 
CONTENTS.
Colonel W. A. Cardwell, M.F.H.Born in the year 1847, William Alexander Cardwell was entered to foxhunting when nine years old, having been blooded with the Southdown in the fifties when Mr. Donovan held office. He made his mark in the cricket-field among his contemporaries, and when he went to Harrow in 1862, took with him a reputation which gained for him the distinction of being first choice for his House eleven. Unfortunately his health broke down while at school, and in 1864 he had to leave and go abroad under medical orders. After a year or two on the Continent he returned home to finish his education at Oxford, where he found time and opportunity to indulge his taste for sport and games. He was a member of the Bullingdon Club, and in 1869–70 was master of the ’Varsity draghounds. He also played in his College (St. John’s) cricket eleven, and coxed his college eight. Colonel Cardwell was a good lightweight in his young days; he rode in all the College “grinds,” and also in the inter-’Varsity steeplechases at Aylesbury, with a fair measure of success. He was the possessor of a mare named “The Kitten,” in those days, and he cherishes for her memory the affection which is the rightful due of an animal on which the owner won his first race, for “The Kitten” carried Colonel Cardwell successfully in a good many steeplechases. He hunted frequently with the Quorn and the Bicester in his younger days, and has also seen much sport with the Badminton and Vale of White Horse; but residing, as he does, on the south coast, he has of late years done most hunting with the Southdown and East Sussex, after, of course, his own pack, the Eastbourne, of which he has been master since 1895. In August and September he usually hunts with the Devon and Somerset and the Quantock staghounds from Minehead. Sport in Sussex is carried on under very happy conditions; the farmers are a thoroughly good lot of sportsmen who always have a welcome for the hounds, and do all they can to further the interests of the Hunt. Wire, that burning question in so many more conspicuous countries, is practically unknown in the territory of the Eastbourne Hunt. As there is a good deal of game preservation in the country, the Master has considerable difficulty early in the season in arranging meets to suit the convenience of covert owners, who are also shooting men, but his experience is that consideration on the one side is invariably responded to by consideration on the other. Foxes are fairly plentiful in the Eastbourne country; mange gave trouble at one time, but the Hunt is now nearly free from it. Colonel Cardwell has maintained his interest in cricket since his college days, and for twenty years was captain of the Eastbourne club. He was also captain of the Eastbourne Polo Club. Love of polo seems to have been hereditary, for his son, Mr. H. B. Cardwell, was captain of the Oxford Polo Club, and played in the winning team of the Eden Park Club for the County Cup in the years 1901 and 1902. Colonel Cardwell has always taken a great interest in Volunteer Artillery. He raised the 2nd Sussex R.G. Artillery Volunteers, and commanded it for twenty-seven years, having retired only in June, 1903; he has also taken great interest in horsing and training the sixteen-pounder batteries. In 1872 he married a daughter of the late Sir B. C. Brodie, Bart., of Brockham Warren, Betchworth, by whom he has four daughters and two sons, all of whom inherit their father’s sporting proclivities, and ride very straight to hounds. Collection of Indian Weapons.The eyes of the world have been lately turned to the stately progress which has been made by the Prince and Princess of Wales through the length and breadth of our Indian Empire. In a sense they may have had wider and more instructive experiences than fell to the lot of our King when, thirty years ago, he undertook the same Royal duty, and for the first time made the peoples of our great dependency personally acquainted with a Shahzada. But in some respects they have probably found that, since that date, something of the old glamour has passed away from the East. It has more and more assimilated Western ideas, and the great princes and feudatories have all been anxious to show to their future Sovereign how nearly they, their subjects, their armies, and their various public institutions, have approached English models. Practical value has been everywhere in evidence as much as possible, and as the old native picturesqueness has been somewhat dimmed, the ancient characteristics of the land may have been less sharply accentuated. In nothing has this been more seen than in the warlike equipment of the armies of the semi-independent states. All of these, with a view to taking their share in the defence of the peninsula, according to the requirements of modern war, are now trained, equipped and armed like British Sepoys, and the quaint bravery of mediÆval sword, spear, shield, and armour has very generally disappeared. It is worth while, therefore, to say something about these time-honoured arms before they have become altogether things of the past. A quarter of a century ago it was possible to find in India many of the weapons with which the natives had been provided in the days before the Pax Britannica secured the personal security of every individual inhabitant from raid and outrage, before the disarming act had been put in force in all districts under British rule, and while the military forces of semi-independent states still preserved their Oriental character. Now, I am told that, though many weapons may be bought, their genuineness is in most cases more than doubtful. The stock of old weapons has been absorbed in various ways, and there is no longer any production of such things for practical use. The tulwars and daggers which are sold to the globe trotters who, in their thousands, sweep over India during every cold season, are “bazaar made,” i.e., they are made by inferior workmen in the bazaar for sale and not for strife, and are very poor imitations of the real arms once worn by the old fighting men. When I was serving in India, not long after the King’s visit, the country was still comparatively free from the tourist, and anybody who had a taste for Eastern art in any form was able, during his sporting excursions or in his other peregrinations, to meet men who still owned genuine old articles and were not indisposed to part with them, and made acquaintance with English officials and influential natives who were good-natured enough to assist him in his collections. Many Europeans did not take advantage of their opportunities, but fortunately for myself I did not altogether neglect mine, and I now reap the reward by seeing, hanging in my modest hall, such a representative display of Indian weapons as it would be very difficult, if not almost impossible, to procure nowadays without the aid of great influence, much exertion, and a very considerable expenditure of money. Many of these weapons have been used by myself and friends in somewhat feeble attempts to emulate the feats performed with them by natives, and I have therefore a slight personal knowledge of their qualities and characteristics, and may at any rate claim that they have always been to me things of the greatest interest. First let me notice the fact that it is not every Indian sword that can be handled and tested by a European. Our Aryan brethren have very small extremities, and the hilts of their swords do not, as a rule, give space for the more massive and heavily-jointed hand of an Englishman. It seems marvellous indeed how the sometimes ponderous weapons can have been easily wielded by the slight limbs for whose use they were made, but it must be supposed that well-trained wiry sinews may have as much executive power and endurance as bulging muscle, and that the proper method of using the individual weapon may have drawn more upon dexterity than upon the exertion of strength. And here it must be pointed out that, in all specially Oriental feats of arms, success is by no means to be attained by the exertion of great force. It rather depends upon accuracy of eye, perfect coolness of nerve, and deftness of hand. In the particular performance which English soldiers have most eagerly adopted from their Indian comrades and made their own, and has been found such an admirable exercise for promoting horsemanship and soldierly efficiency—tent-pegging—no great strength is required. And, in the same way, the class of swordsmanship for which Indian men-at-arms have been so remarkable is a matter of perfect mastery in handling a blade rather than of weightily applied blows. Probably no more graphic description of the difference which even to-day exists between Eastern and Western swordsmanship was ever written than in the story, in Sir Walter Scott’s “Talisman,” of Richard Coeur de Lion and Saladin giving each other proofs of the powers of their swords. I would fain quote the passage, but it would take up too much space, and I can only suggest that reference be made to it, and, if the whole romance has not before been studied, I congratulate the person who has so much available delight still untasted. So many spectators have watched, in England, illustrations of tent-pegging at military tournaments and other gatherings that it is unnecessary to describe it, but it may fairly be said that the feat requires a higher form of skill and more consummate horsemanship than the old English exercises of a like nature, tilting at the ring or tilting at the quintain, neither of which appeals either to the performer or to the spectator as an example of very formidable fighting qualities. The Oriental ideas about the use of the sword differ so completely from those of Western peoples that they may be briefly referred to. In Europe, the sword has generally been used for a trenchant cut, though the employment of the point has also been cultivated by some nations, especially among the higher ranks. About the only army in history that has used the point alone was that of Rome. The legionaries did little or no cutting, and this was the more remarkable because the Roman broadsword was a very short weapon, and all modern experience has seemed to point out that, if a sword is to be principally used for pointing, it must be of more than ordinary length. But, in the East, the trenchant cut, depending for its effect on the weight and power with which it is delivered, has never found favour, and the use of the point has equally been of very small consideration. The Oriental swordsman has always made use of what may be called a drawing cut, placing against the object that he wishes to sever the edge of his weapon, and either pulling it towards him or pushing it away from him, preferably the latter. The action is not, of course, in itself so instantaneous as that of the trenchant cut, but the whole time consumed by the swordsman is no longer in one case than the other, and may even possibly be shorter, for there is no preliminary swing of the arm and the drawing cut can be delivered without leaving a position of defence. The curved shape of most Oriental sword blades has been adopted for the purpose of giving the greatest effect to the drawing cut, as will be apparent to any one who considers the matter, for the curve naturally follows the action in the most complete manner, the keen edge being in contact with its object throughout the whole length of its blade. How deep an Oriental sword could bite in the hands of a skilful man, when used in the way that has been described, has been proved from time immemorial. On the battlefield it was no unfrequent circumstance to see heads and limbs cut clean off, and the wounds were generally of a terrible character. So well known was the deadly power of the Indian sword that, in our Eastern wars, precaution were often taken by our soldiers to protect with chains the shoulder and forearms (the places at which the enemy most often struck), and this modified form of armour may still be seen in the shoulder chains on one of the many patterns of service coat that have been issued to our cavalry in recent years. Among the most popular feats of swordsmanship that are to be seen even to-day in the East are those that Saladin exhibited to Richard Coeur de Lion, cutting in two a down cushion or severing a floating veil—feats absolutely impossible of execution with a European sabre—and these are done, with many variations, not only dismounted but on horseback at full speed. Then there is the well-known performance of cutting a dead sheep in two. The sheep is hung by its hind-legs from the arm of a sort of gallows, and the swordsman, galloping past, delivers a back cut at it, aiming between the ribs and the haunch, and seldom failing to sever it. This feat, as it is now generally performed, is not so difficult as it may appear from description, for the carcase is skinned, and the backbone, with the slenderest portion of the body, offer really small resistance to a keen blade. But it is understood that, in olden days, it was not usual to skin the sheep, and the presence of skin and wool must then have made the swordsman’s task hard indeed. Many English officers have, with fair success, tried to cut a sheep in two, but, even though they used the curved Eastern sword, they always seemed to perform the feat by main force, and not by the proper use of the drawing cut, and I have in my possession a tulwar with a notch in the blade, showing where, in the hands of a very powerful man, it rent a sheep’s backbone. If a native had handled the weapon no such accident could have happened, for the drawing cut, depending only on the keen edge and the way in which it is applied, could not possibly have chipped the blade, no sudden shock being given by it to the highly-tempered steel. Lemoncutting, which is now often seen in England, was introduced from India, and here again neatness of performance is much more likely to be attained by the drawing cut than by the swashing blow employed by so many of our cavalrymen. True, the swords generally available for our competitions at home are hardly ever sharp enough to be used in the best way, and indeed the clumsy weapon now issued to English soldiers, with its absurd steel scabbard that quickly blunts a keen edge, is ill adapted for any practical purpose whatever. So far, I have only talked about the most common and characteristic swords of India, which, with many minor distinctions and under the names of Tulwar, Selappa, Tegha, &c., &c., are found everywhere from Cape Comorin to the Himalayas, but there are several other swords, completely different, which are peculiar to individual tribes or nations among the vast congeries of races united under British rule or influence. First, the long, straight, double-edged blade, fitted into a gauntlet hilt which, though found in the north and south of India, is best known in the Punjab, where the Sikhs, in their sword play, still practise its use. The generic name of this sword is Pata, and it is said to have been the principal weapon used by the cavalry of the Great Mogul. To a European eye, it certainly appears a somewhat unwieldy weapon and ill-adapted to the purposes of a mounted man. Its blade is over three feet long, and it is fixed in a handle made like a plate mail gauntlet, which covers the arm nearly as far as the elbow. On account of its peculiar hilt, this sword is not manipulated like others from the wrist, but from the elbow; and, as far as I know, it is the only weapon known in the world which does not in some degree demand flexibility of wrist. Unlike the curved Tulwar, which has a rigid and rather narrow blade, the blade of the Pata is broad and flexible, and I have one specimen before me in which the point will almost meet the hilt. The qualities of steel from which the two kinds of swords are made are in this respect very different, but they are alike in that both can take the finest of edges. And all Eastern swords have this also in common, that all have wooden or leather sheaths, so that no risk is run that the edge of the blade shall ever be dulled from want of care. To-day, the Pata is never carried by Indian princes or nobles, even on occasions of state and ceremony, and it is never seen in the hands of anybody except the professional swordsmen, who give exhibitions of their skill at the great fairs and at Mohammedan or Hindoo festivals, such as the Mohurrum or the Dussera. The performances of any one of these men are wonderful. He will show the keenness of his weapon and his command of its weight by cutting in two a leaf laid flat on the outstretched palm of a friend, or by severing a cloth hanging loose in the air. He will then squat down on his hams and will slice from side to side a small nut, which is tossed on to the flat ground in front of him. He will grasp a sword in each hand and, so armed, will spring from his feet and throw somersaults backwards and forwards. Again, with sword and shield in his hands, he will leap head foremost through the stretched-out loop of a rope, held by two men at the height of their heads, as a circus-rider leaps through a paper hoop, and alight safely on his feet. These exhibitions are extremely popular, and the harvest of small change collected by the plucky athlete from the crowd of gaping spectators must do something to prevent the knowledge of the old sword-play from dying out. I have never seen or heard of a European essaying to handle the Pata, and, indeed, I have seldom seen a Pata whose gauntlet hilt would admit the grasp of even a small European hand. Another straight-bladed and double-edged sword is the Khanda of the Rajput, and as the Rajputs are the most long-descended, chivalrous, and warlike of all the nations in India, so was the Khanda held in the highest honour and reverence, so was it worshipped yearly at the festival of the Karga S’hapna as a symbol of Heri, the god of battle, and so was an oath sworn upon it the most binding of compacts. Even to-day the Khanda, or indeed any sword, is recognised as an offering showing the profoundest homage and the strictest fidelity, by the universal Indian custom of presenting the hilt to a superior, who touches it in acknowledgment of the implied loyalty. The Khanda, like the Pata, is made of flexible steel of various degrees of excellence, though all blades are of the most reliable description. A rough test may be given, by which the merit of any particular straight blade may be approximately gauged. If it has one groove running down its length, it is good; if it has two, it is better, and if it has three, it is of special worth. Sometimes the Khanda has a long iron spike projecting from the hilt, and this was probably for the purpose of using the sword double-handed in case of need, and it could possibly also serve as an additional weapon in a close mÊlÉe. It is to be remarked that, in using the Pata, Khanda, and other straight swords, the drawing cut is still the favourite, though the form of the blade involves that it must be somewhat modified. Pass we to a class of swords which demand special remark, on account of their appropriateness to the districts in which they have originated, and of these there are two especially which attract our notice as being essentially the same in character, though they differ somewhat in shape. The Kukri, the national weapon of Nepal, is only eighteen or nineteen inches in total length, and has a blade of bright steel, incurved, heavy, and widening towards the point. It has more the qualities of a good billhook than anything else, and it was no doubt originally devised to do duty as a billhook as much as for fighting purposes, for the Gorkha had to clear his way through the thickly growing vegetation of the Terai forests. I have often lent to my shikaris, when shooting in the Western Ghauts, a Kukri for use in the jungle, and it always proved invaluable. What a handy tool it is in the grasp of its true proprietor, the Gorkha, is well known—how formidable it is as a weapon, those who have been in action with our Gorkha battalions can emphatically testify, and this can be the more clearly realised when it is told that, with his Kukri, the Gorkha can strike off the head of a bullock at one blow. Like the Gorkha Kukri, the Ayda Katti, the big knife of the Coorg mountaineer, derives its shape from the daily requirements of life in dense jungles. The heavy monsoon clouds which, in their course, first meet and void their moisture on the hilly west coast of India, nourish an extraordinarily luxuriant vegetation, and the tribesmen there found the constant want of an implement to cut a path through the lush bamboos and creepers. The Coorg knife is about the same size as the Kukri, but is wider and heavier. It has also an incurved blade, and is equally useful for all the services of peace. The men of Coorg have had no recent experience of war, but legend tells that, sword in hand, they were in old days dreaded for their prowess in battle. The army of Hyder Ali found the Nairs (Coorg tribesmen) the most redoubtable opponents that it had to deal with before it had the ill-fortune to be marched against British battalions. The Coorg knife has the peculiarity that it alone, of all varieties of swords, never has a sheath. It is so constantly required on the west coast that it is generally carried in the hand ready for immediate use. When, of necessity, it is put aside, it is carried, still with the blade uncovered, slung across the owner’s hips. No record of Indian swords would be complete without some mention of the Salawar Yataghan, the Khyber or Afghan knife, though perhaps it more properly belongs to the frontier. This is the weapon that in the hands of the Ghazis, drunk with bhang and lust of slaughter, has, in the actions on the North-West Frontier, done such stern work, and has also been signalised as the terrible instrument with which the wounded, who fell into Afghan hands, have ever been bloodily dispatched and mutilated. It has a broad, heavy, single-edged, straight-backed blade with a sharp point, and is so balanced that its trenchant cut is weighty indeed. The Afghan gives no drawing cut with his Yataghan, but cuts like a European and, on occasion, uses the point. The weapon seems to be especially devised for the use of desperate men who wish to kill, without any thought of protecting themselves, for its handle being absolutely plain and unguarded like that of an ordinary carving knife, it can never be used effectively for warding a blow or parrying a thrust. The blade is generally about two feet and two or three inches long, and, made of bright steel, seems to derive its strength from its proportions and its thickness rather than from high temper. The Salawar Yataghan cannot be classed as a weapon adapted to any of the scientific niceties of swordsmanship, but must be thought of rather as a murderous knife, fit alone for purposes of slaughter. There are other forms of swords to be found on the frontiers of India, the Burmese Dha, the Malay Kris, &c., &c., but none of them have any special merit as warlike weapons, and they are really almost impotent for attack or defence when opposed to the more well-considered weapons of more cultivated peoples. All of them have their limitations of value; they can inflict injury, but from their form they are essentially feeble in defence. It was natural that swords, in their hilts, their blades and their sheaths, should, from the variety and general elegance of their shapes, have been the basis of ornament to a very great extent. The Monarch, the great Prince, or the warlike leader of men has, if he allowed himself ornament at all (and here be it remarked that the most potent individuals have almost always been remarkable for their personal simplicity), generally lavished such ornament upon his sword, the emblem of his power. And when he sent a gift to a brother potentate, or a man whom he delighted to honour, it was not infrequently a sword of the most perfect quality, adorned with jewels and workmanship of notable value. The ornamentation of swords gives to us a strongly-marked and trustworthy indication of the religion and often of the nationality of the men who fashioned them. There is as much difference between the artistic ideas of the north and south of India as there is between the delicate and graceful architecture of the great Mohammedan shrines and palaces, and the heavy, massive and sometimes grotesque construction of the old Hindoo temples. To enter into all the peculiarities of ornament would take too long, but it may shortly be said that, bearing in mind that it is contrary to the Prophets’ law to reproduce the similitude of any living thing, a sword ornamented with delicate tracery and a floral pattern may generally be supposed to come from a Mohammedan race in the North, while one bearing representations of men, beasts or birds, has probably been made in the Brahminical South. All kinds of materials have been used in ornamenting swords. Besides precious jewels, gold and silver, a place has been found for Jaipur enamel, Koftgari work, Bidri work, &c., &c., and all means have been taken to add to artistic beauty, contrast of colour and intrinsic value. If any one would see how rich is the effect thus produced, let him take an opportunity of visiting one of our great national collections, those places full of articles worthy to be “stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings.” There is one most invaluable quality in which all Eastern swords are well-nigh perfect. They are all most admirably balanced and can all be most effectively employed with the minimum of personal exertion. To appreciate this transcendent quality at its proper value, it is only necessary to handle an English cavalry sword, which is as much lacking in true balance as any Indian sword possesses that most essential character. The West has still some lessons to learn from the immemorial East. To talk of the swords only of India has exhausted all my space, and yet but a very meagre sketch has been accomplished. Perhaps what has been written may, however, induce some reader to make an exhaustive study of the subject. He would surely be rewarded by learning much that is of the highest artistic, historical and practical value. The other weapons of India, and there are many, are of nearly, if not quite, equal interest. Perhaps I may some day be allowed to say something about them. What Next?Any one who has wielded his pen with the independence which you, Mr. Editor, have permitted me to practise must expect criticism, nor should he turn a deaf ear to it. Critics, friendly or otherwise, have passed judgment on my Christmas dream of sport, my hazy forecast of its future, and some have thrown at me the pertinent query of, “What next would you have us believe, ‘you veiled old prophet of Khorassan’?” My only answer to-day is that of the sucking dove. “Wait and see.” In this new year I do not stand alone when the momentous question is passed round of “What next?” among sportsmen, politicians, and populations. Hard nuts to crack there are on every side, and we envy not the jaws whose lot it is to deal with some of them. Sportsmen, however, are for the most part content to sail with the breeze—contrary winds are troublesome, and they do not like losing sight of old landmarks, albeit in times like the present they are being wafted farther and farther away from them. This their compass, if they will only stop to consult it, must tell them only too truly. Ought they to put back into harbour, or boldly dash on towards other coasts and new scenes, of which it may profit them to know more? Does it not behove them to live and learn in a wider sphere of life than when they started on their life’s voyage; and, as politicians would put it, to think Imperially, even of their sports? Thus they must ere long come to see that in the unison of ideas, the blending of nationalities, and the gradual bridging over of our insular position, we are fated to learn, however unwillingly, that the past and the future stand in an entirely different relation