  CONTENTS.
Mr. Edward Mashiter, M.F.H.Mr. Edward Mashiter, better known in Essex under his old name of Helme, was born in 1842, and was entered to hounds at the age of eight in Thoby Wood in the Essex country, during the mastership of Mr. Henley Greaves. His love of hunting, which is as keen now as in his youth, is inherited from his father, Mr. Thomas Helme, who hunted for many years in Essex, residing at Thoby Priory. Mr. Mashiter was educated at Winchester, settled down in Essex in 1861, and from that time to the present has hunted with the Essex and the Essex Union Hounds. He became Secretary to the Essex Union Hunt in 1878, and held that office during Mr. White’s, Captain Carnegy’s, and part of Captain Kemble’s masterships. On resigning the secretaryship in 1891, he was presented with a testimonial, consisting of silver candelabra, by the members of the Hunt. Mr. Mashiter resided at Hornchurch Lodge, his father’s place, from 1867 until 1890, subsequently living a few years at Hou Hatch, Brentwood, and in 1898 became Master of the Essex Union Hounds, in succession to Colonel Hornby, and has continued Master to the present time. In the ’seventies Mr. Mashiter twice narrowly escaped losing his life in the hunting field. Whilst hunting with the York and Ainsty Hounds, during the mastership of Colonel Fairfax, his horse was carried off his legs when crossing a ford of the River Nid, near Kirk-Hammerton, with the result that Mr. Mashiter had to swim across the river, but got safely out with a ducking. Some years afterwards, when hunting with the South and West Wilts, of which his cousin, the late Captain Burchall Helme, was then Master, a collision with a runaway horse in the village of Tisbury gave him a fall which knocked him out of time. The runaway broke its shoulder in two places and had to be destroyed. Mr. Mashiter assumed the name of Mashiter instead of Helme in 1899 in accordance with the will of his great-uncle, Mr. Thomas Mashiter, of Hornchurch Lodge. On undertaking the mastership of the Essex Union Hounds Mr. Mashiter put on Arthur Thatcher, who had been the first whipper-in to Mr. Fernie for several seasons, as huntsman, and very good sport Thatcher showed. He left the Essex Union after two seasons to go as huntsman to the Cottesmore, where he has made his mark as one of the best huntsmen of the day. George Tongue, from the Blankney, succeeded Thatcher and has given very great satisfaction in every way. Mr. Mashiter is a magistrate for Essex. He has also been a director of the well-known Romford Brewery for many years, but has ceased to take an active part in business since he became Master of the Hounds. He married, in 1867, Augusta, who died in 1895, eldest daughter of the Rev. Henry Annesley Hawkins, of Topcliffe, Yorks, and a niece of the late Captain Cooper, known as “Billy Cooper,” well known in the coaching world as one of the best amateur whips in England. Mr. Mashiter now resides at Gatwick, near Billericay, in order to be near the kennels. Distemper in Hounds.OPINIONS OF MASTERS OF HOUNDS. With the view of collecting information on the subject of distemper, we addressed enquiries to the masters of a number of those hunts in whose kennels last season the disease took an unusually serious form, and also to masters whose kennels had escaped lightly. The replies received are exceedingly full and informing; and as the views of the writers cannot fail to be of interest, we propose in the following pages to set out a selection of opinions collected. It will be convenient to give the letters in the alphabetical sequence of the writers’ names. Mr. E. E. Barclay, master of the Puckeridge, whose kennels sustained very serious losses in 1904–5, writes:— “Distemper is like ‘scent,’ the more one sees of it the less one knows about it. All I do know is that it is a terribly fatal disease amongst hounds of all sorts, and in my experience almost invariably seems to pick out and kill the strongest and best of one’s entry. I have kept hounds (harriers and foxhounds) now for twenty-eight years, and have always bred a good many young hounds, so necessarily have seen a good deal, in fact, far too much, of distemper, and have now come to the conclusion that physic of any sort has very little to do with getting a hound through an attack. The only thing one can do is to keep them warm; don’t let the temperature of the hospital fall below 60° during the twenty-four hours, with plenty of fresh air but no draughts, and nurse them very carefully, feeding them a little at the time and often. Keep them clean, often sponging their eyes, nose, and lips with disinfectant to keep the offensive discharge, which usually accompanies bad cases, from getting caked. “In the form that attacks their heads with twitching and blindness, setons in the back of the neck often help. In the more