521
Ballater, 180
Balmour, Will, 375
Barclay, Captain, 60
Baring, Mr., 404
Baring, Mr. Alexander, 149
Baring, Mr. Henry, 259
Baring, Sir Francis, 524
Barkby Hall, 412
Barker, Thomas, 1 6 to 21, 40
Barkley Holt, 235
Barnsley, 223

Barrett, Rev. Thomas, 393, 394
Barry, Sir J. Wolfe, 627
Bartellot, Miss Julia, 152
Bartellot, Mr. Hooker, 152
Barton Mills, 60
Bass Prize, The, 645, 646
Bates (of Warwick), 654
Bavarian Alps, The, 521
Bayard, Lieutenant, 469 to 474,

477
Beacon Lodge, New Forest, 457,

461, 462

Beaconsfield, Lord, 542
Beaumont, Sir George, 417

Bechuana, 264

Bechuanas, 270, 271, 290

Beckford, Peter, 409

Beddingfield, Commander, 522

Beddoes, Dr. 301

Bedford, Francis, Duke of, 211

Beeby, 413

Bell, Sheriff Henry Glassford, 485

Bellyse, Dr., 237

Belzoni, 87

Benfield, Miss Caroline Martha,

451

Benfield, Paul, 451
Benin and Biafra, The Bights of,

522
Beresford Hall, Staffordshire,

46, 48,49. 51
Berkeley Castle, 225, 449
Berkeley, Colonel (afterwards

Earl Fitzhardinge), 447, 448
Berkeley, Frederick Augustus,

5th Earl of, 447
Berkeley, The Hon. George

Charles Grantley Fitzhardinge,

447 to 483

Berkeley, The Hon. Thomas
Moreton Fitzhardinge, 447,

448 to 450

Bernes, Dame Juliana, 7, 9

Beraes, Sir James, 7

Berry, 569, 570

Berwick, 364, 535, 536

Berwick Advertiser, The, 534

Betts, Corporal, 660

Bickley, 608

Big Game Shooting (Badminton

Series), 342, 349, 359
Bilby, Mr., 85
Billesdon Coplow, 235
Birmingham Canal, The, 64
Bishop, William ("The Bishop

of Bond Street "), 105 to 107

Bisley, 646, 649, 650, 654 to 656,
663, 665, 666

Black Hall, Kincardineshire,
238

BlackwoocFs Magazine, 178, 184,
382, 491

Blair, Alexander, 175

Blandford, Marquis of, 130

Bletchley, 109

r.lnmc, John, 199

Blomfield, Mr., 80

Bobadil, Captain, 423

Bodine, Colonel ("Old Stone-
wall "), 657, 658

Boers, The, 264, 266, 267, 269,

271, 339. 662

Bogardus, Captain, 234, 256
Boke of St. Albans, The, 7
Bokhara, 303
Bolton, 416

Bond, Parson, 134 to 136
Borlase, Mr. John, 300
Borrow, George, 191
Bourbon, Due de, 406
Bowden, 371, 380
Bowstead, Dr. James, 56
Boythorpe, 85
Bracemeol, 16
Brades, Staffordshire, 64
Bradgate, 59$, $<& to 601, 604,

607 to 6 10
Braemore, 622, 623
Hrampton, 608
Brant Broughton, Lincolnshire,

394

Brewer, 199
Brewer, Captain
Brewood, Staffordshire, 70
Bright, John, 484, 4»5
Bright, Mr. R., 460
Brighton, 531

! 555. 556» 65°

672

Britwell, near Burnham, Middle-
sex, 460

Broad Wood Lake, The (Killa-
loe), 69

Brooks, Sir William Cuncliffe,
622

Brougham, Lord, 89, 335

Brown, 608

Bruce, 592

Buckenham, 404

Buckle, Frank, 80

Bucknill, Dr. John Charles
(afterwards Sir), 632, 633

Bucknill, Mr. Justice, 633

Budd, Mr. Edward Hay ward, 91,
233, 234, 237, 238, 243, 405

Burlington, The Earl of, 200

Burns, Robert, 389, 390

Burton, 393

Burton, Esq., Benjamin, 397

Burton, Captain, 544

Burton Hall, Co. Carlow, 397

Burton, Hill, 544

Burton Hounds, The, 393, 398
to 400

Burton, Miss Mary Elizabeth,

397, 398

Burton, Robert, n, 12
Busk, Hans, 633
Butler, " Billy," Rector of

Frampton, 109
Butler, Will, 412
Butt, Mr., 208, 209
Byron, Lord, 84, 318, 452

Cadell, 418
Cadmore, Mr., 144
Caldwell, 180
Caldwell, 654

Caldwell, Mr., of Hilborough,
403

Caledonian Challenge Shield,

The, 653
Callander, 622
Cambridge, 3, 4, 112 to 114, 122,

203, 396, 410, 584, 597, 625,

633. 634, 636, 648, 650, 662
Cambridge University Long

Range Club's Cup, The, 634
Cambridgeshire, The, 411, 605
Cameron, Captain, 530
Cameron, Corporal Angus, 650

to 653, 659

Cameron, Ewen, 613, 614
Campbell, Colonel John, 263
Campbell, Lady Charlotte, 263
Candlish, Dr., 552
Cantrell, Mr. John, 468
Capetown, 341
Garden, Rev. Dr., 299
Cardwell, Mr., 524
Carlyle, Thomas, 176 to 178
Carrbridge, 183
Carver, Dr., 256
Cassillis Castle, 241
Cassillis, David, ist Earl of, 227
Cassillis, Gilbert, 4th Earl of, 228
Cassillis, $th Earl of, 228
Cassillis House, Ayrshire, 230
Cassillis, The Earl of, see

Kennedy, Archibald, Lord
Castle Combe, Wiltshire, 417
Cathcart Hill, 515
Cathcart, Sir George, 515
Cawston, Miss Eliza, 85
Cellina, 604