to one another than they have been wont to do. Sportsmen, I would appeal to you. Is it not in your inmost hearts a question of what next all round the country? It was, perhaps, a bold stroke on my part to advocate even the partial extinction of the bookmakers, the reform of the Jockey Club, and the use of the Totaliser, or pari-mutuel, so strongly as I did last month; yet common-sense, expediency and profit seem to put this in the forefront of reforms on the Turf in reply to the question which heads this article. Our object-lesson on this subject is, undoubtedly, France, where, since September last, the bookmaker as such has been totally excluded, and we are indebted to a very lucid and exhaustive letter from a French backer, in the Sporting Times, for a knowledge of the results of its first two months’ working. He tells us that, taking the race meetings of Longchamps, Maison-la-Flite, Chantilly, Auteuil, Colombus, St. Ouen, St. Cloud, Compiegne and Enghien, the sum of 5,927,318 francs (£237,092) more were taken at the mutuel than in 1904, the total takings from September 3rd to November 13th, 1905, being 66,917,515 francs (£2,676,700), against, in 1904, 55,787,910 francs (£2,231,516), showing an increase of over eleven million francs. It follows that the deduction of 8 per cent., which is made for the benefit of horse-breeding, agriculture and the poor of France, has brought an increase of 890,368 francs (£35,612)! If the same ratio of increased receipts is maintained through next year’s racing, the SocietÉ des Courses alone will secure as its share of the profit about one million two hundred thousand francs! Stubborn facts these, which even the most inveterate Radical voter may take to heart in choosing his candidate for whom to vote, although for this election at least all votes will have been cast ere this article is published. If it were possible to gauge the probable receipts in the United Kingdom of the Totaliser as compared with France, we believe that the figures would considerably exceed those of France, seeing that the stakes annually run for in the United Kingdom, including steeplechasing and hurdle-racing, amount to not far short of a million pounds, and that race-meetings in this country are more widely distributed than in France. I am below the mark in calculating that at least ten times the stakes are made in bets, from which the deduction of 8 per cent, would produce a sum of eight hundred thousand a year. What would the poor, the sick and the honest unemployed give for a dole out of this fund? What would oppressed agriculture, unendowed horse-breeding, or the poor Royal Agricultural Society, say to the chance of a dip into this lucky bag? In almost every other country besides our own where racing flourishes, such an opportunity of effecting an economic reform, without increasing taxation, or interfering with vested interests, has been hailed with delight. In fact, we stand alone as a civilised nation in our abstention from its adoption, yet we have not, as it would seem, the motive power. If our conscientious objectors could but be made to see that by its adoption the worst features of our gambling pursuits would be checked, if not abolished, and that true sport in all its branches would thrive under its Ægis, perhaps our legislature would throw no obstacles in its way. Perhaps then our Jockey Club, always so slow to lead the way, would throw off their vis inertia and become its disciples? Perhaps, however, this important question may remain buried in the lap of the future, unless public attention is called to it ever and again with increasing vehemence, and we are able to see more clearly the bane of our insular position, and the false pride which blinds and prejudices us. I have had the opportunity of discussing this question with many racing men, and with scarcely an exception they have brought no arguments forward antagonistic to it, the majority indeed being its advocates; yet there comes the reiterated cry from those who call themselves practical men: “My dear fellow; how are you going to act about it! What chance is there of obtaining sanction from the legislature?” Supposing I were to suggest the similitude of the bye-gone Welsh remedy, which in its result swept away the multiplication of turnpikes in South Wales some seventy years ago, which materially hindered the traffic between Wales and England. These Welshmen donned the nightdresses of women, calling themselves daughters of Rebecca, who was “not afraid to meet her enemies in the Gate,” and on swift cobs they swooped down at night on all the gates, smashing and burning them. Neither the police nor military could catch one of them, and very soon it began to dawn on the Government that a good reason underlaid this lawlessness. A Royal Commission was appointed, which was the means of an Act of Parliament being passed which swept away the objectionable gates and placed the roads under Government supervision, and they then became the best in the Kingdom. And now to apply the simile. The legislature has decided by the Kempton Park case that a racecourse is not such a public place as stated in the last Betting Act, where betting can be prohibited. Why, therefore, should not the Totalizer be erected there, and betting by such means be allowed just as much and as legally as it is now carried on by bookmakers. This cannot, to my thinking, be considered as a lottery, pure and simple, because it does not depend upon your merely drawing out the lucky number. You have all the prowess of the horses and the skill of their riders weighing in the balance, and you stand in exactly the same position as the man that speculates in stocks, or insures his risks. Why not, therefore, erect the Totaliser on some enclosures on our racecourses? and even should they prove targets for the attack of the police, or possibly the bookmakers, at starting, I believe that ultimately, sooner indeed than later, their case will prevail, and then the greatest and most wholesome reform in racing will take effect. It will then be time for my critics to exclaim, “What next?” As regards hunting, I have only to appeal to your correspondent J. J. D. J.’s article in your magazine of last month, “Is Hunting Doomed?” to show that we cannot hope to see it carried on in many countries in the same haphazard way as of old. Despite the fact that its devotees are as keen and as good as ever, its facilities are narrowed year by year, and its difficulties multiplied. Oh, that it were not so, for as your readers, especially your elder readers, must know, in “Borderer’s” heart as a true sport, where gain or loss has no part, hunting stands alone as the best, most ennobling, and manliest sport that we can enjoy. Cosmopolitan also it has hitherto been. How long it will remain so we dread to contemplate. That also lies in the lap of the future. When the what next of shooting is considered, I confess to being completely carried off my legs. Gunners have of late increased so rapidly in numbers and methods, that we know not where we may not be within the next few years, looking at the fact that circumstances are annually lending themselves to the extension of game preserving, and that the nouveaux riches can so easily indulge in this taste, which requires little learning, and short practice. Its aids to introduction into Society; its excuses for hospitality; its Royal patronage—all bring it immeasurably to the front; and when we read, as we did last month, of over 8,000 pheasants being slaughtered in three days at Vater Priory, we wonder what are the probabilities, or possibilities, or the future of shooting. Truly they can only be measured by the depth of the purse. All else can be thrown in. I see that the Sporting League have issued a manifesto, warning sportsmen of dreadful things which the change in the Government is likely to bring about. Lord Daney’s Betting Bill is to be revived in its worst phases, and the sporting correspondent of Truth vouchsafes the opinion that he will see the sun and the moon drop from the sky before ready money betting will be legalised! This latter declaration fills me with hope, knowing, as we do, how often these truthful prophecies turn out to be fallacious! Nor do I set much value on the fears of the Sporting League, because, if the vox populi is tested, as we are given to understand that it will be under Radical dominion, the betting question is much more likely to take a wider range, and peer and peasant alike will have equal rights of investing their money under perfect security on racecourses without let or hindrance. This can only be accomplished by means of the Totaliser, and working men will soon come to know that the usages of our Colonies and other neighbouring countries to their own have come to appreciate the benefits that it confers on them, and thus they will demand a vote in its favour at home. It will take me a long time to believe that the faddists and the working men are destined to lie down together in perfect peace. Their ideas and methods are so utterly opposed. Indeed, my faith in the coming about of this great reform rests in “the tail wagging the head,” and that if the Jockey Club are to be stirred up, and the middle classes moved to action, it will be done by the progressive shoulder-to-shoulder pressure of the people, when once they appreciate the position, and realise the advantages to be gained, of which no small share will fall to their lot. Thus perhaps the answer to “What Next?” will ring out. Borderer. Foxhounds.THE SIRES OF THE DAY.There will always be a certain amount of controversy in regard to the choice of sires. Some people are bigoted enough still in the belief that good looks and a level formation have nothing to do with the success of hound-breeding, and that attention only should be paid to abilities in the hunting field. If this had been the dictum of the Dukes of Rutland and Beaufort, or of Lord Henry Bentinck, or Mr. G. S. Foljambe, the breed would have well-nigh died out; but the great masters would have necks and shoulders, intelligent heads, deep ribs, straightness in fore-leg, and the round, cat-like foot. There is everything to charm one in the well-bred foxhound, and is there anything like him? The Peterborough Shows have done good in bringing the best-looking together, and in giving opportunities for seeing the best. There has been everything to prove that the best-looking are generally the greatest; they are so in nineteen cases out of twenty, and as they are picked for appearances as puppies, there should be nothing to offend the eye at all in any well-regulated pack. At Belvoir a moderate-looking one even cannot be seen. They are all beautiful hounds, and the difficulty is to find fault. This is the general high standard of the country, and with masters of hounds in great numbers who will have perfect hounds in and out of kennel, the conclusion must be arrived at that there is no other breed of animal so well looked after. The winners of the Champion Prizes at Peterborough during the last twenty years have been very great as sires. What a deal of good can be traced now to the Fitzwilliam Selim, and what a magnificent hound he was; and then there was the Warwickshire Hermit and Harper, the Oakley Rhymer, the Pytchley Paradox and Potentate, the Craven Vagabond, the Puckeridge Wellington, the Cleveland Galopin, and not to forget also the Quorn Alfred, the champion of his time, as did not Tom Firr lead him back a winner? There have been lots besides as either champions or winners in the couples of unentered ones, such as the Dumfriesshire Resolute, who has replenished half the Scotch kennels with good hounds, and the Pytchley Marquis, who stood in the ring with Resolute for the Single Puppy Cup, when the judges, Lord Enniskillen and Mr. Austin Mackenzie, eyed the couple for five minutes before they could decide that the Pytchley young one was a shade the better. Never have two young champions done more for the cause of sport, as to ask concerning all the good that has been done by Marquis is to set John Isaac on the pinnacle of excitement. [PUCKERIDGE.] Belvoir has never shown at Peterborough or any other show. Frank Gillard used graciously to say that it was charity to give other people a chance; but anyway, the ducal kennel has always had plenty of good mention at Peterborough, as a great many winners have been by its sires; and it has become a practice also amongst far distant masters of hounds to visit Belvoir on the day after the show, and thus to extend their insight amongst all exquisites of the foxhound family. It is just thirty years ago (1876) since Belvoir Weathergage was entered, and what an enormous amount of good has come from this single hound. At home he was the sire of Gambler and Gameboy, besides others of lesser note; and for other packs there was the Brocklesby Weathergage, the Fitzwilliam Weathergage, the Grafton Why Not, the Southwold Freeman, and the Warwickshire Why Not, all very noted hounds. One can scarcely say how many more famous sons of Weathergage there were, but just as he was spoken of by Frank Gillard as the best hound he ever hunted, Mr. Rawnsley, of the Southwold, says the same of his son Freeman, whilst very similar in character must have been the Grafton Why Not. In the next generation the excellence was again well continued; as where have better hounds been seen than the sons of Gambler, with Nominal and Gordon at home, and Lord Middleton’s Grimthorpe and Grasper, Mr. Austin Mackenzie’s Rallywood, Lord Galway’s Gambler, and the Grafton General and Gorgon. Gameboy, brother to Gambler, brought more kudos into the famous line, as he was the sire of the Holderness Gaffer, sire of their Steadfast, and the latter has been very useful in many packs. The line has apparently got stronger in years and generations, as from Watchman, son of Nominal, comes Dexter, a great sire certainly during the last six or seven years, and his son Stormer is the most fashionable, if not the greatest, of the day. Belvoir Stormer (1899) is a very grand hound of the Gambler type, but a bit on the big side, good twenty-four inches, but there is all the quality in him of the Belvoir hound, and he has beautiful legs and feet. I make him out to have as much or more Osbaldeston Furrier blood in him than in any other to be found in the Stud-book. It came in through Weathergage, of course, back to Senator, and he got it through his dam Destitute, by Sir Richard Sutton’s Dryden, by Lord Henry Bentinck’s Contest. But then there was so much Senator blood in Gratitude, the dam of Gambler, and again in Needy, the dam of Nominal, as she was by Syntax, son of the Grafton Silence, son of Statesman by Senator, by the Oakley Sportsman, her dam Needless by Contest, out of Novelty, by Senator. The success of Stormer for other packs than his own has been almost extraordinary, and this can be seen in Baily’s Directory, giving the names and the pedigrees of the prize puppies at the various kennel puppy shows. They were first in the Quorn, Tynedale, Duke of Buccleuch’s (in bitches), Pytchley (in bitches), Lord Middleton’s (in bitches), and second in the North Staffordshire (dogs), the latter a remarkable puppy called General (a present as a whelp from Mr. R. Corbett, of the South Cheshire, as he would persistently join the pack when at walk, and hunt like an old one before he was entered). It may be thought that there was more honour attached to Stormer in his earlier days, as the sire of the Atherstone Struggler and Streamer; of Lord Bathurst’s Stentor, unfortunately dead, when he promised to be one of the pillars of the family, as besides being the best puppy of his year at Peterborough, he got some very good stock, as seen by the puppy shows. Then there is Lord Yarborough’s Harbinger, exceedingly good looking, and so good in his work as to have been used in his second season; and some others in various kennels thought very highly of. Stormer, though, was in no degree more useful or popular than his sire Dexter, whose son, Daystar, was supposed to have been the best-looking hound bred at Belvoir since Gambler, but he was unfortunately killed by a kick in the hunting field. Dasher, another son of Dexter, met with a similar fate. Both these hounds got beautiful stock. But besides Stormer, there was another son of Dexter of the same age in Handel, almost more bloodlike in outline than the other, and as the sire of the Warwickshire Traveller to be held much in esteem. Both Stormer and Handel are still in orders at Belvoir. Lord Middleton has a great opinion of his own Dexter by the old Belvoir hound, and he has used him freely. Some very good sorts are brought in through the Birdsall Dexter, as his dam Woodbine was by the Grafton Woodman, so on both sides accounting for his excellence in the field. There is really a plentitude of the Belvoir Dexter and Stormer blood throughout the country, as through the former’s son, Dasher, again comes in the Rufford Furrier, with every promise to become a great sire; and there was a young hound in the Bicester kennels last year called Deemster, by Dasher, out of a beautiful bitch called Bravery, that looked like making a name if he has gone on all right. If a breeder of hounds commenced his operations from the Belvoir Weathergage (1876), there are probably six distinct lines to work upon, or most certainly four, and he need hardly go further afield for blood, but cross from one to the other, just as old Mr. Parry used to do with his Pilgrims and Rummagers, and Mr. G. S. Foljambe did from the brothers Harbinger and Herald. The subsequent occupants of their kennel benches were not too nearly bred, five generations off was old Parry’s plan; but still, they were all blood relations. To speak with any certainty I should take the four lines from the brothers Gambler and Gameboy, and the two others from the Grafton Whynot (1882) and the Southwold Freeman (1885). The Gamblers I have pretty well referred to above, but his brother, Gameboy, was almost as important as the sire of the Holderness Gaffer, sire of their Steadfast, and of Mr. Austin Mackenzie’s Guider and Gambler. Of these Gaffer occupies an important page in the “Foxhound Kennel Stud Book,” as he was the sire of the Warwickshire Sailor, the sire of the Brocklesby Wrangler. Steadfast, again, was the sire of two very good stud-hounds of the present day, namely, Lord Harrington’s Sultan and Salisbury (brothers). The Grafton Whynot was in no degree less important than any of the above, as he was the sire of Workman, sire of Wonder, sire of Woodman, whose good ones throughout the country have been almost legion, to include the Craven or Old Berks Woodman, the Vale of White Horse Worcester, the Grafton Whynot (of 1897), the Puckeridge Chancellor (1898), and the Badminton Whipster (in orders five years). In my most recent travels I have heard of nothing but praise of the Grafton Woodman’s stock, splendid for nose, hard workers, demons on a dying fox, and always dependable for season after season. The old dog was thirteen years old before he was put away last spring, and I shall always regret not seeing him, as, to judge him from every point, he must have belonged to the very greatest. His son, Worcester, in Mr. Butt Miller’s kennels, enjoys the same reputation so closely associated with his sire, as there could be no better foxhound on the line of a fox, and he has got good ones right and left for Lord Bathurst’s, the Duke of Beaufort’s, the Craven, the Morpeth, and other packs all having representatives by him, besides a big following at home. The Craven regretted that their litter by him of three couples were all bitches, as they were so good, and a dog to have been a sire would have been all too acceptable. However, Lord Bathurst has got two very good sons of Worcester in Weathergage and Wellington, who trace back on their dam’s side also to some very telling blood from Mr. Austin Mackenzie’s Dexter, Belvoir Weathergage again, Warwickshire Harper, and Lord Coventry’s Rambler. Cooper thought last year that Weathergage might be the best foxhound in England. He should not be missed, therefore, by hound-breeders. Mr. Butt Miller has naturally several young Worcester sires, the brothers Bandit and Barrister striking me as about the best when I saw them. It is noticeable that the Morpeth’s second prize puppy, Whynot, was a son of Worcester’s. The Bicester have had reason to uphold the Grafton Woodman line, as some of their best are by Whynot, notably a grand third-season dog called Wrangler, who gave one the impression of becoming a stud-hound of note some day. There are two or three of Mr. Heywood Lonsdale’s worth taking a good journey to see, Conqueror being one, and he is quite one of Lord Chesham’s breeding, going back into the Blankney sorts. The second prize puppy of the kennel last year was by Conqueror. To turn again, though, to the Grafton Whynot. I saw him last May, with nine seasons marked against him, and the rumour was that he had been promised to Squire Drake, who might breed a pack again for the Old Berks through this son of Woodman alone, if he could keep the old fellow in useful orders long enough. He got rare stock for the Grafton, and so did his son, Wiseacre, who died too prematurely; whilst another son called Waggoner—still available, I expect—had the reputation of being the hardest driver in the pack. Of the Grafton dogs, though, I liked President the best, and he was out of a Woodman bitch. The next share of usefulness to be credited to Woodman may come from the Puckeridge, as Mr. Edward Barclay bred from him in 1897 with a bitch that went back to old Mr. Parry’s sorts, through Lord Portsmouth’s Gainer, a very noted worker, as I well remember, and got by Mr. Parry’s Gulliver far back in the sixties. Gainer was so good that the late Lord Galway favoured him extensively, entering three couples by him from four litters in 1873. Mr. Lane Fox was one of his patrons, and also Belvoir; but for the latter great kennel he did not get them very good about the knees. The result of Mr. Barclay’s patronage to the Grafton Wonder, was Chancellor, and he was like all the rest of them, quite A1 in his work, and going on into his eighth season, at any rate. He has been bred from for the last five years with bitches mostly of Belvoir extraction, and in the Puckeridge list of 1904 there were eight couples by him in different years; all very good, so Mr. Barclay and his late huntsman, Jem Cockayne, have stated; but the best of all was Cardinal, out of Dauntless, by Belvoir Watchman, son of Nominal, son of Gambler, son of Weathergage, her dam Dahlia by Shamrock, son of Dashwood by Founder, belonging to the Fallible family. A splendidly bred hound, therefore, is the Puckeridge Cardinal, entered in 1902, so now just in his prime. He is a fine big hound also, and so good in his work as to have left a very strong impression upon Jem Cockayne, who was never happy unless Mr. Barclay kept breeding from him heavily, and about the first thing he did when engaged for the North Warwickshire was to get Mr. Arkwright to do the same. He told me he should like to have a kennel full of Cardinals, and really the puppy boxes at Brent Pelham last year were full of them. Another by Chancellor in the Puckeridge Kennel is Colonist, a year younger than Cardinal, but with almost as great a reputation, and bred very like his companion, as he was out of Sarah, by Belvoir Dashwood. Colonist took second prize as a puppy at Peterborough. Yet another line from the ever-telling Belvoir Weathergage may be traced from the Southwold Freeman, who was thought by Mr. Rawnsley to have been the best hound he ever hunted in his life, and for the last twenty years this gentleman has shown a strong determination to hold the line. He had five and a half couples by him before the good hound was a five-year-old, and six couples and a half were entered afterwards from numerous litters. The same line can be traced through several channels at the present time, and to Frantic, sister to Freeman. Much of his has been crossed again to the Grafton Woodman, as Workable, a well-known Southwold bitch, has been a great treasure in the field and as a breeder of good ones; and Valliant, possibly Mr. Rawnsley’s best sire, is by the Brocklesby Wrangler, one of the sorts, as I have mentioned in this paper, out of a Freeman-bred bitch. To trace the branches from the Belvoir Weathergage, there is everything, then, to show that the merit has been almost inexhaustible, and that, if anything, it has increased in intensity by intercrossing: the Grafton Wonder, with the Gambler line, as instanced in the case of the Puckeridge Cardinal, and the Freemans, as shown by the Brocklesby Wrangler and Vanity, in their production of the Southwold Valliant; and again in the case of Worcester breeding his best from Nominal- or Gambler-bred bitches. It is a problem of breeding, and all compassed in thirty years. I can hardly believe it to be so long ago, looking back to 1873, when chatting to Frank Gillard, on the old flags at Belvoir, we admired Warrior, the crack of the kennel, as I then opined, and how Gillard told me that the beautiful blood-like hound before us was rather the result of an experiment. He hardly dared to breed from Wonder, on account of his swine chap, but he was tempted by his beautiful voice, and his union with Susan produced a perfect litter, to comprise Woodman, Warrior, Woeful, Welcome and Whimsey, all good-looking enough to be put on, and useful in producing subsequent Belvoir beauties; but the star of all was Warrior, the sire of Weathergage. Nearly all the best foxhound sires of the day trace to the latter, and it would be no very bad policy to breed from the older ones of their generation as long as they can be found—Belvoir Stormer, Handel, Grafton Why Not, Cricklade Worcester, Brocklesby Wrangler and Badminton Dexter—but still to remember that there is a younger generation, or even two, that is quite as good, and maybe safer, when enumerating the sires of the day, as the Warwickshire Traveller, the Belvoir Vaulter and Royal, the Atherstone Struggler and Streamer, the Grafton Waggoner and President, the Birdsall Dexter, the Puckeridge Cardinal, the Bicester Wrangler, the Fitzwilliam Harper, the Southwold Valliant, the Cricklade Bandit and the Cirencester Weathergage. G. S. Lowe. Hunt “Runners.” | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Date. | No. of trout. | lb. | oz. | |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| May | 19th | 3 | 5 | 2 |
| June | 3rd | 2 | 2 | 1 |
| June | 13th | 2 | 2 | 15 |
| June | 22nd | 6 | 9 | 11 |
| July | 1st | 3 | 4 | 2 |
| July | 3rd | 2 | 2 | 3 |
| July | 14th | 1 | 1 | 14 |
| July | 18th | 1 | 1 | 2 |
| July | 21st | 5 | 5 | 0 |
| July | 29th | 1 | 1 | 14 |
| July | 31st | 8 | 7 | 12 |
| Aug. | 5th | 1 | 1 | 9 |
| Aug. | 8th | 1 | 1 | 5 |
| Aug. | 17th | 2 | 2 | 6 |
| Aug. | 24th | 2 | 5 | 2 |
| Sept. | 1st | 3 | 4 | 0 |
| Sept. | 4th | 2 | 3 | 6 |
| Sept. | 11th | 5 | 6 | 6 |
| Sept. | 16th | 1 | 1 | 14 |
| Sept. | 19th | 5 | 7 | 15 |
| Sept. | 27th | 5 | 7 | 5 |
| Sept. | 29th | 2 | 3 | 4 |
| Sept. | 30th | 3 | 5 | 8 |
| | | | ||
| Total | 65 | 93 | 12 | |
| | | | ||
Wiltshire Hounds.—Saturday, January 14th, a pack of foxhounds met at Horkwood, and soon after throwing in unkennelled a fox in the first stile. After trying the earths at Farmclose, Donhead, &c.—which had been previously stopped—he crossed the Salisbury Road, through Charlton; taking over Charlton fields he went for Melbury, over the heath, and then gallantly faced the hills, leaving Ashmoor close on the right and Ashcombe on the left; came into Cranbourne Chase; left Bussey Lodge far on the left, came to Chettle Down; leaving Chettle on the right, running nearly up to Handly, at which place he was headed; then running up to Critchell he was run into, attempting to cross the river by Horton Farm. This chase lasted an hour and thirty-five minutes, and the distance could not be less than twenty-five miles. It is supposed to have been the severest run ever remembered in this part of the country.