fatal lung cases with pneumonia, applications of mustard to the chest and sides is the only thing that may do good, but this form often turns to double pneumonia and the patients die in a few hours. In some cases distemper seems to turn to blood poisoning, attacking especially the feet, so that the feet almost rot away. “I have found that those hounds that have frequent fits seldom recover, and if by chance they do pull round they are generally left with ‘snatches’ or chorea. Strychnine will often help ‘snatches’ at first, but if a hound has got them badly he seldom gets much better of them, though he may recover from the distemper itself. “I only remember two summers when we did not have distemper badly in kennel, but in both these years the young hounds went down with it badly in the middle of December and we lost several, just when they were in hard work; and of course those that recovered were of little use for that hunting season. “A medical friend was telling me one day of the way they now treat bad cases of pneumonia by putting the patient into an iced bath. This is done, of course, to get the temperature down, for what so often kills in cases of pneumonia is the collapse of the heart owing to high fever. Just at this time I had a very nice young dog-hound, who had been ill with distemper for a long time; it turned to pneumonia and he was ‘blowing’ like a grampus. He had a temperature of 105°, “That hound did well for the next ten days, and we quite thought we had saved him when he suddenly died of heart failure. I own this experiment was not a success entirely, but here we had a case of very bad pneumonia in which the patient after a long illness was at the point of death, who through our success in getting his temperature down and completely stopping the ‘blowing,’ lived on and did well for ten days. I firmly believe if his strength had not been undermined by a long spell of illness before we tried the experiment that he would have recovered. “I have tried all the so-called ‘cures’ for distemper, both old receipts and new, in the form of balls, powders, and liquid, and have come to the conclusion that they have little to do with a hound’s recovery. “You use someone’s ‘Distemper Balls’ one year when you happen to have a mild run of the disease, and having very few fatal cases that year, you at once think it is this wonderful ball that has cured them! “Next year you use the same ‘cure’ and your young hounds die like flies. I notice that puppies at walk often get what seems to be distemper and get over it, but when they come in down they go with the kennel distemper and they die. “We always keep going in the hospital one or more Cresoline lamps, such as are sold at chemists, for burning in rooms of children suffering from whooping cough; this, I am sure, helps the lung and throat cases, and at any rate is a good disinfectant and can do no harm. I am now erecting, detached from the rest of the kennel buildings, a large brick hospital with a range of hot water pipes round three sides of the room, with Tobin ventilators to admit fresh air without creating a draught, and a good-sized lantern skylight in the roof to let out the foul air; and hope this may help us to nurse a larger proportion of distempered hounds through their trouble. “It is a curious fact, but I have constantly observed that when, as there often are, among the lot ‘down’ with the disease, a young hound or two which, by reason of size or some other cause, are useless, and for that reason get no extra attention and no physic; these pull through without difficulty, whilst the pick of the entry, with every care bestowed upon them, die off wholesale. I am quite sure the distemper one gets in hound-kennels is quite different from that which the ordinary cur dog gets. “I have tried carefully for two seasons Dr. Physallix’s inoculation serum, under two different veterinary surgeons, both clever men; but all to no purpose, the mortality being quite as high in the inoculated cases as in the whelps that had not been inoculated.” Mr. Barclay holds that the subject of distemper is one that should receive the special attention of the M.F.H. Association, that it should be taken up in earnest and researches pursued systematically. Mr. Assheton Biddulph (King’s County) holds that the strictest care and cleanliness in the kennel do much to minimise the consequences of an attack of distemper. In his kennels a very thorough system of cleaning and ventilation, combined with very free use of disinfectants, is enforced. The kennels are washed carefully and often with disinfectants, and are subjected to a weekly purification with chloride of lime, which is spread about under the benches; moreover, they are washed out at intervals daily with some carbolic fluid. “For several years,” says Mr. Biddulph, “I had no distemper in my