Centennial Match, The, 655
Cesarewitch, The, 605
Ceylon, 559, 580 to 582, 587, 591
Chaillu, Du, 525
Chalk Stream Studies, in, 379
Chalkhill, Esq., John, 42
Chambers' s Journal^ 497

673

Chantilly, 129, 406

Chantrey, Sir Francis, 217 to

221, 611

Charles I., 38, 395
Charles II., 34, 395
Chatterton, Major, 153
Chesterfield, The Earl of, 46, 559
Childe, Mr., 100 to 102
Chili, 358
Chillington Pool, in Brewood,

Staffordshire, 70
Clarence, The Duke of, 139
Clarendon, 46
Claudet, M., 260
Clifton, 301
Clinker, 236, 237
Cockerington, Lincolnshire, 417
Cocks, Miss Katherine, 606, 607
Codrington, Sir William, 520
Cokayne, Miss, 53
Coke, Mr. Edward, 204
Coke, Mr. William, 222, 232,

250 to 254

Coke, The Hon. Colonel, 225
Coke, Thomas (Viscount Coke

of Holkham, and Earl of

Leicester), 200, 201, 202
Coke, Thomas William (Viscount

Coke of Holkham, and Earl of

Leicester), 129, 201 to 224,

232, 250, 251
Coke, Wenham Roberts, 202,

205, 224
Colchester, 113
Cole, Mary, 447
Colesberg, 266, 341
Collins, Mortimer, 480
Collyer, Mr, 219
Combe, George, 544
Compleat Angler, The, 2, 15,

16, 22 to 25, 27, 28, 35 to 38,

40, 421044,49, 51, 70, 317

VOL. II.

Compleat Gamester, 54
Cond6, Prince de, 129, 406
Conolly, Captain, 303
Consort, The Prince, 404
Constantinople, 357
Contin, 494, 495
Conway, General, 206
Cookc, Sir William, 223
Cortis (of Sussex), 654
Coryton, Mr., 299
Cottesmore Hunt, The, 401
Cottingham, 127
Cotton, Charles, 22, 23, 28, 35,

421055, 129

Cotton, Senior, Charles, 46
Cotton, Dr. Nathaniel, 338
Cotton, Joseph, 338
Cotton MS. (Tiberius, A 3), 5, 6
County Chronicle, The, 70
Cracroft, Miss, 397, 398
Crago'er, 375, 432
Cranford, Middlesex, 449, 450
Cranwick, 403, 404
Creedmoor, 645, 657
Crerar, John, 424, 430, 438
Crimean War, The, 357, 358,

512 to 522, 582
Cromer, 159
Cruickshank, Mr, 239
Culloden, 59
Gumming, Mr., 250
Gumming, Roualeyn George

Gordon, 262 to 295, 341, 342,

345' 527, 59° to 592
Gumming, Sir William George

Gordon, 263
Cupar, 536
Cuvier, 335
Cyprus, 587

Dagenham Reach, Essex, 64
22

674

Daniel, Esq., William, 113

Daniel, Rev. William Barker, 108
to 131, 216

Danube, The, 312

Davies, Gilbert Giddy, 296, 301

Davy, John, 304, 306, 307, 312

Davy, Lady Humphry, 311, 334

Davy, Robert, 297

Davy, Sir Humphry, 7, 217, 296
to 336, 378

Dawson, Joseph, 604, 605

Days and Nights of Salmon-
fishing on the Tweed, 376,
377, 418, 431, 433, 445

Dee, The, 183

Delm6-Radcliffe, Mr., 409, 410

Denny, Mr., 252, 253

Dennys, John, 15, 1 6

Derby, The late Earl of, 596

Devna, 357

Devon, 650, 654

Devon, The Earl of, 632

Diary of Master William

'•» Silence, The, 12

Dibdin, Rev. Thomas Frognall,
151

Dickens, Charles, 545

Dickson, of Edinburgh, 265

Dillwyn, Mr., 306

Dingwall, 495

Dingwall, Mr. Alexander, 183

Diophantus, 605

Dobrudja, The, 582

Doe, J. H., 650

Dollymount, 657

Doncaster Subscription Rooms,
231

Donne, 14, 40, 47

Douglas, Captain, 235 to 237

Douro, The, 137, 138

Dove, The, 23, 42, 46

Downe, Lord, 74

Downham, near Clitheroe, 17, 92
Downshire, Marquis of, 456
Doyle Competition, The, 646
Driffield Beck, East Riding, 116
"Druid, The," no
Drumlochty Moor, 198
Dryburgh, 370, 431, 432
Dryden, 316, 535
Dudley Cup, The, 645
Dudley, Rev. Bate, 109
Duff, James, 265
Duff, Mr. Grant, 544
Duins, Priscilla, 89
Duke of Cambridge's Prize, 634,

638, 645

Dumfries, 653, 654, 656
Dundee, 542
Dunham, 607
Dunottur, near Stonehaven, 231,

239

Dunrobin, 313, 622

Durham, 388

Dutton, James Lennox, 205

Dutton, Miss Jane, 205

Eales, R.N., Dr., 524

Baling, 159

Ebberston, Yorkshire, 251, 405

Edinburgh, 62, 167, 169, 176, 180,
184, 1 86 to 1 88, 229, 309, 436,
489, 490, 501, 533, 536, 543

to 545, 553
Edinburgh Angling Club, The,

533
Edinburgh Review, The, 184,

379. 546

Edmonton Marshes, 158
Edward III., 416
Edwardes, 604
Edwards, Dr., 301
Egg, Charles, 94
Egg, Henry, 94
Egg, John, 98