Thornville Royal.
This magnificent seat of princely festivity and general hospitality, for so many years in the possession of Colonel Thornton, was on Monday, January 6th, surrendered to his successor, the present purchaser, Lord Stourton; but not until the Colonel who, determined never to violate the charter, had, according to annual custom, thrown his doors open, filled all his rooms and tables with his friends, during a whole month spent in unremitted cheerfulness and good humour, passing the days in various field sports, the evenings in convivial harmonious hilarity, inspired by the natural urbanity of the Colonel’s manners, and the choicest and oldest wines now in Great Britain. Perhaps a more splendid and brilliant Christmas was never witnessed in this country.
On New Year’s Day, the neighbourhood were indulged with the finest coursing possible in the park; after which a grand dinner, at which were wines—none under thirty years old, and many at the age of sixty. On this occasion the house and the Temple of Victory were illuminated in grateful remembrance of the soldiers of the York Militia.
After amusing the party and the rustics in the neighbourhood with seeing the upper lake let off, where pike from five to twenty pounds, carp from twelve to fifteen pounds, tench from four to six pounds, perch from two to three pounds, were discovered, to the great satisfaction of the curious in lake fish; a few were taken and one-half sent to the present owner, Lord Stourton.
The Colonel then, attended by his friends, proceeded to Falcover’s Hall, carrying with him the warmest wishes of all those who have so long and so often experienced the effects of his liberal disposition.
Thus terminated his residence at Thornville Royal, which for sixteen years has been the scene of every species of elegant mirth, wit and amusement, and where the prince and the peasant have been alike gratified by that benevolence and vivacity so peculiar to the character of Colonel Thornton.
A Farewell to a Hunter.
The New Year at the Theatres.
After establishing “Lights Out” as a success at the Waldorf Theatre, Mr. H. B. Irving proceeded early in the New Year to produce “The Jury of Fate” at the Shaftesbury Theatre, the house, by the way, in which Mr. McLellan’s first great success was first seen in London, “The Belle of New York.”
“The Jury of Fate” is a lurid story told in seven tableaux, and its most obvious disability is that since each tableaux must of necessity be abbreviated, the story can only be told in a spasmodic series of impressions, and the players have but a poor chance of getting a hold of their audience. The theme of the play is undoubtedly a good one, that of the man who at the early end of a misspent career prays of the messenger of Death that he may be allowed to live another life on earth in which he shall atone for his follies and wickedness, and so gain a favourable verdict from “The Jury of Fate.”
This is the first tableau, and the second tableau shows us twenty-five years later RenÉ Delorme at his old game again, a voluptuary with a pretty talent for drinking, who loses no time in snatching from a most admirable young worker his affianced bride, the fair Yvonne.
A year later we find RenÉ with his wife in the garden of an inn near Paris; he has by this time become a successful playwright, an unfaithful husband, and an industrious drunkard, and after an unfriendly conversation with his wife, he proceeds to inaugurate an intrigue with the mistress of a friend of his, who is unfortunately lunching at the same inn.
This lady appears as a kind of Public Prosecutor of Fate, and openly sets to work to ruin and destroy the too impressionable RenÉ, and we are not surprised to find a year later in the dining-room of RenÉ’s house that her unkindly influence has materially assisted the fine champagne in making a mess of the promising playwright.
This fourth tableau is perhaps the strongest of all, and it concludes with RenÉ, deserted by his friends and his wife, the author of a miserable failure just produced, confronted in his solitude by the ghostly figure of the stranger—Death.
Two years later we find RenÉ, at a low cafÉ in Paris, urging a mob of his discontented workmen to deeds of anarchy and pillage, and not even the dignified advice of David Martine, the workman of tableau two, and the respected and successful employer of labour in the subsequent tableaux, can save the degenerate from his degeneracy; for upon that self-same night RenÉ leads a disorderly attack upon the Martine Bridgeworks, and finding, as needs he must, his wife on the premises, most innocently conversing with Martine, a pistol shot makes him the murderer of his wife, according to the dictum, that “All men kill the thing they love.”
By this time “The Jury of Fate” have agreed upon their verdict, and it only remains for RenÉ to lose himself in a wood, accompanied only by a thunderstorm of portentous severity and ominous dread. To him arrives the Stranger with the sword, and, with only an unconvincing plea in mitigation of sentence, RenÉ falls prostrate before a very much misplaced crucifix, having done far more harm in his second effort than was the case in his previous conviction.
The part of RenÉ is in the very capable hands of Mr. H. B. Irving, and he plays it for all it is worth.
Another piece of fine acting is that of Mr. Matheson Lang, in the double part of Pierre and David Martine.
Miss Lillah McCarthy, whose work at the Court Theatre has given us so much pleasure, is excellent as Therese, the courtesan who causes RenÉ so much worry, and the part of the injured and slaughtered wife is well played by Miss Crystal Herne, a recruit from America.
The play is extremely well put on, and admirably acted, whilst the thunder and lightning and other meteorological effects are terrible in their perpetual and impressive reality.
At the Garrick Theatre, Mr. Arthur Bouchier had the courage to stem the prosperous tide of “The Walls of Jericho,” in order to produce “The Merchant of Venice” and the fine performances of himself as Shylock and Miss Violet Vanbrugh as Portia, with the environment of a beautiful production, have filled the Garrick for well over a hundred performances.
In our opinion Shylock is quite one of the best things Mr. Bouchier has done, most convincing in its masterly restraint and complex simplicity. And too much praise cannot be given to Miss Vanbrugh who is at her best in the trial scene, when the charm of her voice is heard to the utmost advantage. That experienced actor, Mr. Norman Forbes, affords a splendid study of Launcelot Gobbo, and is well supported by Mr. O. B. Clarence as Old Gobbo.
A happy memory of the early days of the O.U.D.C. is afforded by the fact that Mr. Alan Mackinnon supervised this production, and this carries our thoughts back to 1886, when Mr. Bouchier first dealt with Shylock at the then new theatre at Oxford.
The Vedrenne-Barker management at the Court Theatre continues to enjoy its well-earned prosperity. The plays are interesting and exceptionally well acted, and at present the name of Mr. Bernard Shaw is one to conjure with.
“Major Barbara” is his latest achievement, and if one confesses to a feeling of disappointment, the probable reason for it is that Mr. Shaw has led us to expect so much from him in the way of quality.
Mr. Shaw confesses in the prelude to one of his books, that by one of those little ironies of life which sometimes beset even such clever people as himself, he has only won the right to be listened to by the public after the vein of originality which was once so rich within him has been hopelessly worked out. Of the truth of this, there is in his new play, “Major Barbara,” very conspicuous evidence. The changes are once more rung upon the old theme which served Mr. Shaw in “Widower’s Houses,” and to a certain extent also in “Mrs. Warren’s Profession.” In “Widower’s Houses,” it is a man whose belief in his own honesty and usefulness is shattered by the sudden discovery that his income comes from a polluted source; in “Major Barbara,” the central figure, a woman, is by very much the same process suddenly thrust, as it were, into a moral cul-de-sac; that is to say, she is offered a sum of five thousand pounds which she would give her very soul to take, in order to save the lives of hundreds of starving folk, and at the same moment discovers that this money has been made by industries which cause the very starvation she is attempting to remedy. It is this situation which Mr. Shaw considers strong enough to justify him in putting into his heroine’s mouth some of the most sacred words which have ever been uttered—and it is at any rate a satisfaction to feel that his critics have for once drawn Mr. Shaw into the honest confession that he did himself consider that he had here created a serious and tragic situation. To be quite frank, there cannot be the faintest question but that the verdict in this little dispute must be against Mr. Shaw and with his critics. Mr. Shaw’s idea of a play seems to be that you can dive from the burlesque tosh of “Cholly” from the pantomime of the Greek Professor beating his drum straight into the sublimest realms of tragedy, much as a man can go straight out of the hot rooms into the plunge at a Turkish bath; but, as Dr. Johnson said of some contemporary writer who was at the moment attracting attention, “Sir, it does not do to be odd; you will not be read for long.”
At the Haymarket Theatre Mr. Charles Hawtrey is as delightfully vague as ever in “The Indecision of Mr. Kingsbury,” a play adapted from the French by Mr. Cosmo Gordon Lennox. Mr. Hawtrey is well supported by the author who plays the part of a full-blooded and voluble Frenchman; by Miss Fanny Brough as a distressed dowager; and Miss Nina Boucicault as a much maligned widow, who wins the hand of the undecided Mr. Kingsbury. The story is just strong enough to carry four acts, and there is plenty of fun in it, so that we may credit Mr. Cosmo Gordon Lennox with yet another success.
At the Imperial Theatre Mr. Lewis Waller has replaced “The Perfect Lover” by “The Harlequin King,” a costume play of mediÆval romance, in which Harlequin, having in a fit of jealousy killed the heir apparent, proceeds immediately to occupy the throne.
It is a very confiding court in this eccentric kingdom, and the only person who discovers the imposture is a blind old lady, the Queen Mother, who at once finds it out, but for the good of the country consents to crown the Harlequin. As a reigning monarch Harlequin cuts a poor enough figure, and to us it is a great relief when in due course the time comes for him, in order to save his skin, to confess his fraud, and fly the country. Mr. Lewis Waller does the best that can be done for the wretched Harlequin, and Miss Millard is good as Columbina, but perhaps the best performance of all is that of Miss Mary Rorke as the blind Queen: as an example of quiet dignity and perfect elocution her performance is most valuable.
We could wish that Mr. Waller would once more produce a really good play; he and his company are well qualified to do full justice to a good play, and it seems a thousand pities that their abilities and enthusiasm should be devoted to nothing better than the “Perfect Lover” and this most recent production which, by the way, is styled “A Masquerade in four acts, by Rudolf Lothar, adapted by Louis N. Parker and Selwyn Brinton.”
The opening of the new Aldwych Theatre fitly enough signalised the return to London of Miss Ellaline Terriss and Mr. Seymour Hicks, after their triumphant tour in the provinces. “Bluebell in Fairyland,” that very successful Christmas piece which, two or three years ago, ran well into the late summer months, was the play selected for the opening, on December 23rd, of Mr. Hicks’ beautiful new playhouse. With the advantage of a large stage and every latest modern appliance, Mr. Hicks has been able to amplify and develop his production to a degree which was impossible at the Vaudeville Theatre. There are some two hundred performers engaged in this musical dream play, which is in two acts, of six and seven scenes respectively.
Miss Ellaline Terriss is Bluebell, as charming as ever, and one can utter no higher praise than that.
Mr. Seymour Hicks again doubles the parts of Dicky, the Shoeblack, and the Sleepy King, and infuses marvellous vitality into all that he does, even into the snores and grotesque clumsinesses of the Sleepy King.
There are many new-comers, prominent among them being Miss Sydney Fairbrother and Miss Maude Darrell, whilst one of the hits of the entertainment is the song of Miss Barbara Deane, in which she reproduces popular comic songs of the day with the method of a ballad-singer. Miss Barbara Deane has a charming voice, and as she has youth on her side, she should have a very distinguished future before her. Miss Dorothy Frostick—now almost “a grown-up”—and Miss Topsy Linden do some pretty dancing.
It was a marvellous tour de force on the part of Mr. Seymour Hicks, after less than a fortnight for rehearsal, and with no dress rehearsal at all, to have presented such a gigantic production, without a hitch, upon the very night which he had promised some months ago.
“Bluebell” is a delightful play, and the Aldwych is a beautiful theatre, and if Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Hicks gain half the success which they deserve, they should have a signal triumph.
At the Royalty Theatre, that delightful artiste, Mme. RÉjane and M. De Ferandy have been giving a series of French plays, prominent among them being “Les Affaires sont les Affaires,” which Mr. Beerbohm Tree has shown us under the title of “Business is Business,” and “DÉcorÉ,” the amusing comedy of M. H. Meilhac.
For Christmas Mr. Beerbohm Tree deserted the popular “Oliver Twist,” and put up a revival of “The Tempest,” followed in January by “Twelfth Night,” which is to be supplanted, shortly before these lines attain the dignity of print, by one of the colossal productions for which His Majesty’s Theatre has become so renowned. Probably by the time these lines are read the version of “Nero,” by Mr. Stephen Phillips, will be the talk of the town.
Racing at Gibraltar, in 1905.
The Gibraltar racing season has now come to an end, and but for a probable Sky meeting the first week or so in January, 1906, no more racing will be held here till March. In this article it is the endeavour of the writer to say a few words of interest regarding the general racing on the “Rock” and concerning the meetings during the present year. On the whole, the racing during the year has been very satisfactory; more meetings have been held and more patronage, both by owners and the general public, afforded to them than has been the case for some time. A certain portion of residents on the Rock always keep racers. The success, however, of “Gib.” racing is, in the main, dependent on the sport afforded to it by the officers, naval and military, of the garrison. This year there has happily been no lack of support, and a considerable number of officers of the Gunners and of the three line regiments stationed here own racers. A few lines may be with advantage devoted in explaining how the racing is carried on in the fortress.
The racer at “Gib.” is rather hard to define. Owing to the paucity of animals running in comparison with the number of races, it is impossible to have open events for the ordinary animals here, and the only method which has been found to answer is to have a system of classes. There are no less than four of these classes at present, and there is a rumour to the effect that a fifth class may shortly be formed. The classes are as follows:—
Class I.—Thoroughbreds. Any animal may, however, run in this class if the owner so wishes.
Classes II., III., IV.—Those animals classified as such by the Classification Committee consisting of six elected members of the various clubs. In Class II. one generally finds half-breds, English galloways, and ponies. Classes III. and IV. are confined to Barbs and Arabs. In Class III. animals which have been reduced from the second class are often running, and also those horses promoted by the above Committee from the fourth class.
The Barb pony constitutes the whole of Class IV., and naturally this class holds by far the greatest number of animals. Polo ponies, hunters, and, in fact, nearly all the general animals seen on the Rock, are classified as fourth class for the purpose of racing. Every animal, before being allowed to run in any race confined to Classes II., III., and IV., must be classified by the Classification Committee. This Committee records the animal’s height, colour, breed, sex, markings, &c., and places it in the class the various members think fit. As a general rule Barbs under 14.2 high are put in this class. Arabs and Barb horses in Class III., and half-breds in the second class. Animals which prove in their running to be too good for the class which they are in are promoted to the next higher one, or if in Classes I., II., and III., reduced if necessary.
To make this system of classification work properly, prizes more valuable in proportion are given to the higher classes. This scheme also induces owners to procure and race a better class animal. Even with this classification, so great is the difference in speed between animals in each special class, it is necessary to make each race a handicap. In fact, except for a few fourth class maiden races and the weight for age first class races, one may say that every race is a handicap.
A fifth class has been asked for by many, especially by officers of the line regiments quartered in the station. The point urged is that unless they have a very good Barb (and they are difficult to procure now) it is useless to run him in an ordinary race, as they cannot, in the first place, gallop with the majority of fourth class ponies which are raced; and secondly, owing to gentlemen riders only being allowed in the lowest class, capable light-weights for their ponies are impossible to be found. However, not being a member of the advisory committee who manage these matters, the writer will not touch any more on the subject of a lower class, beyond mentioning the fact that the introduction of this fifth class would give pleasure to many subalterns, and offer them an excellent chance of riding their own ponies in public.
Stakes vary in accordance with the class. No race above 100 dollars is allowed to be given in the fourth class, between 150 to 200 dollars is the limit for the third, and 200 to 300 dollars for second. In first class races the prize may be anything from 250 dollars upwards. Cups are sometimes given in conjunction with a money prize. A hundred dollars may be taken to average £15 English money, though the exchange varies slightly from time to time. Entrance fees are usually one-fifteenth to one-twentieth of the value of the stakes.
With reference to the above remarks on classes it may be of interest to readers to know where these animals are procured from.
No animals being bred on the Rock itself, all horses are imported privately or by dealers from Africa, Spain, England and France. The thoroughbreds racing in the first class come from English and French stables, and are not by any means the weedy types of broken-down platers that one would expect. Very few are stabled and trained at “Gib.,” but come down for the races from Madrid and Andalusia; certain well-known owners who are interested in the racing here vying with one another to bring down a better type of animal each successive meeting. During this season it may safely be said that a better lot of horses have run in first class races than ever previously, and there is every promise in the future of the good standard being upheld. The other three classes of horses are generally kept on the Rock itself or in the immediate vicinity. A second class horse is, as a rule, a half-bred, and imported from over the water or bred in the province of Andalusia.
The third class contains Barbs over 14.2, and the best class of Barb ponies, with a few Arabs. An owner wishing to procure a third class animal has generally to be content with buying a horse which has run at “Gib.” previously, owing to the fact of the classification Committee nearly always placing a raw horse (one just imported on to the Rock) in either the second or the fourth class. Fourth class horses are imported from Africa by the local dealer. There is only one dealer here at present, and he holds the monopoly of selling raw animals, regulating his supply according to the demand, thereby keeping up a fixed price. It should be mentioned that in “Gib.” it is customary to term all animals, whether 13 or 16 hands high, as horses. These fourth class horses are practically all Barbs of polo height (14.2 and under), generally very handy, but sluggish, and requiring an enormous amount of driving. They are nearly all stallions, very few mares ever being imported. Prices average about £30 for a raw animal from the dealer—Sant, senior, who is to be thoroughly recommended—though regiments buying a batch of seven or eight at a time will get them considerably cheaper. The element of luck is brought largely into the business of buying these animals raw, for the worst-looking Barbs often prove capable of beating those of much better conformation.
A third class animal is, as has been stated before, rather hard to procure raw. An Arab may be placed in this class, but the uncertainty of the classification of this class makes owners extremely shy of importing or having imported for them horses too good for fourth class but not up to second class form. A third class horse which has shown good form can be procured for £40 or £50, but prices vary according to the proximity of the meetings. A second class half-bred coming from Oran or Algiers may be bought for about £70. Thoroughbreds anything from £20 upwards. All betting is done through the means of the pari-mutuel, the unit of investment being one dollar (about three shillings) and five dollars. The various clubs deduct 5 per cent. on the turnover. Lotteries are held the night previous to racing, 250 dollars being the average pool to the winner, though of course pools vary considerably according to the number of speculators present.
Weights vary in handicaps from 12 st. 7 lb. downwards. Frequently, however, 13 st. is top weight, lowest weight being seldom less than 8 st. Weight for age races when held have a scale of weights as follows:—
| 2 years | 8 st. 7 lb. |
| 3 years | 9 st. 7 lb. |
| 4 years | 10 st. 7 lb. |
| 5 years | 11 st. 2 lb. |
| 6 years and aged | 11 st. 9 lb. |
A new innovation has come into force this year, to the effect that gentlemen riders only are allowed to ride in fourth class races. In all other races professionals may ride, gentlemen riders (who must be members of the Army or Navy or be given permission to ride by the Jockey Club) receiving a 5 lb. allowance when competing against them. The new rule above mentioned of confining fourth class races to gentlemen riders only and excluding professionals has, in a way, done good and been a success in bringing forward new riding blood and inducing more amateur jockeys to figure in the pigskin, but on the other hand, owners of horses handicapped at a low weight find it impossible to procure fit and capable gentlemen riders. In many cases this rule has curtailed entries and caused some dissatisfaction. Really capable professionals on the Rock are very few in number, and four of them stand out far and above their confrÈres—Frank Sant, Goodman, Aldorino and J. Zammit being their names. These four jockeys are all good and naturally in great request, especially the first named, who, having every attribute of a first-class jockey, could without doubt hold his own in most parts of the world. Five dollars (sixteen shillings) is the fixed fee to a losing jockey and 10 per cent. of the stakes to the winning one, though, as is always the case, large presents are often given.