kennels, from the time I began to follow the system above mentioned; and I feel convinced that it was neglect and the omission to carry out my orders that caused a sore visitation of it some five years ago. Since then I have had years without suffering an attack at all, and when the disease has appeared it has been in the mildest form.” Mr. Biddulph attributes the immunity from illness enjoyed by his horses to similar precautions. Mr. A. Scott Browne, who reported last summer that distemper appeared in the worst form known in twenty-five years’ experience, states that the disease took the form of septic pneumonia; hounds attacked often died before they lost condition, sometimes within thirty-six hours of the first symptoms of illness appearing. Most of those that succumbed had been inoculated with the serum tried by Mr. Barclay, “but,” adds Mr. Scott Browne, drily, “I have no reason to suppose, from a previous experiment, that this caused them to contract the disease in a more virulent form.” Mr. T. Butt Miller (V.W.H., Cricklade) is unable to express any opinion; his experience is representative of the mysterious and fitful character of the disease. In 1904–5 he was very fortunate in escaping lightly. This year he has had it very badly, not only among the puppies at walk, but also among the young hounds that were entered this season. Captain H. A. Cartwright (Wilton), writes as follows in explanation of the comparative immunity his hounds enjoyed in 1905:— “I believe my walks on these Wiltshire Downs are very healthy, and being few, we only breed from the very best bitches likely to produce vigorous offspring, and do not breed from inferior bitches on the chance of getting something good or having a draft to sell. We are, however, handicapped by the necessity for confining the bitches in whelp, and with whelps, to the paddock, as it is near a big game preserve; and although I have a couple of bitches at a time on my own farm here, it is dangerous, owing to the prevalence of poison. “As regards treatment, Sweetman, my huntsman, relies more on nourishment than physic, and allows the sick puppies no water. We lose more by yellows than distemper.” Mr. A. W. Hall Dare (Wexford), believes that all hounds must have the disease some time in their lives; he has found that a really bad attack always leaves some weakness. Most cures are useful in some cases, according to his experience, but none are infallible. Mr. Henry Hawkins, whose harriers suffered severely last spring, attributes the numerous deaths among his puppies chiefly to the fact that there was a continuous and cold east wind blowing at the time of the mortality. Mr. M. L. W. Lloyd-Price, who has kept hounds for sixteen years, and a great many other dogs for over thirty years, having usually reared from twenty to thirty couples of whelps annually, writes as follows:— “I have taken great pains to try to discover everything I could re distemper. I can give you no fresh idea for prevention of the malady. I have been, I may say, very lucky with regard to it, only getting it on an average bi-annually, and losing on an average only 10 per cent. Of this fact I feel confident, that the disease is not so bad among hounds in Wales as in England; possibly English hounds are higher bred, and that may be to some extent a reason. Also, I believe, hounds in Wales are more roughly brought up at their walks than in England, and allowed more liberty. This may be a reason also, although, as the farmer’s sheep-dogs get it very severely and many succumb, this is doubtful. I have been much troubled by kennel lameness, and a prevention for this would be more valuable to me even than one for distemper.” Mr. R. W. McKergow (Southdown) writes: “In answer to your letter of yesterday, I cannot give any definite reason as to why we lost so many young hounds at walk in 1904–5. I think we had too many in some of the villages, and when the distemper broke out the whelps infected each other. We found that puppies at walk in more isolated districts stood a much better chance of recovery. I may add that this year we have chosen our ‘walks’ rather more carefully, and I believe we shall have a much better return. We sent out about fifty couple last year, and have, I believe, about thirty-two or thirty-three couple standing up and doing well. I may add that motor-cars were responsible for the death of some three couples last year, and during the last few months we have lost a further couple and a half from the same cause.” Colonel A. C. Newland (Tivyside) says that although he lost only one hound last season the whole of the young entry suffered from distemper, and badly, too, in several cases. He continues: “I can only attribute our being fortunate enough to lose but one to the fact that every care was taken from the moment distemper showed in a hound to feed