675

Egg, "Old," 98

Eglinton, The Earl of, 445

Eglinton Tournament, The, 445,
456, 642

Eglintoun, 229

Egypt, 583, 584

Elchies-water, 442

Elcho, Lord, 642

Elcho Shield, The, 255,636,637,
642, 645, 646, 648, 649, 657,
661

Elgin, 238, 544

Elleray, 169 to 172, 176

Elliott, 524

Elliott, Hon. J. E., 384

Elliott, Mr., 127, 234

Elvaston, 46

Elvedon, Suffolk, 407

Emin Pasha, 586, 587

Enfield Chase, 158

Enville, Staffordshire, 595, 601,
602, 607, 608, 6 10

Erne: its Legends and Fly-
fishing, The, 385

Eton, 202, 263, 417

Ettrick, 433

Ettrick Forest, 171

14 Ettrick Shepherd, The," see
H°g& James

Eurydice, 411

Euston, Lady, 453

Euston, The Earl of, 453

Evesham, 240

Exeter, 150

Experienced Angler, 32 to 34

Faa, Johnny, 228
Faithful, Dr., 596
Falconers' Club, The, 60
Falconer's Hall, 85
Falkirk, 58

Kannich, 622
Faraday, 311
I arquharson, Mr., 238, 404

iharson, M.P., Mr., 655
Favourite Flies, 8
Fellowes, Mr Hmry, 101

tr, Perthshire, 239, 254
Felsted, 112, 113
Female Angler, The, 8, 9
Fenton, Captain, 636
Fergusson, Sir William, 524
Field and Covert Shooting

(Badminton Series), 223, 405,

600
Field, The, 400, 464, 465, 468,

477

Fife Herald, The, 536
Fifty Years of My Life, 206, 207
Findlay, 170

Fishbourne, Polly, 215, 216
Fisher, George, 223
Fitzhardinge, Earl, see Berkeley,

Colonel
Five Years of Hunter's 1

the Far Interior of South

Africa, 262, 292
Fletcher, Isaac, 173
Flint, Captain William, 78 to 8l
Floud, Rachel, 42
Fly-fishers' Club, The, 70
Foljambe, Mr. Georgi
Forres, 61, 62

Forsyth, Rev. Alexander John, 96
Fort Augustus, 292, 294
Riley, U.S.A., 474
Foulkes, Captain A. G., 645
Charles James, 76. 207
pton, 109

France, 8 1 to 84, 86, 462, 463. $2 l
Franck, Captain Richard, -i t«»

28, 57, 65
Fraser, James, 454

676

Eraser's Magazine, 438, 452,

453. 538

Fremantle, Hon. T. F., 655
Froude, James Anthony, 175
Froy, Commander Le, 523
Fry, Mr. C. B., 168
Fulford, Mr. E. D., 234
Fulton, Major, 657

Gainsborough, 206

Galton, Francis, 359

Gardemsure, 41 1

Gardiner, Major Richard, 209,

210

Garibaldi, G., 522
Garrard, Mr., 62
Garrat, Philip, 431
Geheimniss, 605
Geneva, 334, 335
Gentleman's Magazine, 59, 113,

114

George III., 206, 396
George IV., 396
Gibbes, 560
Gibbs, Captain, 645
Gibbs, Major H. C., 656
Giddy, Gilbert, see Davies,

Gilbert Giddy
Gifford, Lord, 340
Gifford, Mr. C. F., 70
Gladstone, Mr. W. E., 584
Glasgow, 59, 167, 390, 612
Glasgow, Earl of, 240, 595
Glasgow University, 59, 167
Glen Artney, 622
Glencoe, 613
Glenmore, 595
Gloucester, Duke of, 214
Glover, Archdeacon, 218
Godsal, Lieutenant, 658
Gold Medal, The, 645, 659

Goldsmith, 535

Goodson, Admiral, 30

Gordon, General, 587

Gordon, George, Duke of, 229

Gordon, Mr. John, 177, 178

Gordon, Mrs., 169

Gordonstown, 263

Gosden, 30

Gould, Mr., 623

Graham, Mr. H. G., 538, 543

Grahamstown, 264, 341

Grange Park, 149

Grant, Captain, 238

Grant, Captain (the Explorer),

583, 584

Grant, Duncan, 442, 443

Grant, Mrs. (of Laggan), 184

Granville, Earl, 530, 624

Grave, Robert, 173

Gravesend, 647

Gray, George, 366

Greenfield, 95

Grentesmainell, Hugh, 599

Greville, R.N., Captain, 251, 252

Greville, Mr. Charles, 248, 449

Grey, Earl de, 407, 60 1

Grey, Lady Jane, 598

Grey of Groby, Lord, 596

Grey of Wark, Lord, 395

Grey, William (9th Earl Stam-
ford), 610

Grinsell, Mr., 39

Griqualand, 264

Groby, 596, 599, 607

Gronow, Captain Rees Howell,
257, 258

Groombridge, near Tunbridge
Wells, 358

Gurney, Mr. Hudson, 221

Guthrie, Thomas, 532

Gwydyr, Lord, 612

Gwynne, Nell, 43

Jlt&CJ

Hadham, 159

Haggerstone, Northumbcrlaml-

shire, 364
Haileybury, 339
Halford, Sir Henry St. John, 636,

644, 647, 648, 656, 662
Haliburton, John, 384, 431, 432
Halifax, 64

Hall, General John, 602
Hamilton, Duke of, 72
Hamilton House, 72
Hamond, Mr. Robert, 402
Hampton Court, 137
Hanbury, Mr. George, 401
Hannay, James, 544
Harbord, Sir Henry, 210
Hare, Commodore, 403
Harrington, The Earl of, 46
Harris, 125
Harris, Sir William Cornvvallis,

262, 341

Harrold Hall, Hertfordshire, 451
Harrow, 451
Harrowgate, 419
Hart, R.A., Mr. Solomon, 617
Hartford Bridge, 125
Hartshorne, Rev. Charles Henry,

5

Hastings, Marquis of, 604
Hatfield, 596
Hawick, 186, 187, 654
Hawker, R.N., Captain Peter,