Of gentlemen riders there are a number, though only a few are really useful. Some new riders have been performing lately, and there are several the writer could mention who with a little more practice will soon be able to hold their own with the second rank of professionals without the 5 lb. allowance. Mr. C. Larios, brother of the M.F.H., and first whip, Captain Taylor, R.G.A. (a veteran heavy-weight, but still a very cool rider), and Captain Salt, late of the Lancashire Fusiliers, are perhaps the pick of those riding at present.
A word about the various clubs. In “Gib.,” perhaps unfortunately, there are no less than three racing clubs, the Gibraltar Jockey Club, the Calpe Turf Club, and the Civilian Racing Club. The Gibraltar Jockey Club is the senior club in the Gibraltar racing world. It is composed mostly of military and naval officers with a few civilian representatives. This club practically governs the racing at “Gib.,” owning the course and being under the authority of the English Jockey Club. The Calpe Turf Club, founded and directed by the Messrs. Larios, and the Civilian Racing Club, managed by a civilian syndicate.
These two latter clubs are composed mainly of civilians with a few military and naval members. Both these two clubs conform to the rules of the Jockey Club. A movement is being set on foot by certain influential personages, interested in the welfare of the racing here, to combine the three clubs into one. This movement, as may be understood, would be in many ways beneficial. Owners, and others, however, rather welcome racing with different clubs, as there is considerable competition between them in the way the meetings are conducted, each trying to outdo the other in general arrangements.
Until recently all starting has been carried out by means of a flag, but last May the gate was first tried in five-furlong races. At the last meeting it was used at both the five- and six-furlong starting posts, and next year will probably be always adopted. Other improvements have taken place during the year, and it is proposed to enlarge the stands and premises, which will be greatly to the advantage of every one. Concerning the course, the writer will give a brief description for the benefit of those unacquainted with “Gib.” It is situated on the sandy isthmus that connects the Rock with the mainland of Spain. The course is a mile in circumference, and oval-shaped, while the going, though nominally of grass, is for the most part of a sandy nature. The last two furlongs constitute the straight, which is enclosed on either side by the orthodox white rails. The remainder of the course is marked out by means of large whitewashed stones dotted round at three yards’ interval. On the extreme outside is situated the tan galloping track. A small charge is made to all persons using the same by the Jockey Club.
At the Autumn meeting of the Jockey Club an objection was raised to a horse for having gone inside three of the stones marking the course, and to prevent a repetition of the occurrence the authorities decided that at all future meetings movable posts, strung together with white tape, should be used. It is, unfortunately, impossible to rail the course right round, owing to a rifle range being situated in the centre, and rails anywhere else, except in the straight, would interfere with the view of the targets. Tapes being very dangerous both to horses and riders, a scheme for the construction of permanent sockets holding movable posts is being considered.
Altogether during this year there have been sixteen days’ racing in “Gib.,” not including nine days at the neighbouring Spanish Club at Campamento (four miles off), with seven or eight races per day, with an occasional steeplechase for officers’ ponies. The Spanish Club, which is really another edition of the Gibraltar Civilian Racing Club, holds its meetings, as a rule, on Sundays, and is run on pretty well the same lines as those in force on the Rock, except that the Club recognises a fifth class with low stakes. The course is a very good one, though new, the going being nearly always better than here. The Club does very well in its own way, and those not averse to Sunday racing speak very well of it. The King of Spain encourages the Club, presenting money and cups to help the prizes. The sixteen days of racing above-mentioned were taken up by the various clubs as follows: The Jockey and Calpe Turf clubs seven days each, and the Civilian Racing Club two days. All the meetings were a success, but perhaps the honours of the best meeting held during the season lie with the Civilian Racing Club. This was the Royal Sky Meeting, specially organised on the occasion of the visit of Her Majesty the Queen to “Gib.” Saturday, May 6th, was the day in question, and on the Thursday previous no racing for the following Saturday was contemplated. Her Majesty, however, had expressed a wish to see some racing, and with very commendable promptitude the Civilian Racing Club obtained permission and organised the meeting. In spite of such short notice the entries were exceptionally large, and wisely confined to third and fourth class horses, so as to allow of the officers of the garrison being able to participate in the meeting more largely than usual.
Her Majesty very kindly gave and presented a cup in one of the races, which was won by Major Labalmondiere’s (R.G.A.) black Barb horse Dominico, carrying top weight, and ridden by Captain Taylor. Needless to say, both owner and rider came in for many congratulations in winning the much coveted cup.
In every way the meeting was a very great success, and it is only to be hoped that on some near future occasion Her Majesty will again be a spectator at a “Gib.” meeting.
The best race of the year as regards the class of animal was undoubtedly the first class weight for age race at the Calpe Turf Club Autumn Meeting. A field of ten better class horses has never been seen on the “Gib.” course previously. A good finish resulted in a win for that great supporter of the higher class racing at Gibraltar, Mr. Garvey, through the medium of his chestnut three-year-old English-bred filly Bizantina, closely followed home by Captain W. P. Salt’s Chartres, ridden by owner.
On the whole the various clubs have had an excellent season, and a great improvement on previous ones. The standard of horses racing in the various classes has improved, and the riding, especially of the amateurs, has been much better than formerly.
With the Gunners and the three line regiments, the Yorkshire Light Infantry, the Munster Fusiliers and the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry, keen on the “Great Game,” together with a large number of civilian Turfites, the prospects for the racing season of 1906 are very promising. Gibraltar and Campamento racing clubs can hardly expect to show such racing as is seen at home, but the writer doubts whether any stranger visiting our racecourses will have any cause to complain of the sport and amusement shown to him.
Half a Century’s Hunting Recollections.
V.
Once in my life I have heard a fox cry out when seized by a hound; it was a cub, at Cream Gorse, and Tom Firr jumped down and saved it. The noise was a sort of twang! As I said at the time, it reminded me of the snapping of a harp string. I have more than once seen a fox turn to bay and defy a hound, and in such cases have been very sorry for him if, later on, the end came.
By the way, in my last I was made to say that the M.F.H. often wore a “cap.” I wrote a “hat”; not the same thing quite.
Of fatal accidents—fatal on the spot, I mean—I am happy to say that I have had but little experience. Both victims, however, were friends of mine. The first was Lord Somerville. We were out with Mr. Tailby, and were running from Manton Gorse; the ground was greasy to a degree; poor Somerville, Captain Smith, and I, all rode, I may say, together, at a low post and rails, but wide of each other. I never knew that any one had fallen, but Somerville’s horse, a favourite mare called Honesty, slipped, chested the rail, and landed completely on to him. Death must have been instantaneous. The other unfortunate was my dearest of dear old friends, Captain David Barclay. The accident happened just in front of my second horseman, and at a gap into the Sandy Lane, near Gartree Hill. In this case my poor friend’s mare, a star-gazing little beast, slid into the ditch, a deep one. The rider’s foot was caught on the top of a stake, and he was canted out of the saddle, alighting on his head. From all accounts he was dead when picked up.
To talk of a less sad subject, I may say that my old joke about the Peterborough Show having caused so much bad scenting weather has become quite a stock phrase. We have heard of going back to the bloodhound and the Welsh hound to regain the “tender nose.” Pace “Borderer,” the faults of the Welshmen are riot, babbling, and a disinclination to draw strong gorse, at least this is my limited experience. Whipcord might improve the riot, but I should fear that this class of hound would sulk under punishment. A friend of mine is trying the cross in his kennel; I hope he will succeed with it. As to bloodhounds, I have mentioned the North Warwickshire of 1861–2. They were originally bloodhound and Belvoir, and were first started in the Wheatland country. They were all that could be desired when I saw them.
There was a half-bred bloodhound, called Bonny Lass, in the Ludlow pack, in the days of my youth. I remember she was none of the stoutest with an afternoon fox; but Mr. Sitwell bred from her, and put forward at least one of her daughters, Brilliant (I think, by Harold). But the pure bloodhound is a single-handed dog. I worked one in a scratch pack, but she never would go to cry, nor believe a word that her comrades said. I had a day once with the bloodhound pack started by Lord Wolverton, but then owned by Lord Carrington. We met, by invitation, at the White Hart, Winkfield, and took the deer near Reading, at “something” field. The King, who was out, timed the run at “the best part of three hours,” but the hounds had very little to do with it. I only saw them run, as a pack, over one grass park at Binfield. Lords Carrington and Charles Beresford “rode the deer,” or we should not have known which way she had gone. She was taken in a pond of extra black mud. Beresford went in to take her, thereby giving an opening for some graceful badinage about blue water, and other hues. Except on the one occasion, hounds never seemed to settle even for one field, and there were lots left behind. The Berkshire yokels, who were only too fond of catching up an amiable Ascot staghound, with a view to bucksheesh, on delivery, tried the same game with some of the “Talbots,” but with direful results. They were savage, sulky brutes, and murderously quarrelsome in kennel. My bitch was good tempered enough, and, though noisy on any living scent, quite mute on a drag, which—boys will be boys—I occasionally ran.
Twice I have seen the haute École with hounds, the Quorn each time. The first time the owner of a circus, then performing at Leicester, came out on a trick horse. While we were drawing he cantered across the field and dropped his handkerchief, then, dismounting, sent his horse to fetch it, which the animal did, retriever fashion. Having thus advertised himself, he, when we got away, “took on” all the highest timber which he could find, but was caught by a blind ditch, “to him.” My friend, Dakin, of the Carbineers, offered the man £150 for his horse, which was refused, the price demanded being £300. As I said at the time, I did not know which of the two parties to this transaction was most wanting in wisdom. The horse was a weedy thoroughbred; and, unless one wanted handkerchiefs retrieved, worth in a fair some £30 to £20. The other time matters were more serious. The venue was Scraptoft, as before. But the impresario brought out some half-dozen of his lady riders. Their habits represented all the colours of the rainbow, and their behaviour was most alarming. Their intention seemed to be to wipe out all Melton and Harboro’. Poor Fred Archer’s half a length which he allowed to Mr. Coupland at a fence, was considered short measure, but half a head was more the form of these homicidal houris. At length they received, and took, a hint to the effect that they should not over-fatigue themselves in view of their evening performance.
I have said but little of the Belvoir, as Frank Gillard’s book deals with the days in which I knew them best. But, if I mistake not, he confuses the late Mr. Little Gilmour, an opulent Scotsman, who was a great friend of the late Duke of Rutland, and who, by the way, was a competitor in the Eglinton Tournament, with Mr. (or rather Captain), Parker Gillmore, the explorer, big game shooter, and author (“Ubique”). Mr. Little Gilmour, Lord Gardner, and Lord Wilton were the only ones I knew of the heroes depicted in “The Melton Breakfast,” of which meal the late Sir Frederick Johnstone seems to have had a monopoly. The scene of this banquet is a disputed point. Some say that it is the dining-room at “The Old Club” (which never was a “club” in the ordinary sense of the word), others that it is the coffee-room at the “George.” My “key” describes the servant as the waiter at the “George Inn.” Concerning the many remarkable men, remarkable for other things besides the chase, though of course they were foxhunters, I may, perhaps, be allowed to continue my “havers” in the coming by and by. Yet, two or three men I must crave permission to mention. One was the late Mr. Ambrose Isted, who was mentioned by “Nimrod” in his “Hunting Tours.” Being born deaf, he was also dumb, or nearly so. He was, however, a wonderfully good draughtsman; and, when I stayed in a country house with him, between pantomime and pencils, we got on as regular compadres. The engraving of Mr. Osbaldeston and Sir Harry Goodricke in “Silk and Scarlet” is from a sketch by him. I must really tell one tale about him. His property was in the Pytchley country, and I made his acquaintance there in the spring of 1862, when my “base” was Rugby. A brother officer of mine, poor Walter Bagenal, long since dead, was riding at a fence, when Mr. Isted, somewhere close by, made a sound of some kind and held up two fingers. I should never have even guessed his meaning, and should probably have got a “crowner,” but the Irish intuition of poor dear Bagenal rose to the occasion. Perceiving that the warning indicated a “double,” he roused little “Aladdin” and triumphantly cleared both ditches. In another style Mr. Henley Greaves was a wonderful man. What his weight was no one ever knew, but on foot he was a marvel of activity. I once came down with him to the Smite. The squire hailed two yokels, jumped the brook clean on foot, and then received his horse. I tried to imitate him, but “dropped my hind-legs.” Once I, out of curiosity, tried to follow him up a bridle road. He absolutely lost me. The pace he went between the gates, the way they seemed to open spontaneously for him, and the manner in which he slipped away on the further side, are beyond my powers of description.
Another remarkable man in a different way, and in his way a hero, was Mr. Baldwin, “the lion-hunter.” He had made so good a business of a big game shooting campaign in South Africa, that, what between the sale of his spoils, ivory, &c., and of his book—a most clever and amusing work, with no chronicle of the long-bow in it—he managed to have two or three seasons’ hunting in Leicestershire. I may say that I should imagine him to be the only man who has ever taken up a lion for a ride behind him! He confessed that the lion had every reason for annoyance, as he had been insulted by having dogs set on him. Anyhow, he did what I am told that lions seldom do. He not only charged his foe, but followed him up, and, overhauling him, jumped on to the horse’s hindquarters. Naturally the steed disapproved of this arrangement, and then it became a mere question as to whether the man or the lion should be kicked off first. Luckily it was the lion. Had Mr. Leo put his claws into the man’s back, it would have been a case of stand or fall together! Poor Baldwin lost an eye in a most unlucky manner. He never cared what he rode, though he rode them all in the right place; but his stud could not have been described as animals “suitable to carry a lady.” He was trying to open a gate, which was bushed up along the top bar, as in those days many were. In some inexplicable manner he got a thorn into one eye, and, having made up his mind to lose it, gave away a chance, by not only not consulting a specialist, but by coming out hunting again, if not the next day, at a suicidally early date. I last heard of him as hunting in Cheshire, and trust that he is still pursuing the chase.
I can just remember a certain sportsman, who shall be nameless, but who headed so many foxes, that Sir Richard Sutton, when Master of the Quorn, offered to settle an annuity on him, on condition of his leaving the country. Mr. Surtees often stayed at Quorn, and this offer is revived in “Mr. Sponge’s Sporting Tour,” as having been made to him by Lord Scamperdale. The history of the Quorn country is none too complete. Even in your Hunting Directory, Mr. Editor, there is no mention of the Donnington Hunt as carried on by the Marquis of Hastings, the last but one. They had very good sport, but I seem to have heard that many of their best things were with bagmen. These were trained, so the story goes, and even physicked. “I know not how the truth may be, I tell the tale as ’twas told to me.” The Marquis, like his son, was never a rider to hounds, but “Nimrod” tells of him that when buying horses from John Potter, of Ashby-de-la-Zouche, he took a delight in larking over all the artificial fences which the trial ground contained. He was passionately fond of hounds, and, judging from a sketch which he made of what he considered a perfect foxhound’s head, a pretty good judge of them. At his death the Hunt was carried on by Mr. J. Storey, of Lockington (the “old Jack Storey” of my youthful days), and, I fancy, Sir Seymour Blane; but to this I cannot swear. Sir Richard Sutton retrieved this country when he began to find the miles rather long between Harborough and Quorn, and put “Young Dick,” grandfather of the present Baronet, to represent him at Billesdon; or was it Oadby? No! I cannot help thinking that Dick Sutton’s kennels were at Skeffington. On this point I must confess myself open to correction.
The men of old time were not so particular about country as the heroes of to-day. Loughborough was the headquarters of the Quorn Hunt under Mr. Meynell, by no means in the cream of the country. The late Admiral Meynell once asked me (in the early sixties) whether Button (properly “Buddon”) Wood, close to Quorn, was still a crack covert. At that time I should think that very few Meltonians could have located the place at all, and it certainly is nasty to get away from. Still, even in those days it was not all beer and skittles. In the diary of Jones, Mr. Meynell’s cork-legged whip, appears this entry: “Found in Mr. Kent’s Thorns” (now generally called Cant’s Thorns). “The gentlemen over-rode the hounds at starting, and we lost him.” I have seen something very much like that happen at that place myself. Certainly a Leicestershire huntsman has not a bed of roses. As poor Tom Firr once said to me, at a check, “Most huntsmen have to think where their fox is gone, but I’ve also to guess where my field is coming to!” And of many men, riders or not, it may be said that, the longer they hunt the less they know about the chase!
No doubt in old days, when foxes were really wild and stout, grand sport was had in rough countries. Any one who has read “Nimrod’s” “Hunting Tours” must allow that. But the men of old times worked harder than the Agamemnons of to-day. “Nimrod,” in his northern tour, mentions the fact of the late Sir David Baird having ridden fifty miles to covert, and the same distance home, after hunting. And I have lived to see certain of the silver-gilt go by train from Melton to a meet at Brooksby, six miles. I should have thought that the bother of catching a train would be far greater than getting on to one’s hack, and cantering to the meet, especially as there are good grass sidings all the way. However, “Chacun À son gout,” and this is supposed to be a free country.
I have tried to remember all the packs with which I have ever hunted, not including harriers, whose name would be legion. But I have quite forgotten one, the Surrey Union to wit. I was at a “Crammer’s,” near Leatherhead, and as Paidogogos liked a holiday as well as I did, I got out as often as a certain very tidy little hireling could come. Colonel Sumner was Master, and his kennels were, I think, at Fetcham. He had a hound called Falstaff, of which I believe he thought highly, but I do not remember much about the pack. I do remember, though, a meet at Epsom Windmill, and also seeing a fox found on Box Hill. I see an advertisement in a Highland paper for “freshly caught foxes.” They are to be delivered in the Old Surrey country; I presume that the advertiser has shot his coverts. As he is the son of an old schoolfellow of mine, I will mention neither name nor place.
I can safely say that, out of Leicestershire, the most charming line of country over which I ever rode was with the Meynell. The late Mr. Clowes and Lord Waterpark were then joint masters. I cannot say exactly where we ran, but it was an eight-mile point, all over grass. I only saw one bit of arable, it was certainly not four acres. But I remember it because the fox crossed it (we had no need to do so), and I noticed that the hounds “said more about it” up that furrow than they had been doing over the grass. This was on the Radbourne side, and I believe the cream of the country, as well it may be. The fences, though wanting a hunter, were “nout to boggle a mon,” to quote Mr. James Pigg, and though we had a bit of a brook, it was also of an inviting nature. Lord Harrington went gallantly on a three- or possibly a two-year-old thoroughbred one. He saw the run, at the expense of two or three rolls! I much admired the hounds, having seen the dogs on one day, and the ladies on the Radbourne side. I thought the bitches had more muscle on them than the dogs, but that may have been fancy. One has to see hounds on the flags before one can pass a judgment of this kind. We did not catch our fox, which was a pity, as the hunt, with a kill, would have been perfect.
As droll an arrangement as I ever saw was that by which, with the late Sir Humphrey de Trafford’s Harriers, every one was mounted excepting the huntsman. In a wired country one could understand this, but in those happy days wire had not made its detestable appearance. However, this man legged it to such good purpose, that perhaps a horse would have been thrown away upon him! A certain M.F.H. once gave as his reason for not allowing his huntsman a second horse, that this official took quite enough out of one!
Mr. G. S. Lowe, in the January number, seems under the impression that Osbaldeston’s “Furrier” was a mean-looking black and white hound. I possess a portrait of him, in oils, and must repeat what I wrote about him elsewhere: “Light of bone, and not straight, but no better topped dog is now in the Belvoir pack, and he is the right colour too” (black, white and tan). I do not like the custom of not rounding the ears of foxhounds, if only that the ears are a distinction between a full-grown puppy at walk, and a stray hound, which may be a matter of moment to a whip going back to look for the latter. And I do not think that hounds, in good kennels, have improved at all in the last fifty years. They certainly cannot go faster than Bluecap and Wanton did when, in 1762, they ran four miles in, as nearly as possible, eight minutes. I have always thought that the Quorn couple got “cut off” on that occasion.
Besides we all know that hounds, running a drag, will often leave it if they are pressed upon by horses. Certainly they go fast enough for most of us now. I once, some thirty years ago, saw two Belvoir puppies, outside Old Hills, fairly course down and catch a hare in view. Hares are not at their strongest in October; but I said nothing, and let them enjoy their prey, as I admired their performance, illegitimate though it was!
I fear that we have, as I hinted before, seen the best of foxhunting. New difficulties seem to crop up daily, but the worst of them are the pheasant and the wire fence. Too many foxes are practically bagmen, having been turned down a day or two before the coverts are drawn, and if a hunt is to rent even half the shootings in its limits, hunting will indeed be the sport of the rich, and most likely the nouveau riche at that. Let us hope for the best, but ere now Hope “has told a flattering tale!” I have omitted to mention Mr. George(?) Grey, of Dilston(?), who not only when some 70 years old cut down many of the young Meltonians, but when totally blind, rode over Northumberland, after a pilot, who described the fences as he came to them. Space prevents my saying much about the Cottesmore. At an interval of over forty years, they ran from Launde Wood to Kirby Park, killing each fox, one under the park wall, the other a bit farther on, by the River Wreake. But as space is wanting, good-bye, Brave Boys.