it up as much as possible, port wine, eggs, and beef tea being administered if necessary.” Mr. A. L. Ormrod (Aspull Harriers), in course of an interesting letter, says: “Two or three of the puppies that came in from walk in the spring of 1905, so far as I can tell, have not suffered at all from distemper. The change of food and general conditions of living on first coming into kennel is always a trying period for puppies, and any inherent weakness in their constitution is likely to make itself manifest then. I should be interested to know how the proportion of hounds received back into kennels from puppy walkers compares with the experiences of breeders of other classes of hounds or dogs, such as greyhounds, sporting dogs, or even terriers.” Mrs. Pryse Rice, who last summer was happy in her ability to report “no losses, nor have there been any for a number of years,” writes: “I regret to say I know of no prevention for distemper. All our hounds have it either at walk or when they come in to kennel. In the last ten years we have sent out to walk 115 couples, and the total losses, as returned in our puppy register, by distemper, have been two hounds in kennel (when we had it in a very bad form), and one of the whelps now out at walk. This year I think we have had distemper in its very worst form, not only having the puppies at walk down with it, but also the whole of the entry taken ill within three days of one another in the middle of the hunting season. Of the former we have lost the one previously mentioned; of the latter the greater part are now hunting again, and the others will be out in a few days. I think the small losses we have are, in the case of the whelps at walk, due to the very great interest taken in the puppies by the walkers, who, immediately a puppy seems out of sorts, report to the kennels, and on learning what to do take every possible means to save it. The reason we lose so few in kennel is, I think, due to the fact that neither we nor our men neglect the slightest symptoms of distemper in a hound that has not had it, and even though it appears to be but a slight cold, give at once a distemper powder. The cure for distemper I would sum up in a few words—good nursing, plenty of fresh milk, and use of Heald’s distemper powders immediately the slightest symptoms declare themselves.” Mr. E. P. Rawnsley (Southwold) writes: “My losses of last season were not serious, because, instead of losing the best hounds, the worst died, though all had it. In the Southwold kennel we never fail to have the disease badly, though I have tried every sort of prevention and cure. My own idea is that it is almost an inevitable complaint, but if hounds could be separated, only a couple being put together, and one experienced man was told off to each four couple to nurse them night and day, with special cooking for them and the use of every modern antiseptic treatment, very few would die; the amount of room required and the expense entailed would be enormous, as thirty couple or more may be all down with it.” Mr. Thomas Robson (North Tyne) attributes the virulence of the disease to the kennels. “Although,” he says, “we had no loss when the puppies were at walk, I lost some after they came in—in fact, this place seems fatal. I have lost as many as nine puppies in a fortnight, the only survivor being a collie which lay outside in a straw stack and got no attention whatever, while the other patients were coddled and got every attention; these, however, were younger than the collie. I lost seven greyhounds out of nine in October, and it is only an odd terrier I am able to rear here. I have known a tame fox die at the same time as terrier and foxhound puppies.” Mr. H. W. Selby Lowndes (East Kent) writes: “There is no doubt that distemper is contagious. It assumes different forms at different periods. I consider that there is a difference in dogs as regards their susceptibility. It is noticeable that mongrels and hardy dogs will escape, while pure-bred dogs of a valuable breed are most susceptible.... As a rule, dogs have distemper but once, but I understand cases are known of dogs having it three and even four times. There are several forms of the disease. (1) That which is accompanied by a nasty husky cough, sneezing, increase of pulse, and temperature irregular; sickness is an early symptom, the animal soon wastes away, and there is a discharge of muco-purulent matter, and weeping from the eyes. (2) This form takes the shape of fits, and is most fatal. (3) The hepatic form, in which the leading features are yellowness of the skin and visible mucous membrane, constipation, hard and colourless fÆces, urine deeply coloured, with little wasting, no cough, but symptoms of fever. “As regards management, the following are the methods adopted in my kennel, which are fairly healthy. I have a