153
Hawker, Colonel Peter, 94, 96

to 102, 104, 132 to 153, 189,

190, 213, 644
Hawker, Colonel Peter Ryves,

133

Hawker, Miss M. E., 153
Hawker, Mrs., 151
Hawker, Peter William Lanoe,

152

Hawkosworth, John, 21 (\ 217
Hawkins, Dr. William, 43
Hawkins, George, 88
Hawkins, Sir Jol

y, General, 58

Hay, Sir Andrew Leith, 238
Ha/litt, Mr. Carew, 5
Heaton, Captain, 256, 649
Hempsted, Dr., 152
Henderson, John, 382
Henderson, Mr. William, 388
Hendricks, 282 to 285
Herbert, 40
Hesse, Captain, 258
Hibbert, Joe, 214, 215
Higginbotham, 433, 434
Hilborough, 411
Hoare, Mr., 117, 118
Hogg, James ("The Ettrick

Shepherd"), 171, 172, 182, 193,

492 to 494, 534
Holkham Game Book, The, 213,

225
Holkham (Norfolk), 199 to 206,

208 tO 220, 223 tO 226, 232,

250 to 253
Hollick and Betstyle Woods,

near Colney Hatch, 1 58
Holme, Captain, 636
Holt, John, 154 to 161, 213
Holyoake, Mr. Francis, 236
Hooker, 40

Houghton Fishing Club,
Hounslow, 657
Hounslow Heath, 104
Hughes, Judge, 17$, 337 to 339,

3S»

Humphries.
Hungary, 583

>tg Grounds of tkt Old

World, The, 521
Hunt, Mr., 64

6y8

Huntley, 238
Hussey, John, 95
Hutchinson, Colonel, 47
Hutchinson, Mrs. Lucy, 31, 47
Hutchinson, Sir Thomas, 47
Hutton, Mr. R. H., 553
Huxley, Professor, 545
Hythe, 645

Ick, Lieutenant, 638 to 641
Icklesham, 629
Imaus, 605
Inchiquin, Lord, 29
India, Sport in, 264, 266, 339,
340, 509 to 512, 527, 528, 529,

574, 587

Indian Championship, The, 637

Inkerman, The Battle of, 514,
515, 516, 520,631

Innerleithen, 493

Instructions to Young Sports-
men, 961099, 133, 152, 153

Inverness, 183, 238, 260, 494, 496

Inverness Courier, The, 534

Ipswich, 134

Ireland, 168

Ironmongers' Company, The, 39,
42

Italian Alps, The, 521

Italian Revolution, 522

Jackson, 595, 608

Jackson, Mr. F. J., 349

James of Hereford, Lord,|623, 624

James II., 34, 43

Japan, 587

Jeffery, Lord, 221

Jenkins, Mr., 127

Jephson, Mr., 587

Jersey, 666

Jockey Club, The, 238
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 56, 326
Johnstone, George, 432
Johnstone, John, 534
Jones, Inigo, 200
Jopling, Joe, 622
Jordan, Mrs., 240

Kalahari Desert, 339

Kansas City, U.S.A., 468

Keats, John, 368, 498

Keen, Charles, 309

Kelburne, Lord, see Glasgow,

Earl of

Kelsey of Leicester, 653
Kelso, 169, 309, 373, 485, 496,

501, 505, 507
Ken, Dr., 43
Kendal, 170
Kenmure Castle, 69
Kennedy, Lord Archibald, 222,

227 to 242,245, 250, 251, 256,

257

Kennedy, Lord Gilbert, 227
Kennedy, Rev. Ross, 534
Kennedy, Sir Archibald, 229
Kent, William, 200
Kessock Ferry, 183
Kett, 207

Kettle, Mrs. Rosa Mackenzie, 481
Keyham, 149
Keyhaven, 141
Khartoum, 583
Khedive, The, 584
Kilmarnock, 536

Kilmarnock Chronicle, The, 536
Kings of the Turf, 240, 245
Kingsley, Charles, in, 139, 175,

197, 379. 445

Kingussie, 650, 652, 653, 659
Kipper Hall, 374, 432

679

Kistimah, 510, 511
Kleinboy, 276 to 281
Knecht, Jacob, 638
Kneller, 643
Knox, John, 363

Lacey, Lieutenant, 638
Lady Augusta, 604
Lady Kirk, 536
Laggan, 184
Lagos, 522 to 524
Laidlaw, William, 316
Lake 'Ngami, 353, 355
Lamb, Major, 657
Lambert, Daniel, 130
Landon, Letitia Elizabeth, 452
Landseer, Charles, 418, 426, 431
Landseer, Sir Edwin, 418, 426,

431, 611 to 619
Lane, James Fox, 222
Lang, Mr. Andrew, 487, 498
Langley Park, 239
Langnewton, 364
Larks and the Hawk Hills,

Essex, 158

Lascelles, General, 129
Lascelles, Rev. Mr., 129
Lawrence, Sir John, 246
Lawson, Sir Wilfrid, 128
Laybach, 312
Lea, The, 24
Leale, Miss, 666
Lee, Dr. Robert, 544
Lee, Mrs. Elizabeth Aldersley,

29,30

Lee, Esquire, Thomas, 29
Leece, Mr. 639, 640
Leech, John, 130, 620, 621
Lees, Lady, 358
Leicester, Robert Blanchmains,

Earl of, 599

Leicester, The Countess of, 200

to 203
Leicester, The Earl of, 190^ 222,

224 to 226
Leicester, The 1st Earl of, see

Coke, Thomas
Leices :rul Karl of, see

Coke, Thomas William
Leith, 487, 488
Leland, Mr. Charles, 416
Lely, 597, 643
Leslie, 612
Lessudden, 390
Lett, 158

Letters to Dead Authors, 498
Leven at Balloch, The, 6$
Leveson, Major Henry Astbury