The recent invasion of England by the all-conquering New Zealanders—who established the wonderful record of thirty-one victories out of thirty-two matches played—has arrested the attention of a great many people who hitherto have taken little or no interest in Rugby football. The game as played by these men from over the sea was Rugby football in its most attractive form, and those who were privileged to see their victories over Middlesex or Blackheath, could not fail to be delighted with their skill, nor could they possibly deny the fascinating charm of the game when properly played. But with their departure interest in Rugby is likely to flag, and we are faced with the question, “Why is Rugby football not more popular; how is it that a very large section of the community take no interest in football at all, whilst another large section prefer the charms of Association?”
From the point of view of the player, it is easy to see that the game is not quite suited to every one. Though Rugby is often wrongly considered a rougher game than Association football, it certainly lays a premium on strength and size, whilst there are few things—except perhaps rowing—which make a greater claim on a man’s stamina and endurance. It is, therefore, a game which requires certain natural qualifications and a certain amount of training; hence a large number are excluded from active participation. In Wellington, one single town in New Zealand, over twelve thousand men play Rugby football every Saturday afternoon during the season; it is the national game “down under,” and spectators flock in their thousands to see the matches, but in England a man has so many interests, the open-air life is not so general and the weather conditions not so good.
Perhaps the greatest disadvantage under which Rugby football labours is the fact that it is a winter pastime, and therefore often played in miserable weather. A greasy ball and slippery turf are sufficiently trying to the players; from a spectator’s point of view the game is entirely spoilt, whilst the accommodation provided for the onlookers is frequently most inadequate. At the best of times a covered stand is a cold and draughty place, but it is better than the open field; yet with Rugby clubs the covered stand is often conspicuous by its absence. Moreover, the approaches to so many football grounds are so bad that many people are deterred from patronising the matches; crowded trains followed by a long drive or walk is very damping to the enthusiasm.
Then again, a football match can never be a social function like a cricket match; it therefore loses a great deal of feminine patronage. Except for the small minority, who really understand the game, football is regarded by ladies as a brutal trial of strength, and they fail to see the attraction of grovelling in the mud; but if there was a little tea-party at half-time it would put quite a different complexion on the game. It must also be borne in mind that three of our greatest public schools play a game peculiar to themselves, whilst Charterhouse, Repton, Malvern, Westminster, Radley, Bradfield, Shrewsbury and other big schools play only Association. This means that a very large section of the English youth take absolutely no interest in Rugby at all, though they may—if they go to the Varsity—occasionally watch a Rugby match in the same way that the cricketer patronises the river during Eight’s week.
But the unpopularity of Rugby football as a spectacle is largely due to the apparent complexity of the rules, which makes it very difficult for the uninitiated to follow the game. It is largely due to this that Association has a greater hold on the affections of the people, whilst the game is not stopped by the continual blowing of the referee’s whistle. An elderly gentleman who, needless to say, does not often attend a football match, was heard, the other day, at the Crystal Palace, to exclaim, “There’s that referee interfering again; how exasperating!” This was probably the feeling of a great many who were watching Rugby football for the first time, and they must have carried away the opinion that the whole game consisted in a succession of scrummages and a vast expenditure of useless energy. It is, however, difficult to see what could take the place of the scrummage, which is formed whenever the ball is thrown forward or knocked on, or when the ball is not thrown in straight out of touch, or for any other unintentional breach of the rules. It must be remembered that the scrummage was the essential feature of the game some twenty years ago, when the formation was ten forwards, two half-backs, two quarters and a full-back. In those days little passing was seen, and the ball was seldom heeled out of the scrummage. It is interesting to note how the game has been changed. Fifteen years ago, nine forwards, two half-backs, three three-quarters and a full-back was the rule, till the Welshmen—who are generally the pioneers of any progressive movement in Rugby football—evolved the system of eight forwards and four three-quarters. This year we see the scrummage still further diminished, the New Zealanders playing only seven forwards with a winger—who was nothing else than a half-back—one half-back, two five-eights, three three-quarters and a full-back, whilst the Welsh team has adopted practically the same disposition, playing only seven forwards, three half-backs, four three-quarters and a full-back.
Thus in the course of about twenty years the proportion of forwards to outsides has been reduced from ten forwards and five outsides to seven forwards and eight outsides. It is, therefore, not difficult to see which way the wind is blowing, and there is food for speculation as to what will eventually become of the scrum. The abolition of the “dead-ball” rule and the necessity of playing the ball immediately you are tackled has done much to make the game faster, but it is a matter of doubt whether the game will be improved, from the players’ point of view—which is, after all, the primary consideration—by the reduction of the forwards to a mere heeling machine. Undoubtedly Rugby football, as it has been played in the past, is frequently most uninteresting to watch; the delight of getting the ball in the scrummage and of heeling it out cleanly, or a well-executed wheel when the forwards break away with the ball at their feet has little fascination for the spectators, whilst the satisfaction of grappling an opponent or stopping a rush by falling on the ball must appear very crude and barbarous compared to the admirable finesse of Association football. The tendency at present is to bring more skill into the game; the heavy, lumbering forward has given way to a quicker and more active type, whilst every effort is made to execute that brilliant hand-to-hand passing which is so attractive and generally so effective. Yet there is a danger that the increased number of outsides may lead to overcrowding and to “too many cooks spoiling the broth,” and we frequently see a centre three-quarter boring his wing into touch, or the ball being passed along in a stereotyped fashion, when an individual dash for the line would spell ruin to the opposition. The brilliant individual run through a crowd of opponents excites the admiration of the spectators just as much as a perfect round of passing, and, provided it is not attempted too often, is very deadly in its effectiveness.
In conclusion, it may be said that the unpopularity of Rugby football as a spectacle chiefly results from the difficulty of getting to the matches, the lack of accommodation for the spectators, the apparent complexity of the rules, the somewhat peculiar manner of scoring, by which a try counts three points, a goal from a try five points (in which case the try does not count), a dropped goal four points, and a penalty goal three points, and, lastly, the “exasperating interference” of the referee, with the continual scrummages which result therefrom. A suggestion, which has the support of several great players, is that the numbers should be reduced to thirteen a side instead of fifteen, with the formation of six forwards, two half-backs, four three-quarters and a full-back, or even twelve a side with only three three-quarters. At present the game is killed by the number of the players, whilst the packing of seven or eight forwards in the scrum is very difficult. With six forwards the packing is simple, even for a scratch team, whilst the fewer players and greater space would lead to more open play and brilliant running. We might then see one team winning by thirty points to twenty-seven, and no one could deny that this would be highly interesting and exciting from the spectators’ point of view. Finally, more attention should be paid to handling the ball. The majority of present-day forwards seldom handle a football during the week except in matches, and not always then; hence it is not surprising that many passes go astray, but it should be considered just as heinous a crime to pass forward, or to fail to take a pass, as to miss a catch at cricket, or to knock the tail-feathers out of a pheasant. It should be regarded as equally heinous to pass when you have a good chance of going through yourself, or to hold on to the ball when you ought to pass.
But Rugby football makes it its boast—a boast of which it is justly proud—that the player is the first consideration. The Rugby Union has always set its face against the evils of professionalism and the commendable and unflinching attitude which it has taken up has been reflected in the players, who somewhat foolishly have taken up an attitude of “noli me tangere” towards the spectators, and have resented anything in the form of interference. Anything like playing to the gallery has been righteously condemned, and the player who takes more than ordinary care of himself is often scoffed at. But what is worth doing is worth doing well, and players are now waking up to the fact that Rugby football can no longer be played properly in the happy-go-lucky way, but requires great physical fitness and very skilful use of both hands and feet. Moreover, it is patent to everybody that for a game to last, however good it may be, it must be popular. One often hears the remark, “We don’t want the spectators, and they have no right to dictate to us; if we choose to keep the ball in the scrummage, why shouldn’t we do so,” but if we do not want the spectators, we should like their sons to be brought up to play one of the finest games in the world. The enthusiasm in Wales for Rugby football is unbounded, as a recent incident at Cardiff serves to show. When the Barbarians were playing Cardiff before some ten thousand spectators (the day before there had been something like forty thousand spectators, when the home club were playing the New Zealanders), there was an interval of about five minutes at half-time, which was turned to account by some tiny little boys, none of whom could have been more than ten years old. They seized the football, and were instantly in the throes of an exciting game, which culminated in one little fellow dodging through several opponents and dropping a goal, amidst the applause of the crowd. If, however, you fail to interest the parent, you may fail to interest the offspring. There is no reason why the game should not be made more interesting to both the players and the spectators. It is unfortunate that so many people only go to watch the big games, International and Trial matches, which are seldom productive of good or interesting football, being for the most part struggles between scratch teams.
Wales, alone of the four countries, places anything like a combination of players in the field, and hence the apparent superiority of the Welshmen. Rugby football should not be judged by the form shown in International matches. The New Zealanders showed us what Rugby football could be like, even with a wet ball and a sodden ground, when played by a strong combination of brilliant individuals filled with a burning enthusiasm. The whole question resolves itself into this: Make the game interesting, and it will be popular; if it is popular, that enthusiasm will be aroused, without which nothing can succeed.
The Thoroughbred.
DO WE MAKE THE BEST OF HIM.
The racing season of 1905 is a thing of the past, and I think that even the most optimistic will scarcely look upon it with feelings of unqualified satisfaction. There has been a feeling of dulness at many of the meetings which on occasion almost became depression. Many races which looked so well upon paper have fizzled out and been won by horses which, if not moderate, were at any rate not in the first class; and there has undoubtedly been a lot of very moderate horses indeed running, and, what is worse, winning races.
In these days it seems dangerous to write or talk about the thoroughbred horse. There are some to whom the very name is anathema, associated in their minds only with short distance racing and the routine of Turf life. To them a thoroughbred horse is full of every equine imperfection—light in bone, faulty in conformation, weak in constitution. Others, again, see in the thoroughbred nothing but good. We have, say they, as good horses as ever we had, and better, and they are as extravagant in their optimism as their opponents are in their pessimism.
It is not my intention to take sides with either of these parties. They are quite able to fight their own battles, with more or less acrimony, without any interference of mine. I purpose, however, to mention a few things which have come under my own notice, and to make a few suggestions about the horse, which at his best is undoubtedly the best type of the equine race the world has seen, the English thoroughbred.
It has been customary of late to speak of the sixties, seventies, and eighties as the palmy days of the English thoroughbred, and it will, I think, be generally admitted that we had a smaller proportion of moderate horses and more really good horses in the three decades mentioned than we have had since. That we have had quite as good horses as the best of them in the last fifteen years I readily admit, and the names of Common, Galtee More, Flying Fox, Ard Patrick, Persimmon, Sceptre, and Pretty Polly come trippingly off the tongue. But it is too true that we have a lot of very inferior horses running, and it is no argument to say that a race takes more winning than it used to do, as is sometimes said when an attempt is made to bolster up the reputations of the moderate ones. Before the argument will hold water it is necessary to ask what sort of a race it is.
That a certain amount of deterioration has been seen during the last few years is, I believe, generally admitted. But there have been lean years before now, and the deterioration has only been temporary. For instance, that was not a very grand Derby field in which Palmbearer ran second. It is our concern to see that the falling off to which I allude is only temporary; there is the material to work upon, of that I am quite certain.
It is frequently stated that it is early two-year-old racing and short distance races which have brought our thoroughbreds to the present position. This I take leave to doubt. Early two-year-old racing did not affect the horses of the sixties and seventies, and they got plenty of it. Neither did short distance racing hurt them, for there were half-mile handicaps in those days; and we have to look farther than this for the cause of the decadence. Let us, for the sake of argument, say that they are more delicate, and that stayers are not so frequently to be found amongst them. Let us say this for the sake of argument only, for it is the opinion of the writer, based on experience, that many a horse that is looked upon as a non-stayer would stay well enough if given the chance. At any rate, if the proposition is not true, there is a fear of it becoming so. It is not to the short distance racing that we should look for a cause, but rather to the absurd fashion for persistent inbreeding in one line, viz., to the Darley Arabian, to the neglect of the Byerley Turk strain (of which Herod stood out as one of the best sires of all time). Inbreeding, when carried to the extent that it has been carried with us, is sure to have its effect upon the average members of any breed. Occasionally, it is true, there will be exceptionally good individuals, but they will be few and far between. But the case is by no means hopeless; there is no need to try to evolve any other breed by means of elaborate crossing. All we have got to do is to use a few vigorous out-crosses. These might not answer for racing purposes in the first cross, but then, again, they might; but they would be sure to come out in the second cross. The Shorthorns are an analogous case. The breed had sunk low indeed through indiscriminate inbreeding, but a few generations have raised it to greater heights than ever as a general utility breed.
The temper and soundness of our thoroughbred horses are sources of considerable anxiety to those who look upon them as something more than mere instruments of gambling or adjuncts to a sport, and here there is cause for concern. Never, probably, were there so many rogues running as there are now, and in the experience of the writer never were there so many horses with forelegs which, to say the least of it, are continually on the verge of unsoundness.
Nor is it difficult to see why this is. The racehorse is not used in accordance with Nature. In his early days his growth is forced by stimulating food, in order that he may come into the sale ring “a well-grown yearling.” Long before he is two years old he is broken and mounted and galloped, and taught to face the starting-gate. He is “jumped off” from a stand with the whole of the weight he is carrying in the wrong place—in the place which ensures the strain coming with undue force on his forelegs. Be it understood that I am not discussing the starting-gate and its utility on a racecourse; with that I have nothing to do here. I am merely stating that starting horses at top speed, or as nearly top speed as is attainable, from a stand, with all the weight on the top of the shoulders, so that the strain comes fully on to their sinews, is quite sufficient to account for the “dicky” forelegs and feet which are so frequent on our modern racecourses.
The artificiality of our modern racing, the multiplication of meetings at one place, and the gradual decay of the old country meetings, combined with the immense increase in the value of stakes—an increase, by the way, which owners principally provide themselves—have all had an effect on sport which is not altogether advantageous. But where, it may be asked, can these things have any effect upon the breed of horses as a breed? They have more effect than at first sight would appear. They tend to bring racing into fewer hands—into the hands of rich men. They tend to increase the service fees of stallions. They tend also to shut out the small man and the small breeder, because they make racing more expensive.
The old country meetings encouraged the small breeder. His expenses for entry, &c., were small, and if the stakes to be won were small, his travelling expenses, jockeys’ fees, &c., were on a similar scale. He could, if fairly well-to-do, afford to race for sport. For him fashion had no charm. A practical horse-breeder, he had his own fancies as to how to mate his mares; he ran his horses at local meetings, was delighted when he won a fifty pound plate, and his horses travelled in his neighbourhood and filled it with a good half-bred stock.
It may be said that we cannot go back, that gate-money meetings have come to stay, and that the country meetings can never be revived. Perhaps this is so, but if it is, it is all the worse for the Turf, and for the thoroughbred, the interest in which is undoubtedly dying out in some parts of the country.
So far I have endeavoured to show how we fail to make the best use of our thoroughbreds as racehorses; how we breed them injudiciously, feed them injudiciously, and put too great a strain upon them before their bone is set. For there can be little doubt but that the strain upon the young thoroughbred in training is much greater now than when the starting gate and the modern seat were unknown.
Now I will proceed to the other side of the question—to the thoroughbred as a general purpose horse. It is obvious that the value of the breed depends in a great measure upon his qualities of speed, pluck, and endurance with a man of ordinary weight on his back and doing ordinary or extraordinary work. On the qualifications of the thoroughbred as a general purpose horse there are wide differences of opinion and some very bitter things are said of his lack of stamina and his unsoundness and many other of his shortcomings which readers can fill in for themselves. Notwithstanding all these things that are said about him my own practical experience teaches me that for any purpose, what the late Whyte Melville described as “a thoroughbred with brains” is the best horse. The best hunters I have ridden and seen ridden have been thoroughbred; the best harness horse for work I ever sat behind was bought out of a selling race for £15, and the late Major Dalbiac, than whom no better horseman was to be found, told me that the best charger he ever rode in action was a thoroughbred that had had little preliminary training. This, of course, is a very different thing to saying that all thoroughbred horses, or that even a very large percentage of them, are good hunters, harness horses, or chargers. But it shows that, if they are fairly used and the most made of them, there would not need to be such an outcry as there is now as to the scarcity of good saddle horses.
An out-cross has been alluded to, and unfortunately the famous Herod line is nearly extinct. But it is not quite extinct, and as the line is not fashionable, what stallions there are with the Herod blood in their veins will not be out of the reach of breeders who do not breed for the sale ring. An Arab out-cross might be very valuable. It is true that the Arabs have inbred for generations to as great an extent as we have, but they have not inbred on the same line, and therefore an Arab cross might be very valuable. It does not necessarily follow that because the Arab is undersized and light in bone that the offspring of a thoroughbred mare and an Arab sire would be undersized and light in bone. That it would be valuable as a racehorse is perhaps open to question, but the value of the out-cross would be seen in three or four generations, even for racing purposes. It will probably be urged that it would be an expensive experiment to try, for it is palpable that such an experiment should not be tried with a mare of inferior quality. That may be admitted at once, and the reason of its being expensive is that, owing to the greatly increased value of stakes in these days, racehorses have come to have a fictitious market price, and especially stallions which have a good winning record. But surely there are to be found men who would run the risk of a problematical loss—in the North there is a proverb to the effect that a man cannot lose what he has never had—for the sake of the good which would result to the thoroughbred as a breed. For once establish the practical value of an out-cross in the thoroughbred and the result would be the same as it was with the Shorthorn—every one would hasten to adopt it.
There is also another plan which might be adopted, and it is surprising that it has not been adopted; and that is the establishment of a small stud of thoroughbreds, with the avowed object of breeding them for general purposes, and not for racing. This did not succeed so very badly in the past, and there is no reason why it should not succeed again. It is true that a possible Derby winner might be found carrying a man to hounds
The writer is convinced that a stud of this kind, well managed, would pay its way, from the way he has seen several purchases at the yearling sales turn out. It is with some gentlemen a regular custom to attend the yearling sales, with the view of purchasing youngsters that will develop into hunters. They never give more than an average of twenty-five guineas for them, and very rarely is that sum exceeded for an individual. Care is, of course, taken to pick a big bony, growing colt or filly, and he or she leads a perfectly natural life from the moment of arriving at the new home, running out the whole of the winters, but getting shelter at night and a little corn twice a day. At three years old they are mouthed, and at four they are broken, and a large percentage of those that have come under my notice have turned out good hunters up to from thirteen to fourteen stone.
By doing away with inbreeding on such an extensive scale as it is now practised, and by treating our horses more fairly in every way—putting no undue strain on immature young horses—we may find those “careful steps” which Professor Ridgeway urges should be taken “to preserve our good breeds and not permit them to be contaminated and destroyed by rash experiments in breeding.”
Mr. Vyell Edward Walker.
On the early morning of January 3rd one of the greatest cricketers this world has produced passed peacefully away, after a brief illness, in his sixty-ninth year.
Of all families associated with the national game, the Walkers of Southgate are pre-eminently the most famous; all the seven brothers were devoted to cricket, and six of them took very high honours at the game, whilst of “V. E.” the universal opinion of those best qualified to judge is, and long has been, that whilst W. G. Grace is the greatest cricketer that ever lived, V. E. Walker was the greatest cricketer who preceded him.
Mr. Walker was born on April 20th, 1837, at Southgate. His earliest studies in the science of cricket were pursued on the common at Stanmore, where he and his four elder brothers were at school before proceeding to Harrow. 1850 found him building a big cricket reputation at Harrow, and by the time he left school in 1854 he was recognised as one of the most promising and prominent amateurs in the country, so that it was only in the natural order of events that he should represent the Gentlemen against the Players a year or two later. From his Harrow days up to the year 1877, when he retired from the captaincy of the Middlesex County eleven, his was one of the most conspicuously active figures in the world of cricket during an epoch of over a quarter of a century.
Lillywhite’s for the year 1859 pronounces Mr. V. E. Walker to be “undoubtedly the best all-round cricketer in the world,” and in 1860 we find the same writer affirming: “To Mr. V. E. Walker we gave last season the credit of being the best all-round cricketer in the world. We have no reason now to alter our opinion, as the figures in the batting and bowling departments will justify the statement.”
In “The Cricketers’ Guide for 1860” we find the following: “Bell’s Life in London considered this gentleman to be A1 last season altogether. It said of him: ‘In coming to the most useful man in an eleven we should not be far wrong in selecting Mr. V. E. Walker.’ As a slow bowler no one (with his fielding) can touch him. A very dangerous bat, and anywhere in the field he is sure to save a vast number of runs. Certainly England cannot be well represented without him, and we doubt whether such an omission will for some years be ever attempted.” It is interesting to remember that at the time all this high praise was justly showered upon V. E. Walker he was only twenty-one years of age. It was in 1859 that he performed his great feat at the Oval, when he scored 20 and 108, and secured the whole of the ten wickets in the first innings. When Mr. Walker had taken nine wickets, and the last two men were together, Julius CÆsar was missed off his bowling, but after this he got rid of Martingell, and so accounted for the dismissal of the entire side, whilst the not-out man had actually been missed off his bowling. There must have been an exciting finish to this match, for we read that “Surrey were all disposed of in the last innings for 39 runs! which lasted over an hour and a half. 20 to 1 was repeatedly laid when England was got out—half-past four on the Saturday—that the match was a drawn one. The day was very dull, and therefore the light was bad, which, coupled with Jackson’s extra-pace bowling, will account for the small innings. Mr. V. E. Walker’s performances in this match are unprecedented. Upon two other occasions Mr. Walker took all ten wickets in one innings—for Gentlemen of Middlesex against Gentlemen of Kent in 1864, and for Middlesex against Lancashire in 1865.”