("The Old Shekarry "), 508 to

531
Lexington, Robert Sutton, 1st

Baron, 395, 396
Leytonstone, 338
Lichfield, The late Earl of, 596
Lichtenstein, Prince, 129
Liebig, Justus von, 313
Life of an Angler, 388
Lilleshall Limeworks, 70
Lillywhite, 595, 608
Ijmosina, 605
Limpopo, The, 345
Lincoln, 398, 399, 403
Lincoln, Lord, 129
Lind, Jenny, 643
Linford, 402, 404
Lingford, 403
Links, The, near Newmarket,

412

Lintrose, near Cupar Angus, 341
Liverpool, 169, 464, 465. 477
Livingstone, Dr. David, 270, 291,

293. 339. 342, 345. 346» 349 to
354, 359. 530

68o

Livingstone, Mrs., 355

Lloyd, Rev. David, 555

Lloyd, Rev. Griff, no

Loch Achilty, 494

Loch Alvie, 66

Loch Awe, 180, 181, 198

Loch Bardowie, Stirlingshire, 62

Loch Earn, 612

Loch Garve, 494

Loch Katrine, 612

Loch Ken, Galloway, 69

Loch Linchart, 494

Loch Lomond, 63, 70, 72, 612

Loch Luichart, 622

Loch Maree, 331

Loch More, 622, 623

Loch Petullich, 65, 66

Lochmaben, Dumfriesshire, 20

Lockhart, John Gibson, 178, 300,

314, 418, 419, 439
London, 28, 39, 93, 150, 152, 169,

202, 302, 310, 312, 383, 396,

413,445,507,553,556,599,619
Longford Hall, Derbyshire, 202,

204, 205, 208, 223
Longman, Mr. Norton, 349
Longparish, Hampshire, 100,

133, H6, 151 to 153
Lonsdale, Lord, 400
Lord Ly on, 411
Lord's Grove, Southgate, 158
Lords -z/. Commons, 655
Lough Crew, 205
Lovelace, Richard, 45 to 47
Lymington, 141, 149
Lypiatt Park, 556
Lyttelton, Lord, 76
Lytton, Lord, 409

Mabotse, 342
Macaulay, Dr., 545

M'Creath, Corporal, 651

Macdonald, Lord, 255, 256

Macgregor, Bessie, 495, 496

Macgregor, Dr., 516

Macgregor, Mr., 495

Maclaren, Charles, 536, 540

Maclaren, M.P., Duncan, 543

Macleod, Norman, 532

MacVittie, of Dumfries, 653 to
656

Madden, Mr. Justice, 12

Madras, 509

Magdala, 530

Maginn, Dr. William, 452, 454

Maharajah of Kolapore's Cup,
The, 656

Maidwell, Northamptonshire, 644

Malham Water, near Settle, 1 16

Malmesbury, Lord, 481

Manchester, 649

Manton, John, 93, 94, 473

Manton, Joseph, 82, 83, 91 to
107, 190

Mar Forest, 254

Marbury, Mrs. Mary Orvis, 8

Marks, Mr. Stacey, 615

Marriott (4th West Yorks Vol-
unteers), 639

Marston, Mr. R. B., 39, 42, 43

Martin, Major, 477

Massam, Miss Elizabeth, 230

Massingham, Alicia ((( Mrs."
Thornton), 77 to 85

Massingham, Amelia, 78

Mathevvs, Charles (the elder), 87

Matthews, Colour-Sergeant, 654

Maule, Mr., 387
Maxwell, Sir Herbert, 445
Maxwell, Sir William, 232, 240
Maxwellheugh Mill Anna, 501
Maybole Tower, Ayrshire, 228
Melbourne, Lord, 222, 633

68 1

Melrose, 418, 442, 439
Melton, 237, 245
Melton Movvbray, 243
Menzies, Sergeant, 659
Merest, Mr., 404
Merry, Old, 122 to 124
Mertoun, 376, 384, 432
Metford, Mr., 646, 647, 649
Meynell, Hugo, 409
Michie, Mr., 501 to 503
Mildenhall, 246, 247, 254
Milford, 151
Millais, Mr. John Guille, 620,

622, 624, 626, 629
Millais, Sir John Everett, 611,

619 to 630

Millais, William, 619, 627
Miller, 625, 626
Miller, of Bristol, 647
Milner, Mr. J. K., 657, 660
Minto, Lord, 384
Missionary Travels, 293, 349
Mist, Mr., 126
Moffat, Dr., 269, 270
Monk, General, 34
Monreith, Wigtownshire, 232,

240

Montagu, Lord, 16
Montagu, Sir Samuel, 70, 72
Montgomerie, Alexander, Lord,

229
Month in the Forests of France,

A, 462

Moody, Tom, 400
Moore, William, 265
Moseley, Mr., 404
Mount Benger on Yarrow, 492
Moyles Court, near Kingwood,

126

Muckross, 642
Muirhead, Mr. James P. 218,

221

Mundcn, Essex, 85

Mu ml ford, 404

Miirrhison, Sir Roderick, 584

Mure, Mrs., 180

Murray, Mr, 341, 344, 353

Murthley, 623, 626

My Winter Garden, \ \ \

Myster, Esq., John, 59

Napier, Sir Robert, 530

Naples, 522

Napoleon, First Consul, 83, 84,

244, 311

Neaves, Lord, 544
Nelaton, Dr., $24
Nelson, Lord, 244, 31$ 320
New Forest, 126
New Hall Pond, Essex, 1 16
New River, The, 24,619
New York, 464, 465, 474. 4?6
Newark, 395
Newark Hill, 314
Newcastle, His Grace the Duke

of, 524

Newera Ellia, Ceylon, 580, 581
Newlands, Rev. Henry, 385
Newmarket, 604, 607, 609
Newmarket Heath, 403
on Abbot, 587
ton Cup, 639
Nicholson, 410
Nock, 158
NocUs Ambrosiana, 162 to

164, 184, 185, 227, 422, 506,

536
"North, Christopher," sc>

son, Professor John
Northern Memoirs, 22 to 27
Norwood, Nottinghamshire, 398
Notes on the Rifle, 65$
Nottingham, 2iv

682

Oakley Hounds, The, 45 1

Oaks, The, 605

Okehampton, 659

O'Kelly, Colonel, 77

Old Hats Club, Ealing, 159, 233

"Old Q," see Queensbery,

Marquis of

" Old Shekany," see Leveson
Oliphant, Mrs., 167
Olivers, 401

One Thousand Guineas, The, 604
Orange River, The, 264, 341
Orford, Earl of, 60
Ormonde, Lord, 29
Orsett, Essex, 460
Osbaldeston, Mr. George, 213,

227, 233, 237, 243, 248, 249,

251, 254, 257, 393, 394, 397,

404 to 408

Osman Pasha, 512, 519, 520
Oswell, Rev. Thomas, 338
Oswell, William Cotton, 337 to

362, 474, 527, 554, 561
Oswestry, 338
Ovens, Willie, 373
Owthorpe, Nottinghamshire, 47
Oxenham, 365
Oxford, 5, 167, 169, 170, 171, 203,

395, 417,451,642, 644
Oxford, The late Bishop of, 221

Paisley, 165

Paley, Dr., 319

Palladio, Andrea, 200

Pape, 473

Paris, 86, 88, 89, 311, 451, 462

Paris, Dr., 297, 300, 303, 305

to 307, 310

Park, Mungo, 170, 592
Park, Renfrewshire, 382
Parkhouse, Mr., 62

Parr, George, 608
Parry, of Cheshire, 654
Patmore, Coventry, 629
Payne, George, 595
Payne-Gallwey, Sir Ralph, 133,

144, 147, 153

Peacock, Mr. George, 468
Peard, Colonel, 514
Pearson, 135
Pearse, Major, 654
Peel, Colonel, 402
Peile, Rev. H., 596
Penn, 95

Penn, Admiral, 30, 31
Pennant, 64
Penny, Miss Jane, 176
Penrith, 169
Penzance, 297 to 300
Perier, Casimir, 86
Perth, 430

Perth, James, Earl of, 229
Peterkin, 650
Petty, George, 46
Petworth, 127
Philips, General, 129
Phillipps-Wolley, Mr. Clive, 349
Piers of Fulham, 3, 4, 5
Pike, Mr. Warburton, 349
" Piscator," see Walton, Izaak
Planter's Manual, 54
Pont-sur-Seine, 86
Pope, 535
Port Elizabeth, 264
Porter, John, 605
Portsmouth, 556
Portsmouth, The Earl of, 152
Portugal, 139
Poulet, George Julius, 445
Practical Angling, 503
Price, Mr. R. J. Lloyd, 600, 60 1
Prince of Wales's Prize, The, 649
Prince, Mr. 471, 473. 477

Snfrcr

68j

Pucklechurch.Gloucestershire, 1 5
Pullman, of Somerset, 654, 659
Tulney Loch, 438
Purdey, 104, 255, 265, 360
Purdie, Charlie, 314, 439 to 441
Purdie, Tom, 439
Pycroft, Dr., 633

Quarterly Review, 319, 546

Queeni borough, 412

Queen's Prize, The, 259, 635,

636, 639, 645, 650, 651 to 654,

658, to 660
Queensbery, Marquis ("Old Q";,

3i8

Quidenham, 208
Quincey, De, 173, 175, 177, 491
Quorn Hall, 401, 412, 413
Quorn, The, 401, 404, 595, 605,

606

Radical, 236, 237

Raeburn, 167

Raits, in Strathsprey, 61

Ramsay, Dean, 537

Rasay, The, 494

Ratcliffe, 413

Ratford, Joseph, 158

Ravenna, 312

Reade, 141, 144, 145

Reay Forest, 642

Recollections (The Hon. Grantley

F. Berkeley), 455. 47»
Recreations, 162, 164 to 167,

189, 190, 193, 197
Red House Club, The, Battersea,

233. 256, 259

Redcliffe, Lord Stratford de, 519
Redgrave, Mr., 616
Redleaf, 616

Regent, Prince, 309, 318, 448,

449.45<>

Remarks on Rifle Guns, 655
Reminiscences of a Huntsman,

45'. 457
Rhiwlas, North Wales, 601

I . /, 416

Richards, Westley, 105, 106, 511
Richmond, The Duke of, 103, 130
Rifle and Hound in Ceylon,

567. 571, 591
Rimmell, Mr., 234
Ritchie, John, 536
Ritson, William, 173
Rivaz, Miss Agnes, 358
River Angling, 376, 377, &
Roberts, Wen man, see Coke,

Wenman Roberts
Robertson, Captain, 649
Robertson, David (afterwards

Lord Marjoribanks), 536
Robertson, Dr., 180
Robertson, Dr. David, 505, 506
Robertson, Lord, 545
Rockingham, Marquis of, 84, 93
Rome, 203, 204, 312, 334
Roraney, 643

Ros, Lord de, 246 to 248, 250
Rosebery, The Countess,
Ross, Captain Horatio, 222, 227,

233, 235 to 238. 243 to 261,

634, 637

Ross, Colin, 259, 635, 637
Ross, 259, 635, 637,

647, 650
Ross, Hercules, 244. 259. 63$,

637
Rossie Castle, Forfarshirc, 244,

Roth, Fritz von, 512, 513
Rous, Captain (afterwards Ad-
miral), 411

684

Rous, Lord, 127
Roxburgh, 503
Roxburghe Club, 151
Rudgwick, Sussex, 127
Rugby School, 337 to 339
Rural Sports, 112 to 122, 125,

128 to 131
Russel, Alexander, 506, 532 to

553

Russell, Colonel Francis, 248
Russell, "Jack," no
Russell, Lord John, 384
Russell, Miss Mary, 48
Russell, Bart., Sir William, 48
Rutland, The Duke of, 412
Ruyter, 277, 282, 283, 284
Rye, Mr. Walter, 209