Mr. Edward Rutter, who played regularly with him, says: “He was a most formidable customer as a bowler, and he was the most athletic fellow that I ever saw in the cricket field. I have seen him catch a man behind the batsman’s wicket near short leg, which shows as well as anything that I can think of what a lot of ground he covered. It did not matter to him how hard the ball was driven back to him; if it was within reach, he made a catch of it with either hand. His action was peculiar; it was a sort of ‘half-cock’ action, for his hand, which was higher than the hip when the ball was leaving it, was at some distance from the body. He always bowled round the wicket, so that the ball came at a considerable angle. But, in my opinion, the greatest reason for his success in bowling was the way in which he fielded it; he was all over the place. How he managed to get his spin I do not know, but he had enough of it.”
Another interesting reference to Mr. Walker’s method of bowling comes from Canon McCormick, of St. James’s, Piccadilly: “I think that ‘V. E.’ was the best slow bowler I ever played, after old Clarke, who bowled as a rule faster than ‘V. E.’ ‘V. E.’ and W. B. Money were perhaps nearer each other in style than any other two bowlers of the time. I never think that Money had full justice done to him. ‘V. E.’ was better than he in both judgment and the way in which he fielded his own bowling; they neither of them tossed the ball in the air as much as other bowlers. ‘V. E.’s’ difficulty chiefly lay in his deceptive variation of pace. He was a splendid judge of a batsman’s abilities, and very quickly found out his weak spots. He did not concern himself with averages, his one leading idea was to get a man out.”
V. E. Walker earned every distinction and honour which the world of cricket could offer. Admittedly the greatest cricketer of the age, he was asked to captain any team representative of England, the South of England, or the Gentlemen, and indeed his marked ability as captain of a side was one of his most valuable qualities.
Mr. C. E. Green says: “Teddy was a splendid captain at every point of the game, and was always cheery under the most disheartening circumstances. Even when you had tried for a catch and missed it, feeling that you were a worm, you did not feel miserable for long, for he would come up to you and say, ‘Well tried, old chap. No one else would have got near the ball.’ The result was that you began to think you had done something rather clever, and it would be a bad look-out for any batsman who selected you for a catch after that.”
He was one of the founders of the Middlesex County Club in the early sixties, and captained the team until he gave up first-class cricket in 1877. The history of Middlesex cricket is intimately associated with the Walker family; they started the Club, and supported it not only by their brilliant cricket gifts, but financially. In the early days of Middlesex cricket their matches were played on the old Cattle Market ground at Islington. When this site was handed over to the builders Middlesex migrated to Lillie Bridge, but quickly moved on to the luxurious ground of Prince’s Club, where Hans Place now stands. When this ground was built over Middlesex accepted the invitation of the Marylebone Club to make Lord’s their headquarters, and during the last few years it must have been interesting to Mr. Walker, as President of the Middlesex Club, to see a handsome income rolling in each year to the credit of the Club, which he and his brothers had for so many years supported and financed. In 1866 Middlesex were what would nowadays be styled Champion County, winning six out of their eight matches and only losing one, when they were beaten by Cambridgeshire.
It looks now as if the time is remote when Cambridgeshire will again beat Middlesex. When a couple of years ago Middlesex were again Champion County, Mr. Walker and his brother, the celebrated Mr. Russell D. Walker, entertained the County team to signalise the event. In the fifties and sixties the cricket played at Southgate was second to none in the world. The Walker brothers were in every sense of the word hosts in themselves, and by the addition of a few of their personal friends they were able to get a Southgate team fit to beat all comers.
Here is a very interesting extract from the “Cricketers’ Guide” with reference to the match of the United All England Eleven against John Walker, Esq.’s, Sixteen at Southgate in 1859. “Grand preparations were made in Mr. John’s usual liberal manner. The betting was spirited, especially when it was known that the valuable services of Mr. C. D. Marsham (which proved so effective in 1858) could not be obtained. The ground was in first-rate condition, the usual labour and attention having been paid to it. The splendid band of the 2nd Life Guards was in attendance, and a very large assemblage made their appearance each day. Vehicles from all parts lined the ground, and the Great Northern Railway ran trains to the Colney Hatch station about a mile and a half from Southgate. The eleven were most hospitably entertained by this well-known supporter, who, it will be noticed, manages to get hold of sufficient strength to always win. For the United, Carpenter scored 9 and 27, J. Caffyn 124 and 30, J. Grundy 56 and 1, Lockyer 20 and 37. For Southgate, Mr. J. Chalkley 18, Mr. E. Dowson 21, Mr. V. E. Walker 88, Mr. F. P. Miller 26, Mr. H. Perkins 60 and 4. Notwithstanding the tremendous scores of the United men, they could not pull it off—Southgate winning in the most plucky manner.”
What with Southgate and Middlesex, with several matches under the auspices of the Surrey Club at the Oval, and occasional matches for the Free Foresters and other clubs, Mr. Walker was able to fill up his cricket season to the best possible advantage; but we shall always regret that his cricket career had just terminated before the visit to this country of the first Australian team in 1878, so that he never had an opportunity of playing in an International match, although to his wise judgment and that of his brother, I. D., was entrusted the selection of the first team to represent England at the Oval in 1878.
V. E. Walker was always in office at Lord’s; in 1891 he filled the post of President, and afterwards was one of the three trustees of the Marylebone Club. He was Chairman of the Wood Green Bench of Magistrates, and only a month or two ago he was the recipient of a presentation walking-stick from members of the police force to commemorate the services he had rendered to a constable in dealing with a violent ruffian. V. E. Walker was a great philanthropist; he gave a public recreation ground to Southgate, he spent thousands of pounds for public improvements in his neighbourhood, and no one will ever know the extent of his private charities.
In every circle in which he moved his death has created void which cannot be filled.
“Our Van.”
RACING.
The retro- and introspection with which some indulge themselves during the dead winter season for flat-racing must leave in the minds of such feelings of uneasiness. One had but to read the sporting papers very deeply to realise that racing was not being indulged in in the typical spirit of give and take; and when we found staring us in the face the advertisement of the Racehorse Owners’ Association, instituted for the protection of owners’ interests, one realised clearly enough that grievances were felt to exist. Possibly in due course the particular grievances which the covenanting owners desire to see redressed will be set forth, for of course the trouble was not taken to found the Association without some ostensible reason. In the meantime, the Jockey Club has declined to take official cognisance of the Association. So far as we have gone, the state of affairs seems to be that certain owners have formed themselves into an association, and have applied to the Jockey Club for official recognition. In effect the Jockey Club asks the Association, “Who are you?” Having so long ruled supreme and unchallenged, the Jockey Club no doubt feels it a little abrupt when a body formed outside itself suddenly appears, and practically suggests that it shall have a word or two to say in the government of the Turf. If it is not to have some sort of say, then there seems to be no reason for its advances towards the Jockey Club, or for its existence even. Enough has been said in print during the past twelve months to make the Jockey Club aware that the advance is not being made in a too friendly spirit towards them; therefore they practically reply, “Thank you, we can get on very well alone, and without your assistance, as heretofore.” It does not follow that an association of racehorse owners cannot exist and do good work without any reference whatever to the Jockey Club. Leaving outside the government of racing as conducted by the Jockey Club, there is plenty of room for the operations of such an association. Combination between owners has been sadly wanting. Now that there is some sign of it, one would like to see the body establish a right to its existence by the carrying out of measures of benefit to the owners and, by consequence, to racing as a whole. To the outsider it seems a little premature for a body, before it has won its spurs, so to speak, to aspire to deal on equal terms with the ruling powers. There are several matters connected with the practice of racing with which progressive or reforming owners might profitably interest themselves in conclave. Before a body can hope to be regarded as a negotiable quantity it must show some capacity for self-government and for dealing with questions of a kind that come naturally within its scope. Owners, as a whole, complain that their interests are not sufficiently considered. The complaint is not here refuted, but so far there has been lacking that combination of action which alone can effect changes. It is not too much to say that an association of owners can bring about that which it is beyond the powers of the Jockey Club to effect, because outside their scope. The Jockey Club can only be administrative; and already it has been accused of going too deeply into minutiÆ. Those details which concern the owners should be settled by the owners themselves. It does not seem necessary for them to approach the Jockey Club at all in order to make their presence and power felt. They have but to agree amongst themselves how to act and how not to act under certain conditions, and the rest will come. One can speak in this way so long as one is in the dark concerning the aspirations and intentions of the new body, which has yet to issue its propaganda. When details appear it will be possible to discuss them. For the present, therefore, we must wait in patience.
Amongst the most important matters which a body of owners coming together for the protection of its interests can take in hand is the jockey question. Despite all that has been done the jockey is still the master of the situation; and this is bad for racing. A position in which the jockey dictates the terms is an intolerable one, but that is the position in which the Turf finds itself. It is not a new state of things by any means. The “It’s no use asking me what will win; go and ask that long-legged devil,” of Matt. Dawson could be paraphrased to-day, though the question of dishonesty is not being trenched upon here. What owners have to consider is, whether the relative positions existing between owner and jockey are those of master and man, and whether the reward given the jockey is not altogether out of disproportion to the service rendered. The enormous issues that are at times at stake, and the fatal power for good or evil that is given into the hands of the jockey, as forming the last link in a chain every other link of which has been forged with scrupulous care and disregard of cost, are what give the jockey his advantage. And this advantage he will always hold so long as he is allowed to feel his power, and not made to understand that there is a master mind over him. If the hard truth has to be told, the master mind is what is lacking. By slow stages at first and then rapid ones, we have passed from the times when the jockey stood humbly upon the mat awaiting the pleasure of his lordship, to a day when it is the owner who metaphorically stands upon the mat. To put the matter in a few words, the jockey is enabled to make an income that is not only far too large to be good for him, especially when we consider the lowly station from which he usually springs, but, in addition, is immeasurably in excess of his deserts. Clearing ourselves of the glamour of custom, it must appear plain that it is a ridiculous thing to give a jockey, say, £500 for winning a race, even be it the Derby. How can a jockey ride worth £500? Only on the supposition that if he is not able to anticipate some such guerdon of victory he will not put in his best work and so possibly lose the race; in which case he will be a dishonest jockey and should be dealt with in a totally different manner. The writer does not hesitate to put it on paper that there is no reason why a jockey should be paid more for winning the Derby than for winning any other race, for the simple reason that it is just as easy to win; and we do not have to go back many years to find a jockey who rode an indifferent race, but won through the merit of his horse, rewarded in a manner that would have been extravagant had he performed some prodigy of horsemanship and snatched the race out of the fire by its means. The thing is so glaringly disproportionate, that one is driven to assume that the giving of large presents to jockeys for winning certain races is done out of deference to a custom, the courage to disregard which is lacking. So much is the thing overdone, that one almost comes to applaud instances in which an entirely diametrical course has been pursued, in which the suggestion of parsimony in the case of meritorious riding has been braved.
Even when we take the purely commercial side of racing, in which the sole object is to bring off a betting coup, we see no reason why the jockey should be made a party to the pecuniary gains. It is, of course, the common custom to make him a party by putting him on so much to win. But why? Surely, looked at dispassionately, five guineas is a very nice reward for riding a race. The question of trying or not trying is, of course, quite outside the question. The jockey who does not try when he is being paid to do so is a thief, pure and simple. Consequently, when a jockey is being bribed by promise of extra reward to try, he is merely being educated to be a thief. Why should one be compelled to say, as one practically is, “If you win I will give you so and so?” The assumption should always be that when a jockey mounts a horse he will do his utmost to win: whatever the practice may be, this is the only tenable theory. But we may set aside the proposition of trying and not trying, and come to the position of a jockey not riding at all except at a certain fee. This position is one which the owners themselves only can deal with, and here, I fancy, the Racehorse Owners’ Association, if ever they come to consider the question, will meet a serious stumbling block. The strength of those owners, racing chiefly for sport, whom, purely for the sake of convenience, I will call the Jockey Club circle, is that they do not meet in fevered competition for the services of jockeys. Here we find the distance between master and man kept as wide as it should be, and as it was in the past. The two parties concerned do not meet on the same plane as is the case when mere money is at issue and the end is considered justified by any kind of means. For the state of things at which we have arrived owners must be considered solely to blame, for they have the remedy in their own hands. No fault can reasonably be found with the jockeys for making what hay they can whilst the sun shines. Owners are not unjustifiably complaining of the heavy expenses of racing. Is not the heavy expense of jockeys an item worthy of consideration?
In this matter of over-paying jockeys it seems as though the trainer is not being treated with justice. If, for the sake of argument, it be right and proper for the rider of a Derby winner to receive a present of £500, how much, in the name of equity, should the trainer not receive? He spends anxious months, even years, with animals of enormous value under his charge, which must be kept well and brought to the post trained to the hour. Upon the successful exploitation of the horses entrusted to his charge he has to bring several qualities to bear; and if outsiders are apt to think £2 10s. per week a considerable sum to pay for the charge of a selling “plater,” it becomes insignificant enough in the case of a possible Derby winner, even if the charge be as high as three guineas. The owner has yet to be met with who says to his trainer: “You have a Derby horse of mine. If he wins I shall pay you £10 per week for his training instead of £2 10s.” But this would not be out of keeping with the presentation of several hundreds of pounds to a jockey for riding a single race. The trainer, of course, takes his chance, but so should the jockey, and it is not at all creditable that he should be made the spoiled child of the Turf that he is. The statement that jockeys make more money than anyone else is scarcely to be contradicted, and such a state of things is entirely wrong. So far from the jockey of to-day doing more work for his money, the contrary is the case, as those in the habit of watching morning gallops can testify. It is a difficult thing now to get a jockey who has reached the stage of “fancying himself” to trouble himself about morning gallops. So much, at least, English jockeys have condescended to learn from the Americans.
The National Hunt is still active in its endeavours to devise a satisfactory hurdle, but its latest effort has by no means met with general approval. The Clerk of the Course at Hurst Park received instructions from the Committee to supply a hurdle, the foot of which was to measure 16 in from the bottom rail and be wholly inserted in the ground. It was to be put in at an angle so as to slope the hurdle, the common method adopted by the farm labourers who usually undertake such work being to ram the hurdle in straight and then force it over to the required slope. This is an abundant cause of the swinging-back hurdle that is so dangerous. So far so good; but the Committee provided further that the hurdles were to be bushed in the middle part only, the bottom and top rails standing out clear. It was of course the top rail that mattered, for horses accustomed to bushed tops might easily fail to see it. The innovation came in for severe criticism at the hands of trainers, some horses being sent home without competing. The very reasonable objection was made that it is scarcely fair to horses to spring a surprise of this sort upon them. It is one thing to school a horse carefully at a new kind of obstacle, and quite another to ask him to race over it. A further item of complaint, with which, however the National Hunt had nothing to do, was against the too solid nature of the end uprights of the hurdles, two coming together, making quite a formidable obstruction that suggested risk to life and limb.
By the death of Mr. William George Craven, which occurred at his residence, 63, Curzon Street, Mayfair, last month, the Jockey Club has lost its oldest member, with the exception of the Earl of Coventry, who was elected forty-six years ago, twelve months prior to the election of the late Mr. Craven. The deceased gentleman was instrumental in obtaining several reforms in the Jockey Club which were much needed at the time. Born in 1835, the late Mr. Craven was the eldest son of the late Hon. George Augustus Craven. He was educated at Eton, and served a few years in the 1st Life Guards. He was elected a member of the Jockey Club at the early age of twenty-six, and three years afterwards was appointed a Steward. He was again appointed Steward in 1879, during which period of office he was called upon to deal with the memorable objection to Bend Or after the Derby of 1880. Mr. Craven owned many good horses in his time, and among his winnings were the Gold Vase at Ascot in 1864, and the Great Metropolitan Stakes at Epsom the following year. Most of his horses were, however, sold in 1866, since which date his colours have been seldom seen on the racecourse.
HUNTING.
The past month will be remembered by hunting people for the number of long, well-sustained hunts that have taken place. Almost any one of them would be entitled to take a place among the historic runs recorded from time to time in Baily. The most remarkable was the run of the Albrighton on Saturday, December 30th. It will be remembered that this well-known Staffordshire hunt started the season with a new master, Lieut.-Colonel Goulburn, and a new huntsman, Morris, who had been first whipper-in, under Tom Bishopp, with the Grafton, and had succeeded the latter as huntsman. The fixture was at Dudmaston, in the Bridgnorth district. This is a meet which attracts few, for one of the last lessons we learn in hunting is that it is better to go to meets, good or bad by reputation, if you have a horse fit to go. We never know where or when the great run will come off. The first fox went down to the Severn and swam across. The next fox, after a much longer hunt, also ran down to the Severn, near Apley Park, which river here divides the Albrighton from the Wheatland country. Without hesitation he entered the river and, followed by the pack, swam across. This of course threw out the huntsmen and field, but they found a bridge, and Morris got to his hounds in time, by a judicious cast, to hit off the line. Not without checks and difficulty, but with hounds and huntsman working well, the line was kept until at last darkness set in, and after two hours and a half hounds had to be stopped.
The coming change in the Blankney Hunt is a matter of rejoicing, because once more a Bentinck will be connected with a hunt which Lord Henry Bentinck did so much for. Readers of Baily who will turn back to their old volumes will learn easily how much. Then Lord Charles Bentinck, who is to become huntsman and joint master, is a well-known soldier and polo player. He was one of the team of the 9th Lancers, in their best days a most brilliant regimental team. Lord Charles will no doubt make a good huntsman, and keep up the Blankney record of sport over what is probably the best scenting and perhaps the stiffest country in Lincolnshire. On the other hand, I am sorry that it should displace an excellent hunt servant and old friend in George Shepherd, who, under three masters, has done so well. It is not likely, however, that so good a huntsman will be long in want of a situation. He is one of those instances where a first-rate whipper-in has made an excellent huntsman.
Among the packs that have had noteworthy runs must be included the Heythrop. Theirs took place on Friday, December 22nd. They met at New Barn, and found at once. In the Bourton Vale hounds ran well. The scent, though not burning, was holding, and hounds worked out the line without much help. The finish was a kill in Bruern Wood after a fine hunt of two hours and a quarter. The distance from point to point is ten miles, but hounds must have covered fifteen miles or more. Captain Daly, Mr. and Mrs. Cecil Lord, and Major Scott were among those who saw it all.
As I write the news reaches me that the North Cotswold have found a master. This country, of course, is neighbour to the Heythrop. Mr. McNeill’s successor is Sir John Hume Campbell, at present Master of the Ormond, where he has not found that foxes are preserved as they ought to be. In the North Cotswold there is nothing to be desired. Sir John intends to hunt the hounds himself. It is not stated whether Mr. McNeill’s wonderful pack of Belvoir-bred bitches will be kept in the country, but no doubt this will be the case. Masters are not scarce, for there were no less than twenty-two candidates.
Melton condition seldom fails to carry the sportsman to the end of the day, but on Monday, January 8th, the Quorn, having met at Nether Broughton, hounds led them such a dance in the Belvoir Vale that many horses could not reach the end. No doubt the going was heavy, for there has been a fall of rain which has made up for the drought. In Welby Osier Beds they found their fox, and this covert is a key to the best of the Belvoir. At Bescaby Oaks, the traditional first draw of the Belvoir on the opening day, the fox saved his brush.
Even more remarkable was the run the Woodland Pytchley had on January 8th. The big woods of this country are divided by grass fields and big fences, and it always seems to me that to be practicable at all there are no more formidable fences than some of the boundary fences of this country. During the early months of the year, in a well-preserved country with strong coverts, foxes are on the move, and a stout travelling woodland fox takes a great deal of killing, even with that sharp pack of bitches which Tom Carr handles so well. Hounds ran two wide rings from Carlton Wood, and then perhaps with a fresh fox hunted on to Desbrough. Had there been a kill, this run would have been perfect in its way. In any case, it adds one more to the many old-fashioned runs we have to tell of this month.
To this must be added the run of the Blankney also on January 8th, which was one of the days that have provided a good scent in many countries. Mr. Edgar Lubbock took his hounds, by Sir Gilbert Greenall’s invitation, to Aswarby. Sir George Whichcote is such a careful fox preserver that the Belvoir, with their wide extent of country, cannot come often enough. It was a gallant old customer that they found in one of the plantations. The line was very straight, and that they travelled a nine-mile point in fifty minutes shows that the pace was more than ordinarily good.
No country has, without adding to our list of historic runs, had a better average season than the Atherstone under Mr. Munro and Whitemore. But for a long and sustained chase ending with a kill the palm must be awarded to the Fitzwilliam at Tillbrook. The bitch pack dropped on to an out-lier. Starting close to his brush, the pack settled to hunt at a fair pace, and, best of all, never left the line till they reached Barnwell Wood, through which good scenting covert hounds ran furiously for blood, and were not long in catching their fox. This was one of those runs not too fast for the horses, with no checks, and hounds doing their own with lots of drive and merry music, that keep up one’s love for foxhunting.
Still another long and good run is to hand. There are people who tell me, and I can well believe it, that Dursley is an admirable centre. Indeed, many West country people migrate thither after Christmas in search of sport, and are seldom disappointed.
The Fitzhardinge, meeting on January 9th, at Empney, on the Gloucestershire side of their country, drew Monkshill, and found a fox which within a radius of five or six miles knew a lot of country. He stood up for two hours. Several times hounds went very fast, and the fox was kept moving the whole time. Nevertheless, he beat them after all, fairly running hounds out of scent. Then came a bright scurry; but perhaps it is on a working day the Fitzhardinge pack are seen to the best advantage. No “sleeping partners of the chase” are allowed in the Berkeley Castle kennels.