St. Albans, 7

St. Albans, The late Duke of,

450
St. Boswell, 363, 364, 379, 380,

415,431
St. Joseph, Missouri, U.S.A.,

466, 467, 475, 476
St. Leger, The, 605
St. Louis, U.S.A., 476
St. Mary's Loch, 492
Salmon, The, 546 to 549
Salmonia ; or, Days of Fly-
fishing, 317 to 328, 332 to 334,

379

Sanderson, 40

Sanderson, George, 374, 376, 431
Sandford Orleigh, near Newton

Abbot, 587 to 589
Sands, Colonel, 221
Sargeaunt, Mr. John, 112, 113,

H5

Sass, M. Firmian von, 583
Saturday Review, The, 508

Savoir Vivre Club, 76, 84
Saxe-Coburg, Prince Leopold

(King of the Belgians), 214
Scotsman, The, 532, 536, 541 to

543. 552

Scott, Andrew, 371, 372
Scott, Dr. S. J., 66 1
Scott, Lady, 418
Scott, Sir Walter, 22, 23, 300,

309, 314 to 316, 319, 330, 378,

417 to 419, 439, 444, 612, 666
Scrope, Adrian, 417
Scrope, Baron Richard, 416
Scrope, Mr. William, 376 to 378,

415 to 445, 612

Scrope, D.D., Rev. Richard, 417
Scutari Hospital, 516
Seasons, The, 16, 109, 367
Sebastopol, 358, 520, 521
Sebright, Tom, 393, 394
Secrets of Angling, The, by

J. D., 14 to 16
Selkirk, 433

Selous, Mr. F. C, 349, 554, 592
Senebrier, M., 489
Serle, Mr., 62
Serpentine, The, 64
Seymour, Colonel, 515
Seymour, Sir Horace, 450
Shaftesbury, Lord, 383
Shaftesbury, The 1st Lord, 542,

543

Shakespeare, William, 12 to 14
Shannon, The, 69
Sharpe, Charles Kirkpatrick, 418,

419

Sheffield, The Earl of, 608
Shelley, Sir John, 214, 215
Sherborne, James, ist Baron, 205
Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 48,

76
Shiel, Tibbie, 492, 493

Shirley, Jack, 400

Shumla, 357

Sichely, 290, 291

Siddons, Mrs., 62

Silistria, 357

Silver Medal, The, 635

Simmons, Field-Marshal Lin-
torn, 357

Simson, William, 417

Sinclair, Robert, 419

Singh, Maharajah Dhuleep, 129,
407

Skeat, Professor, 5

Sloper, Lieutenant-General, 74,

75

Smail, Andrew, 368
Smart, Captain, 651
Smith, Adam, 207
Smith, " Gentleman," 409
Smith, Mrs., 181
Smith, Sir Sidney, 87
Smith, Sydney, 309, 537
Smith, Thomas Assheton, 83,

398, 400, 401, 409
Smith, Tom, 236
Smoker, 459, 460, 461
Smoky Hill Fort, U.S.A., 474
Snowie, Mr., 260, 261
Solent, The, 143
Somerville, John, 533
Somerville, Lord, 418
Somery, Roger de, 599, 600
Sopvvell Nunnery, near St.

Albans, 7, 9
Soudan, The, 572
Southport, 638, 640, 641
Southport Cup, The, 639
Spain, 139
Spectator, 553
Speke, Captain, 583, 584
Spencer, Earl, 244
Spencer, Edmund, 42

Sportascrapiana, 244

Sporting Magazine, 115, 157,

»59
Sporting Tour through the

Northern Parts of England

and Great Part of the High-
lands of Scotland, A, 57
Sprey, The, 494
Spye Park, Wiltshire, 85
Stable, Joseph, 173
Stafil, Madame de, 310
Stafford, 39
Stamboul, 516
Stamford, Lord, 404
Stamford and Warrington,

Countess of, 597
Stamford and Warrington, 4th

Earl of, 604
Stamford and Warringto:

Earl of, 603, 604
Stamford and Warringto:

Earl of, 595 to 610
Stamford and Warrington, 8th

Earl of, 609, 6 10
Stamford and Warrington, 9th

Earl of, 6 10

Stanhope, Miss Olive, 46
Stanhope, Mr. J. Spencer, 218,

219

Stanhope, Mr. W. Spencer, 223
Stanhope, Sir John, 46
Stanley, Sir H. M., 592
Stanley, Sir Hubert, 153
Stanley Water, 621
Statesmen and Favourite if

England, $55
Steele, Colonel, 339, 353
Stephen, Fitzjames, 544
Stephens, Mr. F. G., 613, 6l$,

618

Stephenson, Mr, 206
Stewart, Mr, 62

686

Stewart, Mr. W. C, 503, 504
Stewart, Mr. William, 178, 179
Stirling, 62

Stoddart, Colonel, 303
Stoddart, Miss Anna M., 485,
487, 489 to 491, 493, 497, 501,

503, 504, 507

Stoddart, Miss Helen, 487
Stoddart, Rear-Admiral, 488, 496
Stoddart, Thomas Tod, 484 to

507

Stofulus, John, 276, 282 to 285
Stolberg, Louisa von, see Albany,

Duchess of

Stone, Staffordshire, 154
Storey, Mr. John, 605
Stourton, Lord, 84
Strath -peffer, 494, 495
Strensham, Worcestershire, 48
Stretham Ferry, 122
Strickland, Lieut.-Colonel, 129
Strutt, Esq., J. Holden, 115
Stuart, Mary, 228
Stuart, Prince Charles, 57, 203
Stuart-Wortley, Mr. A. J., 124,

233, 256

Studley, Yorkshire, 407
Sudbrooke Hall, Lincolnshire,

398

Sussex, The Duke of, 214
Sutherland, The Duke of, 313
Sutton, Charles, 410
Sutton, Frank, 410
Sutton, Esq., John, 394
Sutton, Richard, 401, 410 to 412
Sutton, Sir John, 3rd Baronet,

410
Sutton, Sir Richard, 1st Baronet,

394, 396
Sutton, Sir Richard, 392 to 414,

595, 603, 605, 606
Sutton-upon-Trent, 394

Swaffham Heath, 402
Swansea, 306
Swift, Dean, 320, 535
Switzerland, 334, 638
Swyny, Lieut.-Colonel, 514
Symonds, Captain John, 153
Symonds, Mrs. Helen Susan,

153
Syria, 587

Taifs Magazine, 534
Talavera, The Battle of, 138
Talbot, Mr. Henry Fox, 259, 260
Tay, The, 438, 625, 627
Test, The, 153
Teviot, The, 486, 496, 501, 502,

504
Thackeray, W. M., 108, 452,

544, 629

Thames, The, 116, 326
Theodora, King of Abyssinia, 529,

530

Thetford, Norfolk, 405
Thomas, John, 343, 344, 355 to

358

Thomas, Mr., 119
Thomson, James, 16, 109, 367,

368, 535

Thomson, John, 366
Thornton, Colonel Thomas, 56

to 90, 93, 464
Thornton, " Mrs.," see Massing-

ham, Alicia
Thornton, Thornvillia Diana

Rockingham, 89, 90
Thornton, William, 58, 59
Thornton, William Thomas, 85
Thornville, 59, 60, 69, 73
Thornville Royal, 73, 75 to 78,

84, 88, 90
Tillbrook, 87

(Aj

Tillington, near Petworth, 127

Times, The, 508

Tinsley, 608

Tittlcshall, 223

Tobin, John, 318

Tofts, 403, 404

Toland, John, 542

Tomintoul, 183

Tonkin, Mr., 300

Toomer, Mr. Edward, 120, 125

Toomer, Mr. Richard, 119, 120,

125 to 127

Tottenham, 156, 157
Tottenham Marshes, 1 58
Tovvnson, Dr., 112
Treatyse of Fysshinge with an

Angle, 7 to 12
Truro, 299

Tunbridge Wells, 358
Tuscany, The Grand Duke of,

205
Tweed, The, 363, 368, 384, 418,

432, 436, 444, 486, 493, 496,

501, 504, 506, 507, 535, 547
Tweedale, The Marquis of, 353
Tyrol, The, 334
Tyson, Thomas, 173

Ullswater, 175
Upper Stobhall, 627
Urquhart, Sir Thomas, 22

Vale of Yarrow, 486

Vardon, Major Frank, 345 to 347,

352, 353
Varna, 357
Venables, General Robert, 28 to

34

Venables, Mrs., 31
Vernon, Lord, 259

, Mr., 615
Victoria, Queen, 222, 584

Wales, 1 1. KM I The Prince of, 601

n, 3

Waller, Captain, 67
Waller. Mr. Horace, 359
Walpole, Horace, 204
Walsingham, Lord, 223, 405,

408, 600, 602

am, Lord, 117, 118
Walton, Izaak, 4, 7, 10, i

16, 221028,32, 33, 35 to 51,

54, 55, 64, 70, 317, 318, 334,

484, 497 to 499
Wandle, The, 334
Ward, Mr. Dudley, 256
Ward, Private, 650, 659
Warham, 213

Wastdale, Westmorland, 173, 174
Waughr Mr., 172, 173
Weber, Carl Maria von, 1 50
Wedderburn, Lieutenant, 527 to

529

Weeting, Norfolk, 398, 404
Wellesley, Sir Arthur, 136
Wells, Mr., 616
Wemyss, The Earl of, 641
Wentworth House, 84
West Indies, The, 358
West, Sir Benjamin, 334
Westminster, 17
Westminster, The late Duke of,

$96,623

Weatport, Missouri, U.S.A., 474
Wharncliffe, Lord, 588, 59
Wheathampstead, 159
Wheatley, 223
Wheeler, Mr. C. A., 244
:tc, Gilbert, 42, 407

688

Whiteman, of Ashby-de-la-
Zouch, 653

Whittington, Staffordshire, 602

Wight, John, 375, 376, 432

Wilberforce, Dr. Samuel, i, 2

Wild Beasts and their Ways,
567, 572

Wildman, Major, 543

Wilkie, David, 431

William IV., 240, 396

Willsher, 595, 608

Wilson, Jem, 400

Wilson, John, 490

Wilson, Mrs. John, 180, 191

Wilson, Professor John (" Chris-
topher North "), 162 to 198, 227,
328, 33i. 333. 422, 49° to 492,
497, 498, 504, 505, 537

Wimbledon, 259, 623, 631 to 66 1,
665

Winchelsea, 629

Windermere, 171, 172

Windsor, 460

Winfield, 371

Wing, Dr., 237

Wingfield, 5th Baron Cromwell,
48

Winton, Roger de Quency, Earl
of, 599, 600

Winton, Saher de Quency, Earl

of, 599

Wistow Hall, 636, 644, 656
Wodehouse, Hon. E. T., 90
Wolff, Dr; Joseph, 303, 304
Wolley, Mrs. Hannah, 8
Wolverhampton, 607
Wood, Sergeant, 655
Wordsworth, 40, 173, 175, 316,

504

Wortley, Hon. Stuart, 591
Wortley, Mr. Stuart, 233
Wright, Mr. Banks, 412

Yarrow, The Vale of, 486, 487,

492

Yonge, Mary Wilson, 133
York, 58
York, H.R.H. The Duke of, 73,

74, 93, 449, 45°
Young, Lady, 460
Young, Major S. S. 656
Younger, John, 363 to 392, 415,

416,431,433,443

Zambesi, 354
Zouga, The, 350, 435

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