Foxes and stags choose strange refuges, and this month has seen a fox found on a lime-kiln and in a coal-hole; a stag was hunted through the streets of Lancaster town. This season I saw a fox run up a lane on the road, spring on to the bank, and double back along the top of the bank, and lie down in the hedgerow. Naturally the hounds hit it off in the lane, and running up some distance, were then cast on either side of the road, but of course without effect. It was late in the day, and the Master had actually started for home, when some one saw the fox, which, however, deserved to escape.
No pack has had a better season on the average than the Duke of Beaufort’s. Their country always seems to me to hold a scent well, and the Duke and his huntsman are such masters of the science of hunting that it is a pleasure to see them handle hounds. Though the day in question, January 6th, at Hullavington, afforded nothing extraordinary, yet if every day we could hunt over a line as pleasant and varied as this side of the Duke’s country we should have nothing to complain of. Foxes, too, are always plentiful, and the more I hunt and the more experience of different countries I have, the more fully do I appreciate Beckford’s wisdom in liking plenty of foxes.
I suppose that the present season will be looked back on by the followers of the three staghound packs in the West as one of the best hind-hunting seasons on record. In the first place, the inclement weather which often makes hunting on Exmoor in the winter months a doubtful pleasure has this year not been endured. A few days of frost, a few of fog, and some wet days, but on the whole the weather and the scent have been in favour of the hounds, and hounds have run very straight. That is, they have made good points, but a red deer hind generally runs a ring or two, and then just when you think she is beaten away she goes straight and hard as if she never meant to stop. Mr. Stanley’s hounds, meeting by invitation of the Devon and Somerset at Slowley Wood, on Saturday, December 30th, had a run which was remarkable for straightness and pace. It lasted about three hours. There is always some preliminary work with a hind. Much depends on whether hounds can be kept at her. This one had little peace. She was found in the open, and about half an hour later the Master sent for the pack. He was enabled to steal a march by lifting hounds into the Avill valley, where they took up the line by the well-known farmhouse, and at once climbed the hill at its steepest part. Going up with them one lost ground, as they ran well and straight into a linhay behind Alcombe Village. This seemed to be the end, but some excited lads frightened the hind out. She dashed right through the pack and then went straight away for Dunkery Beacon. Those who had ridden the run had been galloping hard for two hours, and horses climbed the steep sides slowly: far more quickly did hounds reach the top. Three-quarters of an hour later this hind soiled in the stream at Nutscale and, unable to leave it, was killed. The first point to Alcombe was five miles, the second about seven, and the hind travelled quite twice as far to make her points. Allowing for the turns, though the pace was very good, hounds hunted beautifully, and every one was up at the finish. Perhaps even more remarkable was the run of January.
The Devon and Somerset met on Thursday, January 11th, at Heathpoult—a geographical expression—near the famous coverts of Throatcombe and Chargot. Three hinds were roused, and one was quickly singled out. From that moment till the hind was killed hounds hunted continuously. It was an exceedingly fine performance on the part of the hounds and huntsman. About eight couple of tufters were out, and on these fell most of the work. One incident showing the control of the huntsman over his hounds and what can be done to make foxhounds handy. These hounds, be it remembered, are big doghounds with a few large bitches. Now doghounds, as we all know, are apt to be self-willed and headstrong. I may also note that the heel-line of a red deer is often very tempting. Well, the huntsman was on one side of a valley, and the hounds were working on the other, when two or three couple hit the heel-line and threw their tongues eagerly. “Ware heel,” said the huntsman, naming the hounds. They stopped, looked across, and as if seeing it was their huntsman, left the heel-line and drove forward, and picked up the line of their quarry which had gone on. Once again the huntsman delighted me when hounds divided, by going to fetch those running on the fresh line. He saved the situation in a most difficult place. After a long, interesting and intricate hunt, we at last emerged on the heather, and for some miles stretched over the heather as far as Exford Common. Twice the hind took refuge among other deer, and each time she was driven out.
Then at the nick of time the Master (Mr. Greig) brought up the pack, and we had a glorious gallop right back to Annicombe. Then away to Cloutsham, and then the whole length of Horner to the mill; then up over the hill and across the valley to West Luccombe, where hounds took their deer. We ran from about 10.30 to 2. Besides the Master and hunt servants, only three of those who had started from Heathpoult were present. Several joined us by the way, and some good and true followers were left on Dunkery. The pace was good at times, but formed an intricate piece of hound-work, and an example of how handy foxhounds can be made, and how they can hold to the line of their quarry; for we saw at least thirty other deer on the way. With this run may be compared the very fine bit of hound-work displayed by the Cottesmore when they met at Luffenham. Thatcher is another huntsman who has made his big doghounds as handy as beagles.
I believe with these the whole secret is personal attachment to the man who hunts. Self-willed and sulky if knocked about or rated, a dog-hound will do anything for the man he loves.
The Cottesmore ran from Luffenham, though in the first place a hunt for the lover hounds, was not without interest for the riding man, since the line lay over that wild and delightful tract of the Cottesmore country which lies round Wing and Manton. From field to field hounds hunted, always working forward, always on the line, ever drawing nearer to their fox. If the fox regulates his pace, as I believe he does, by the strength of the chorus behind him, this fox could have had but little rest, as the sustained roar of the pack told him that they were relentlessly pursuing. The end came at Glaston Gorse, when a thoroughly wearied fox succumbed at last to the pack. During the past week—Thursday, January 11th—the Cottesmore and Mr. Fernie’s hounds met at East Norton, which is on the border of the two countries. Charles Isaac, Mr. Fernie’s huntsman, handled the combined packs, with his late whipper-in, Thatcher, of Cottesmore, to help him.
In consequence of the prolonged ill-health of Mr. C. E. Green, the Committee of the Essex Hunt have decided to seek a new Master, and the following advertisement has appeared in the papers: “As a Master will be required for the Essex Hunt at the end of the season, any gentleman wishing to offer himself as Master is invited to apply to the Hon. Secretary, Mr. A. Waters, Coopersale Lodge, Epping, Essex.”
HUNTING IN YORKSHIRE.
Fine open weather continues, and at the time of writing—the day on which the mean temperature is, on an average, the lowest in the year—it is so mild that one would almost think the season would get through without any lengthy stoppage. Whether sport does not benefit by a little frost is a question which is open to discussion, and at any rate it cannot be said that the most open seasons have been distinguished by the most historical runs.
Nor has there been a great average of sport since I last wrote, though there have been a few runs the records of which are worth preserving; the disposition to fog, however, is decidedly against sport, and we have had a lot of fog this season, hounds having been stopped by it several times.
It should be noticed that the good example set by Lord Helmsley in the early part of last month has been followed in many parts of Yorkshire and the neighbouring counties, and it is satisfactory to see that the Hunt Servants’ Benefit Society is likely to benefit to a considerable extent by the plan which had such a happy inception when the Sinnington met at Habton Village early in December. It may perhaps interest some of my readers to know that over £80 was collected on the day the Bramham Moor met at Tockwith. That same day when they met at Tockwith (December 15th) they had a good day’s sport. White Syke Whin, which has been a certain find this season, and has now got to be a very fine covert, provided a brace of foxes to begin with, and with one of these they had a brilliant forty-five minutes by Marston Whin, which they skirted, Bilton Grange, Bickerton Village, and Ingmanthorpe Willow Garth to Lingcroft, where they rolled him over. A second fox from the Rash took them by the banks of the Nidd, and over it to an osier-bed near Kirk Hammerton Hall, where they marked him to ground; and a short but merry burst from Hutton Thorns to Collier Haggs, ending in a kill, brought a good day’s sport to a close.
On Monday, December 25th, they had a very good hunting run of a couple of hours. The fixture was Woodhall Bridge, and as they were moving off to draw, a travelling fox was viewed near Addlethorpe. Smith soon had hounds on his line, and they ran fast by Lund Head to Ingham’s Whin, and through it by Parkin Wood to Cocked Hat Whin. They checked for a moment, but ran on again cheerily over Barrowby Hill to the Punchbowl. Then came some slower hunting to Leconfield Whin, and nearly to Rudding Park; and then over the railway, when the pace improved, and they fairly raced over the grass of Spofforth Haggs to Ingham’s Plantation. Here they checked, but they hit off the line again over the Spacey Houses road, and hunted nearly to Swindon Wood, where the fox beat them.
They had a useful day’s sport on Friday, January 5th, when they met at Walton. Walton Wood, as usual, held foxes, and one went away without much pressing in the direction of Thorp Arch.
Whether he was headed, or whether it was a travelling fox making for the wood, it is difficult to say, but as Smith was taking hounds to the holloa they met a fox, and soon ran into him. Then came a long draw before they found again in New Spring, whence they hunted at a holding pace by Heslock Field Rash up to Cowthorpe Village. A right-hand turn took them thence through Lingcroft, where the pace improved, and past Bickerton Village, and they finally marked the fox to ground not far from the York Road. Champagne Whin held a fox, which after half an hour’s ringing round about the Igmanthorpe coverts was killed in Hatfield’s Plantation. They found again in Thorp Arch Whin, and hunted with no great scent over the park, and by Walton to Walton Wood, where the fox beat them.
The Bedale have been having some good old-fashioned hunting runs during the month. On Friday, December 29th, they met at Scorton, and found in a small covert named Greenberry. The fox had apparently been gone some time, for they hunted slowly at first by Hewson Hill to Streetland. Here the pace improved, and hounds ran smartly, pointing for Pepper Arden, and then by Rushwood to the Hobden Hill Plantation at Kiplin. They hovered for a moment when they got through this covert—it was scarcely a check—and Freeman held them over a sticky fallow on to the grass, and away they raced again nearly to Ellerton. Then they turned along the Swale-side to Loughton Village and Loughton Hall. Then crossing the Swale a little further on they pointed for Kirby Fleetham. Then skirting Scruton Wood they ran by Morton Flats up to Morton Bridge. The fox crossed the Swale again at the bridge, and hounds ran on by Morton Grange and Langlands, and over the Howe-beck, and past Greenhills and Low Sober, to the Low Plain Plantation at Solberge, within a couple of fields of which they ran into their fox after a good run of two hours. The point would be from seven and a half to eight miles, but hounds would run over twice the distance.
On Monday, January 8th, they met at Rudd Hall, and had another good sporting run. They found in Goskins, and ran first by Tunstall Village, pointing for Brough. Scotton Village was next reached, and then they made a wide circuit past Hawxwell Hall and Garriston. A long check took place at Garriston, and then hounds hunted through the Constable Burton coverts, and then turned to the right over Barden Moor. They hunted steadily on by Laverock Gill, and ran parallel to the Richmond Road down to Hipswell coverts, where they worked up to their fox, and they rolled him over in the open midway between the railway and the River Swale, opposite Easby Abbey, after a good hunting run of two hours and three quarters.
The Cleveland had a capital run on Monday, January 8th, when they met at Marske Station. They had a long draw, all the low coverts being blank, but they found a good fox on the historic Briar Flat in Wilton Wood, and ran him at a great pace by Dunsdale and Court Green to Guisbrough Park. Thence they ran along the brow of the hill to Osborne Rush, and skirting Jackson’s Plantation, passed Upsall, and ran by Hamilton Hills and Marton Gill, where they bore slightly to the left and hunted with a much worse scent by Grey Towers and Sunny Cross to Seamer Whin, where the fox beat them after a good run of an hour and twenty-five minutes. It was a seven-mile point, and hounds crossed a lot of country of varied kind.
Lord Galway’s had a capital day’s sport from Gringley-on-the-Hill on Monday, January 8th. Finding in Gringley Gorse, they raced over the grass to Pear Tree Farm, where the fox was headed, and crossing the Beckingham Road, ran by Clayworth Wood and Beckingham Village, and over the Great Northern Railway to Morton Point, where they turned left-handed over the railway again and ran by Walkeringham on to Mr. Naylor’s farm, where they ran him to ground in view after forty minutes at top pace. Another fox that had evidently done some work was found in Gringley Gorse, and killed after a sharp short burst on Red Hills. They found again in a patch of gorse on the banks of the River Idle, and ran by Drakeholes, nearly to Everton, and then crossed the Chesterfield Canal, took a line by Prospect Hill to Winton New Covert. Then recrossing the canal they ran by Mr. Otter’s thorns, and marked their fox to ground between Hayton and Clayworth after a good fifty minutes.
This is the time of year when changes in hunting establishments begin to be talked about, and an important change will take place in Lord Galway’s country, for Sam Morgan, who has been at Serlby for twenty-nine years, has resigned his appointment. Morgan will have been forty-one seasons with hounds at the end of this season. His first place was as extra whipper-in under his father, Jack Morgan, when the latter was huntsman for the sixth Lord Galway. He held this place for a year, and then went to the late Lord Portsmouth, with whom he stopped nine years, two as second whipper-in and seven as first whipper-in. From there he went to the Percy, then under the mastership of Major Brown, as first whipper-in, and from Northumberland he went to Serlby again. Forty-one years as a hunt servant, and only in three places during that time, is indeed an honourable record, and all hunting men will be sorry to learn that Morgan is leaving the country with which his name and the name of his family is so closely associated. I also hear that Freeman is leaving the Bedale, and rumour has it that he is going to hunt one of the Midland packs.
AMERICAN v. ENGLISH FOXHOUND MATCH.
The “Van Driver” is indebted to an American correspondent for particulars of the work done by the competing packs in this unique “match,” which took place in the Piedmont Valley, Virginia, during the first fortnight of November last. The American pack consisted of 6½ couple belonging to the Middlesex Hunt and the English of 18 couple belonging to the Grafton Hunt. The stakes were $1,000 a side, and the test was to be the killing of the fox. The English hounds were hunted on five days by Robert Cotesworth, and the Americans worked on six days hunted by the Master, Mr. H. Smith. The only kill was scored by the English pack, and as their victim proved to be a tame fox, accidentally released when the hounds were near, this did not count, and the judges had to decide the question of merit on the work they witnessed. It does not appear to have been a very satisfactory method of determining relative merit, as when scent served well either pack ran clean away from the field, “held up” by wire or by the occurrence of land on which the farmers did not desire the presence of horsemen. The number of refuges open to a hunted fox explains the lack of blood obtained; stopping earths seems to have been neglected. The judges gave their award in favour of the American hounds as having “done the best work with the object of killing the fox in view,” but English sportsmen will learn with astonishment that on two occasions when the American pack were at fault a judge lifted them and got them again on the line! Unfortunately the account sent does not give any information concerning the breeding of either pack; beyond the fact that the English were imported hounds and the American bred in the States we are left in the dark. A picture from a photograph in the Rider and Driver, showing the American pack on the kennel bench, suggests that these are pure-bred foxhounds.
THE NEW ARMY POLO COMMITTEE.
It will be remembered that at a meeting of senior Army officers held last summer at Hurlingham, it was unanimously agreed to form a new polo committee, consisting of the Inspector of Calvary (President), cavalry brigadiers, officers commanding regiments, and representatives of corps, interested in polo, and the three members of the Inter-Regimental Tournament Committee (with the Secretary to act in a similar position to the new committee). The meeting agreed that the objects of the new committee should be: (1) To deal with questions affecting principle in the management of regimental polo, especially with a view to keeping down expenses, &c. (2) To act as a consultative and authoritative body on all questions affecting Army polo. (3) To receive from regiments any suggestions, &c., regarding principle or expenditure connected with polo, &c.; and (4) to strengthen the Executive Inter-Regimental Tournament Committee, but without interfering with its management of the details of the tournament. As a result the following Committee has been formed for 1906:—
Major-General R. S. S. Baden-Powell, C.B., Inspector of Cavalry, President; Major-General H. J. Scobell, C.B., 1st Cavalry Brigade; Brigadier-General Hon. J. Byng, M.V.O., 2nd Cavalry Brigade; Brigadier-General M. F. Rimington, C.B., 3rd Cavalry Brigade; Brigadier-General E. H. Allenby, C.B., 4th Cavalry Brigade; Major-General F. J. W. Eustace, C.B., and Colonel E. J. Phipps-Hornby, V.C., representing Royal Artillery; Colonel G. F. Gorringe, C.M.G., D.S.O., representing Royal Engineers; Major-General Sir W. G. Knox, K.C.B., Major-General A. H. Paget, C.V.O., C.B., Brigadier-General E. A. Alderson, C.B., A.D.C., and Colonel A. J. Godley, Irish Guards, representing Infantry; Colonel T. C. P. Calley, C.B., M.V.O., 1st Life Guards; Colonel C. F. Anstruther-Thomson, M.V.O., D.S.O., 2nd Life Guards; Colonel H. T. Fenwick, M.V.O., D.S.O., Royal Horse Guards; Colonel S. B. Bogle-Smith, C.B., 1st Dragoon Guards; Lieutenant-Colonel H. Mercer, 3rd Dragoon Guards; Lieutenant-Colonel C. W. Thompson, D.S.O., 7th Dragoon Guards; Lieutenant-Colonel C. Williams, Royal Scots Greys; Lieutenant-Colonel H. W. G. Graham, D.S.O., 5th Lancers; Lieutenant-Colonel E. A. Herbert, M.V.O., 6th Dragoons; Lieutenant-Colonel R. L. Walter, 7th Hussars; Lieutenant-Colonel H. N. M. Thoyts, 8th Hussars; Lieutenant-Colonel W. H. Rycroft, 11th Hussars; Colonel E. D. J. O’Brien, 14th Hussars; Colonel G. P. Wyndham, 16th Lancers; Colonel P. S. Marling, V.C., C.B., 18th Hussars; Lieutenant-Colonel H. G. de Pledge, 19th Hussars; Lieutenant-Colonel W. D. Whatman, 20th Hussars; and Colonel J. Fowle, 21st Lancers. Major Lord C. Bentinck, (9th Lancers), Major G. F. Milner, D.S.O. (1st Life Guards), Major G. K. Ansell (6th Dragoons), and Major S. L. Barry, D.S.O. (10th Hussars) (Hon. Sec.), Inter-Regimental Tournament Committee.
The Committee will assemble at Hurlingham the day of, and previous to, the final of the annual Inter-Regimental Tournament.
THE M.C.C. CRICKET TEAM IN SOUTH AFRICA.
Two defeats out of the first three eleven-aside matches was a pretty bad start for Mr. Warner’s team, a batting collapse against the Transvaal being followed by a defeat by one wicket in the first so-called Test Match. One may well ask, “Why Test Match, and of what is the match supposed to be a test?” If a test of anything it is probably a test of the judgment, or rather lack of judgment, of those who selected the M.C.C. team. If the South Africans, who are paying the piper, had called this tune and asked for a nice easy team to beat, we could better apprehend the position, but we understand that the South African cricket authorities took an early opportunity of remonstrating against the unrepresentative quality of this team sent out under the Ægis of the Marylebone Club. There may be many points of resemblance between the management of the War Office and the Marylebone Club—at any-rate, they seem to have been of one mind in consistently and resolutely under-rating the strength of our opponents in South Africa.
In 1904, when a strong South African team visited this country, they modestly enough asked that they might be allowed to play just one match at the headquarters of cricket against a team representative of the strength of England.
Instead of this, the Marylebone Club put “An England XI.” into the field, and the South Africans won with great ease a victory to which they attached but little importance. This slight has been followed by this unfortunate selection of a team to represent, not the Marylebone Club, for some of the players have nothing to do with that institution, but probably the authority and wisdom of the M.C.C.; and for English cricket and for Mr. P. F. Warner—the Commander-in-chief of this at present somewhat unfortunate team—we much regret that cricketers more representative of English cricket should not have been chosen. But still more do we regret this error of judgment from the point of view of South African cricket. Here is a colony which has beaten the Australians, which has beaten most of our counties, and triumphed over “An England XI.,” at Lord’s, asking for a good England team to come out and teach her cricketers something more; and then comes this melancholy but extremely probable downfall of a moderate enough team in no way representative of English cricket.
No doubt the difficulties in the way of our best amateurs getting away for a winter’s cricket tour are very great; but if it is impossible to get a really good side to accept the hospitality of the South Africans, it would be almost better for the M.C.C. executive to confess their inability to organise a team than to send out anything second-rate.
GOLF.
The Royal Liverpool Club has come to arrangements with Lord Stanley of Alderley, for a lease of the ground at Hoylake, with the loss of which it was threatened some time ago. Considerable addition of expense is entailed upon the club, and to meet it the club subscription and other charges will have to be raised, but the result of the transaction is to preserve the round at Hoylake in its entirety, a consummation for which all golfers will feel devoutly thankful.
It is announced that the Irish Open Championship meeting will be held this year in the first week of September. Last year the experiment was tried of holding it a month earlier, but it did not succeed, and it is hoped that reverting to the old date may draw to the meeting many of the best golfers on this side of the Channel. Portrush is the place of play on this occasion.
The Cricketers’ Golfing Society has set on foot an inter-county tournament on the lines of the County Cricket Championship. The membership of the society is confined to members of first and second class county cricket teams and to University Blues, and it will furnish the teams for the golf tournament.
Teams representing the Stock Exchange and the Dramatic Profession in London engaged in a competition on the links of the Burnham Beeches Club, the former winning by 8¾ against 5½ points.
The Earl of Dudley has decided to give a Challenge Cup for competition each year among members of the two clubs which play on the links at Dollymount and Portmarnock. This cup is intended as a souvenir of the Lord Lieutenancy of Ireland of Lord Dudley.
THE WINTER EXHIBITION AT BURLINGTON HOUSE.
The thirty-seventh Winter Exhibition of the Royal Academy opened on New Year’s Day, consisting this year of a very excellent and representative collection of works by the old masters and deceased masters of the British School. The exhibition is particularly strong in paintings by Reynolds, Gainsborough, Romney, and Turner; and among more recent painters represented are admirable examples of Millais and Burne-Jones. Sporting and animal subjects are not very numerous on the walls. Attention may be drawn to J. F. Herring’s “Return from Deer-stalking” (No. 40); to Sir Edwin Landseer’s “The Catspaw” (No. 50), which, it will be remembered, furnished the late Sir John Tenniel with a text for one of his cleverest Punch cartoons; and to Ralph Caldecott’s animated “Hunting Scenes” (Nos. 240 and 243); “Rabbiting near Cromer” (No. 51), by James Stark, deserves notice, and so does James Ward’s spirited picture of “The Hetman Platoff on the charger which he afterwards gave to Hugh, Earl Percy” (No. 67). The charger, a grey Arab, is a singularly fine piece of work, though it may be objected that no horse, even an Arab, possesses eyes so large as those in the head of this otherwise perfectly drawn animal. The Arabs or Barbs in J. F. Lewis’s “Study of Horses” (No. 246) are well worth close examination as masterpieces of equine anatomy.
PELOTA AT THE WINTER CLUB.
Those who have organised the new club at Olympia have left no stone unturned to provide for the increasing demand for all kinds of games during the winter months. There is something very novel in seeing football played under cover upon the huge grass carpet, provided, we understand, at a cost of some five thousand pounds, and covering the entire floor of the building. There are four or five squash racquet courts, twice as many billiard tables, a rifle range, and sufficient space for several games at croquet. But the attraction which will probably draw many visitors to Olympia is the game of Pelota, the national game of Spain, now played for the first time in England by six pelotari, drawn from the professional champions from the Basque country. The game is played on a cement court eighty yards long, by fifty broad, with a front wall, but no side or back walls, though in Spain we believe that some of the best courts have back walls. It is of the same nature as racquets, only the ball—a rubber-cored ball of the size between a base-ball and a fives-ball—is slung by the players against the front wall after being caught in a sickle-shaped basket-work scoop, resembling more than anything else the semi-circular mud-guards held over the wheels of carriages to prevent the soiling of ladies’ dresses. This scoop or chirista is about two feet long, and the dexterity with which the players catch the ball in it, whether it comes straight to them or they have to take it back-handed or on the half volley, is little short of marvellous; the pace of the ball from the back-handed swing is simply terrific, and when it is remembered that the line above which the ball must strike the front wall is of much the same height as that in an ordinary racquet court, it can easily be realised that the server and the front players, who are constantly under fire from the slingers at the back, require a skill which can only be acquired by life-long habit not merely to take their part in the game, but to avoid being seriously injured.
FANCY DRESS BALLS AT COVENT GARDEN.
The fortnightly masquerades at the Royal Opera House are more popular than ever with light-hearted Londoners. Now that the autumn season of opera is over, the whole of the large house is available for the accommodation of the merry throng of dancers who flock to Covent Garden on alternate Fridays, and the additional space afforded by the stage and its surrounding area is beautified by scenery from the near East. The competition for the prizes for the best and most original dresses is apparently more keen than ever, and the march past of competitors is certainly one of the sights of London.
“CINDERELLA” AT THE EMPIRE.
The name of Cinderella certainly is just about now one to conjure with. The phenomenally successful “Catch of the Season” is none other than our old friend in modern dress; at Drury Lane the most attractive pantomime is “Cinderella,” and now the management of the Empire have produced a beautiful ballet in five scenes, which present for more than an hour twice a day a series of some of the most beautiful and striking effects that have been seen for many a long day.
The one and only Mademoiselle Adeline GÊnÉe is the most delightful and dainty Cinderella, and of all her artistic triumphs she has enjoyed none greater than the present, and she is well supported by Mademoiselle Zanfretta as the fairy godmother, Mr. W. Vokes as the dÉcavÉ Baron, and Mr. Fred Farren as the Baroness. “Cinderella,” produced as a matinÉe on January 6th, speedily found herself in the evening bill as well as in daily matinÉes.
The revue “Rogues and Vagabonds” has proved a great attraction, thanks to the extremely clever mimicry of Mr. Arthur Playfair and Miss Marie Dainton, and the performance of Miss Sibyl Arundale as Harlequin. Miss Arundale has a genius which seems to be incapable of being misplaced, and whether she play “Lady Molly,” “Nanoya, the Cingalee,” “The Gipsy Girl,” or Harlequin, she is invariably a great artist.
With the revue written up to date, there seems no reason why it should not remain a prominent feature of the Empire programme for a long time to come.
The Barber-Ritchie cycling trio is one of the cleverest turns at the Empire, and certainly it seems unlikely that proficiency in cycling can well reach a much higher development than this. Unless our memory fails us, we were thrilled some months ago by seeing Mr. Barber loop the loop on the Empire stage, and Mr. Ritchie is, we hope, none other than our old friend the Tramp Cyclist, whose grotesque disasters and stock of superfluous collars caused us so much merriment a little time ago. We hope that the Barber-Ritchie combination will be visible in London for some long time to come.
BALLET AT THE ALHAMBRA.
The grand ballet “Parisiana” now holds the stage at the Alhambra, and a very magnificent show it is, with its variety of kaleidoscopic scenes ranging from 1760 down to 1906. The chief scenes are by Menessier, representing “Grand Magasins du Printemps,” with a ballet of peignoirs, parfumerie, corsages, and so on, and the final scene, “La FÊte de Neuilly,” which is a fine spectacle.
Mademoiselle Jane May, the pantomimic success of “L’Enfant Prodigue,” is to be found playing a silently voluble Pierrot and gamin, and perhaps there is almost too much of her performance, as the pantomime appears rather to check the action of the ballet. La Sylphe executes some of her characteristic dances, and the entire setting of the production is very beautiful. “My Lady Nicotine” still holds its place in the programme of the Alhambra, in which also La Sylphe and Miss Edith Slacke are to be seen. The other items of the programme are good, but almost too fleeting for us to mention in a monthly notice, although “Urbanora,” or “We put the world before you,” is always with us, and very amusing indeed are the pictures of “Dolly Land” and “Noah’s Ark.”
We have received from Messrs. Lawrence and Jellicoe, Limited, 16, Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, W.C., a set of four coloured drawings by Mr. Leonard Ravenhill, entitled “Bridge Problems.” The drawings, which are published by special arrangement with the proprietors of Punch, depict the humorous side of the game, the expressions of the players’ faces being particularly well portrayed. The set of four signed proofs can be had from the publishers at four guineas, the price of a set of prints being one and a half guineas.
Such elementary ideas as to the correct management of foxhound puppies as those possessed by many by whom the youngsters are walked must have frequently given cause for anxiety to the Master and his kennel huntsman, who have entrusted their charges to the tender mercies of the walkers. Often a few hints are all that are needed to enable the well-meaning but inexperienced walker to provide against the mishaps to which puppies are peculiarly liable. These hints are supplied in a leaflet by an M.F.H., which gives instructions on walking hound puppies, and which is being sold for the benefit of the fowl fund of an Irish hunt by Lady Coghill, Glen Barrahane, Castletownshend, co. Cork, at 2d. each, or 1s. 6d. per dozen. Directions as to food, lodging, manners, and illness are briefly given, which, if intelligently followed, will prevent avoidable illness, which so often ends the career of a promising puppy, and will make the huntsman’s task of training them far easier than is often the case when the puppies have contracted riotous habits while at walk.
Sporting Intelligence.
[During December, 1905—January, 1906.]
On December 16th, Sir C. Courtenay Knollys, K.C.M.G., Governor of the Leeward Islands, died at Southsea. The deceased was in his college days a very fine sculler, and in 1872 won the Diamond Sculls. In the following year he rowed in the Oxford crew at Putney.
There was an interesting function in connection with the meet of the Sinnington Hounds at Douthwaite Dale, Kirby Moorside, on December 16th. This was the presentation to the late Master, Mr. Sherbrooke, and Mrs. Sherbrooke, of a large oil painting, representing Mr. and Mrs. Sherbrooke, mounted, with hounds, in charge of Mr. Robin Hill, breaking cover at Riseborough Haggs. The presentation was made by Lord Helmsley, who followed Mr. Sherbrooke in the mastership of the pack, and who paid a warm compliment to the manner in which hounds had been hunted during the ten years Mr. Sherbrooke had held the mastership. In his reply, Mr. Sherbrooke spoke with deep satisfaction of the host of valuable friends he and his wife had made during the time hounds were under his care.
We have to record the death of Captain Hugh Browning, of Clapham Park, Bedford, which occurred on December 18th, in his sixty-seventh year. Captain Browning was Master of the Oakley Foxhounds from 1888 to 1897, and showed consistently good sport with the pack.
We regret to record a nasty accident to Lord Chesham, which occurred while out with the Pytchley Hounds on December 20th, and resulted in three fractured ribs, through his horse falling in jumping a fence.
At the meet of the Earl of Eglinton’s Hounds on December 23rd there was a pleasing incident, when Mr. and Mrs. William Baird, of High Balsarroch, were the recipients of a presentation from the members and subscribers of the Hunt on the occasion of the sixtieth anniversary of their marriage. The presentation was made on behalf of the subscribers by Lord Eglinton, and consisted of a piece of plate and a purse of sovereigns. His lordship alluded to the assistance Mr. and Mrs. Baird and their family had rendered to the Hunt during their long residence in the country. They have been at High Balsarroch for twenty-six years, and occupied the neighbouring farm of Mount Fergusson for thirty years previously.
Mr. William Hanway, of Laragh, near Maynooth, died from heart failure on December 24th, in his seventy-first year. Mr. Hanway, who was a well-known rider across country and at the Kildare and Punchestown meetings, rode at the latter in April last, and was out with the Kildare Hunt the day before his decease.
A banquet was given at the Blue Bell Hotel, Belford, on December 28th, to Mr. Richard Burdon-Sanderson, who relinquished his pack of foxhounds last season after a long period of office, when a testimonial was given. The presentation took the form of a dessert service of old silver, and there was also given to Mr. James A. H. Burdon-Sanderson a silver tea-tray in recognition of his valuable services as deputy master of his brother’s foxhounds. The presentations were made in the presence of a large company by the Duke of Northumberland.
At the early age of fifty-one years, Mr. Clervaux Morley Saunders, of Bovicott, Devon, died at his residence on December 28th. Mr. Saunders was well known in the West country as a keen sportsman, and only a few years ago formed and hunted the Bovicott Otterhounds. He was also a breeder of horses, a member of the Council of the Polo Society, and a good supporter of agriculture.
While hunting with the Whaddon Chase Hounds on December 30th, the Countess of Orkney was thrown from her horse and sustained concussion of the brain.
On January 4th there died at Tissington Park, Derbyshire, the Rev. Sir Richard Fitzherbert, Bart., who was in his day a fine athlete and horseman. In the sixties the deceased gentleman represented Cambridge against Oxford at the hurdle race, and he was always a very good man across a country.
While out with the Duke of Buccleuch’s Hounds on January 6th, Mr. John Clay, of Chicago, who is hunting from Sunlaws, Kelso, had the bad luck to break his collar-bone.
Will Thompson, huntsman to Lord Fitzhardinge’s Hounds, sustained a bad fall on January 6th, through his horse swerving and coming down at a gate.
On January 6th, the Hon. Ivor Guest sold Pat 350 gs., Cotton 200 gs., Rarity 350 gs.; Captain the Hon. F. Guest’s Ireland made 200 gs., Spade Ace 280 gs., Scotchman 150 gs., Limerick 200 gs.; the Earl of Lonsdale’s Wallaby 300 gs., Fairy Saint 120 gs.; the Hon. Gilbert Johnstone’s St. Patrick 140 gs., Clansman 100 gs., and Call Boy 110 gs.
The Bedale Hunt has lost a prominent member in Mr. R. Hutton-Squire, who died suddenly at his residence, Holtby Hall, Bedale, on January 10th.
The skeleton of Ormonde has been received in England, to be added to the relics of the many other famous British racehorses now reposing at the Natural History Museum. Mr. Macdonough, his owner, having generously acceded to a request of the British Museum that his remains should be sent to this country to be preserved in the national repository of his native land. The skeleton will, it is understood, soon be exhibited to the public in the Gallery of Domesticated Animals.
A really comfortable general purpose glove, adapted equally well for use when hunting, driving, riding, or walking is a very desirable article to possess. The “Pytchley Hunt” glove would almost appear to fill the requirement. Manufactured of tan cape, specially cut, hand sewn, with Bolton thumb, it is claimed for it to be the best all-round glove upon the market. One feature is the fastening, a single button, which is on the reverse side to the ordinary use and undue pressure upon the wrist is prevented by this arrangement. The glove is one of the specialities of the Barnard Glove Depot, 52 and 53, Cheapside, London, E.C.
We regret to record the death of Mr. W. N. Heysham, the Honorary Auditor of the Hunt Servants’ Benefit Society. Mr. Heysham was one of the originators of this Society, and from its conception was one of the most energetic workers on its behalf. Mr. Heysham was an old contributor to Baily.
Last year the only stallions to be represented by two-year-old winners alone, according to Horse and Hound, were Balsamo, £475; Benvenuto, £100; Bertie, £547; Catch the Wind, £141; Damocles, £826; Diamond Jubilee, £3,999; Diplomat, £973; Elopement, £100; Grebe, £424; King’s Messenger, £1,246; Mackintosh, £395; Galashiels, £2,723; General Peace, £292; Glencally, £200; Ninus, £196; Spook, £276; Tom Cringle, £195.
The bay horse, Pietermaritzburg, foaled 1898 by St. Simon—Sea Air, by Isonomy, has been sold by Mr. George Faber to go to the Argentine for £16,000. As a four-year-old he won the Jockey Club Stakes.
The sales of hunters during the past few weeks include Colonel Grenfell’s Rogers 200 gs., Gimlet 175 gs.; Mr. Austin Carr’s Electric and Duchess 135 gs. each; The Slave 120 gs., Favourite 100 gs.; Mrs. Barclay’s bay gelding 160 gs.; Colonel Malcolm Little’s, C.B., Kuroki, 300 gs.; Mr. Charles Jenkinson’s Mars 160 gs., Ladybird 180 gs., Ginger 130 gs., and Rattle 135 gs.
A celebrated oarsman lately passed away in Mr. H. W. Schreiber, of Trinity Hall, President of the C.U.B.C. in 1855. In that year the long “Crimean” frost, which did not break up till February 24th, and which left Father Thames full of ice-floes for much later, effectually preventing any Putney matches being brought off. But by consent the two U.B.C.’s met in the Grand Challenge Cup at the ensuing Henley Regatta, and Cambridge won somewhat easily. Mr. Schreiber on that occasion, says the Field of December 23rd, rowed No. 3 at 11st. 5lb. In the following year he was expected to take an oar in the Cambridge Putney crew, but was prevented from doing so by reason of examinations.
TURF.
| WINDSOR DECEMBER. | |||
| December 19th.—Clewer Handicap Steeplechase of 150 sovs.; three miles. | |||
| Mr. J. Carlin’s b. g. MacSweeny, 6 yrs., 10st. 8lb. | W. Morgan | 1 | |
| Mr. C. E. Byrne’s ch. m. Strategy, 6 yrs., 11st. | Mr. Cullen | 2 | |
| Mr. F. R. Hunt’s b. g. Sweetmore, aged, 10st. | W. Taylor | 3 | |
| 5 to 1 agst. MacSweeny. | |||
| December 20th.—The December Handicap Hurdle Race of 150 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. T. Clyde’s br. c. Sachem, 4 yrs., 11st. 12lb. | J. O’Brien | 1 | |
| Mr. A. Gorham’s br. g. San Terenzo, 5 yrs., 10st. 11lb. | T. Fitton | 2 | |
| Mr. J. Bancroft’s b. h. Exhilaration, 5 yrs., 10st. 13lb. | T. Dunn | 3 | |
| 2 to 1 agst. Sachem. | |||
| KEMPTON PARK. | |||
| December 26th.—The Christmas Hurdle Handicap of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. H. Heasman’s br. h. Stephanas, by St. Serf—Lucky Lady, 5 yrs., 12st. 7lb. | T. Fitton | 1 | |
| Sir S. Scott’s b. g. Series, 5 yrs., 10st. 12lb. | H. Aylin | 2 | |
| Col. R. L. Birkin’s b. c. Baron Crofton, 4 yrs., 11st. 11lb. | Mr. Payne | 3 | |
| 4 to 1 agst. Stephanas. | |||
| December 27th.—The Sunbury Steeplechase Handicap of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. B. W. Parr’s b. g. Orange Field, by Winkfield—Orange, 6 yrs., 10st. 9lb. | M. Lowe | 1 | |
| Mr. R. Courage’s b. g. World’s Desire, 4 yrs., 12st. | T. Dunn | 2 | |
| Mr. S. Jousiffe’s ch. f. Red Mantle, 4 yrs., 10st. 8lb. | F. Freemantle | 3 | |
| 5 to 2 agst. Orange Field. | |||
| MANCHESTER. | |||
| January 1st.—The New Year Handicap Hurdle Race of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. G. Menzies’ b. h. Donatello, 6 yrs., 11st. 3lb. | S. Menzies | 1 | |
| Mr. S. J. Bell’s ch. m. Cheriton Belle, 6yrs., 11st. 10lb. | G. Williamson | 2 | |
| Sir Peter Walker’s b. g. Aultbea, 6 yrs., 10st. 11lb. | E. Sullivan | 3 | |
| 13 to 8 agst. Donatello. | |||
| January 2nd.—The Manchester Handicap Steeplechase of 200 sovs.; three miles. | |||
| Mr. John Widger’s ch. g. Royal Bow II., 5 yrs., 11st. 7lb. | Mr. T. Widger | 1 | |
| Mr. J. E. Rogerson’s b. g. Wee Busbie, aged, 10st. 11lb. | D. Phelan | 2 | |
| Mr. C. T. Garland’s br. g. Questionable, 6 yrs., 10st. 11lb. | F. Mason | 3 | |
| 11 to 8 on Royal Bow II. | |||
| WINDSOR. | |||
| January 5th.—The Eton Handicap Hurdle Race of 150 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. J. S. Morrison’s b. g. John M.P., aged, 12st. 7lb. | W. Terrell | 1 | |
| Sir S. Scott’s b. g. Series, 6 yrs., 10st. 12lb. | H. Aylin | 2 | |
| Sir H. Randall’s b. or br. c. Frisky Bill | J. Dillon | 3 | |
| 100 to 1 agst. John M.P. | |||
| January 6th.—The Castle Handicap of 150 sovs.; three miles. | |||
| Mr. G. Johnson’s b. h. Gladiator, 6 yrs., 11st. 3lb. | E. Driscoll | 1 | |
| Mr. C. T. Garland’s br. g. Questionable, 6 yrs., 11st. 4lb. | F. Mason | 2 | |
| Mr. T. Tyler’s br. g. Trueman, aged, 11st. 2lb. | W. Morgan | 3 | |
| 15 to 8 agst. Gladiator. | |||
| BIRMINGHAM. | |||
| January 9th.—The Grand Annual Handicap Steeplechase of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. J. G. Houghton’s b. g. Desert Chief, aged, 12st. 12lb. | Mr. Fergusson | 1 | |
| Lord Coventry’s b. g. Kepler, 6 yrs., 10st. | Mr. W. Bulteel | 2 | |
| Mr. P. Gleeson’s b. h. Lord of the Level, 6 yrs., 11st. 4lb. | F. Mason | 3 | |
| 5 to 4 on Desert Chief. | |||
| HAYDOCK PARK. | |||
| January 11th.—The Haydock Park Handicap Steeplechase of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Sir Peter Walker’s ch. g. Flutterer, aged, 12st. 7lb. | E. Sullivan | 1 | |
| Mr. C. W. C. Henderson’s b. m. Ashton, aged, 10st. 11lb. | J. Seymour | 2 | |
| Mr. J. E. Rogerson’s b. g. Wee Busbie, aged, 11st. 8lb. | D. Phelan | 3 | |
| 10 to 1 agst. Flutterer. | |||
FOOTBALL.
December 16th.—At Birkenhead, North v. South, latter won by 16 points to 10.*
December 16th.—At Inverleith, Edinburgh Wanderers v. Cambridge University, latter won by 21 points to 6.*
December 21st.—At Swansea, Glamorgan v. New Zealand, latter won by 3 tries to 0.*
December 26th.—At Cardiff, Cardiff v. New Zealand, latter won by 2 goals to 1 goal 1 try.*
December 28th.—At Everton, Northern Nomads v. Corinthians, latter won by 4 goals to 3.†
December 30th.—At Swansea, Swansea v. New Zealand, latter won by 4 points to 3.*
December 30th.—At Blackheath, Blackheath v. Marlborough Nomads, former won by 2 goals 2 tries to 1 goal 1 try.*
January 1st.—At Glasgow, Queen’s Park v. Corinthians, latter won by 2 goals to 1.†
January 1st.—At Paris, France v. New Zealand, latter won by 38 points to 8.*
January 6th.—At Upton, Casuals v. Clapton, latter won by 2 goals to 1.†
January 6th.—At Richmond, London Scottish v. United Services, former won by 27 points to 5.*
January 6th.—At Leyton, Casuals v. Belgian Association, former won by 12 goals to 0.†
January 6th.—At Richmond, Richmond v. Marlborough Nomads, former won by 1 goal to 0.*
January 8th.—At Fulham, Amateurs v. Professionals, latter won by 1 goal to 0.†
January 13th.—At Richmond, England v. Wales, latter won by 15 points to 3.*
Early Carriages and Roads
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Young Race Horses—suggestions
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Horses Past and Present
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Poultry Keeping on Farms and Small Holdings
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Animal Painters of England
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Life of George Stubbs, R.A.
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SPALDING PHOTO. HOWARD & JONES, COLL.