grass yard and lodging which was used for many years for young hounds that came in from walk. During the first two years of my mastership, when the young hounds used the grass yard, distemper broke out very badly, and I lost a great many. Since then young hounds have not used the yard, and have been kept, as far as possible, on entirely fresh ground each year. They are kept in an ordinary kennel and flagged yard, but have any amount of liberty and exercise, and are taken where they can eat fresh grass, the natural physic of dogs. My kennels are annually disinfected, and, above all, the drains are carefully overhauled. “When young hounds come in from walk Benbow’s mixture is a rare tonic for them. When seized by distemper, in the first stage we give an emetic—tartarised antimony 2 grs., and calomel 2 grs., followed up by a vegetable tonic such as gentian, ginger, &c., 10 grs., and in all cases good nursing. If the hound rejects his food and is sick, we give diffusible stimulants, and as a tonic 1½ grs. of quinine and a little port-wine three times a day. When a hound’s brain is becoming affected, as a rule any discharge from the nostrils diminishes; the animal begins to eat, and appears to be doing well; then suddenly he becomes excited, and fits follow. When this occurs a seton should be put in between the ears, and if the hound is constipated a mild purgative should be given. Fits, as said above, however, usually indicate a fatal form of distemper. “In cases of yellow distemper give an ounce of Peruvian bark and a glass of port-wine three times a day.... Whatever remedy of the many in favour is used good nursing is most essential, plenty of air during the day, and warmth at night. Benbow’s mixture gives an appetite, and thus helps to keep the hound’s strength. When the appetite is gone, the patient should be given any dainty morsel procurable. Artificial heating in the hospital is a mistake. In all cases tonics should be the foundation of the treatment, with good nursing.” Captain Standish (West Hambledon) remarks that distemper varies in intensity from year to year. The diaries kept by his father during his mastership of the Hursley, 1862–69, and the New Forest Hounds, 1869–74, show that he sustained heavy losses: and this despite the fact that in those days the absence of motor-cars and less rigorous game preserving made it possible to give hounds at walk greater liberty. The Earl of Stradbroke (Henham Harriers) writes: “After enjoying freedom from distemper for several years, it broke out last November, having been introduced by a retriever. The disease attacked the older hounds, none of the younger ones being affected; possibly the latter may have had distemper while at walk. One hound died. The disease seemed to be in the head and lungs. The treatment I adopted was to give a dose of castor oil directly a hound showed any sign of being amiss, and then Spratt’s Distemper Pills, feeding on milk or gravy, and avoiding all solid food for some days. Several of the hounds were very ill, the strongest being the most severely affected, but, with the one exception, they all pulled round, and none of them seem any the worse now, though it took them some weeks to recover condition.” Mr. Hubert M. Wilson (Cheshire) thinks that his small losses of the spring of 1905 were rather a matter of good fortune than anything else. But he says: “I certainly had the young hounds put in couples as soon as they came in from quarters, and regularly exercised instead of being turned loose into the kennel. I also built a new kennel of wood, with a very good cinder yard, where they seemed to do very much better than in former years. These are all the precautions that occur to me at the moment that were taken. But I cannot help thinking that the hounds that are in-bred to certain strains are, if not liable to distemper, certainly less able to resist it.” In answer to a further query, Mr. Wilson says that his last remark was meant to apply to in-breeding to any strain too much, and not to any particular strain of blood. Some interesting and suggestive points are raised in the foregoing letters; as these indicate the necessity for further enquiry, and as space forbids any adequate review in the present number of the information kindly furnished by our correspondents, we propose to return to the subject in a future issue. Recollections of Seventy-five Years’ Sport. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Won | 2nd. | 3rd. | Unplaced | Total of Mounts | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| G. Stevens | 5 | 0 | 1 | 9 | 15 |
| T. Olliver | 3 | 3 | 1 | 12 | 19 |
| Mr. Thomas | 3 | 0 | 2 | 12 | 17 |
| A. Nightingall | 3 | 1 | 4 | 7 | 15 |
| Mr. T. Beasley | 3 | 2 | 1 | 6 | 12 |
| Mr. Richardson | 2 | | | 2 | 4 |
| Mr. E. P. Wilson | 2 | 1 | 0 | 13 | 16 |
| Mr. A. Goodman | 2 | 1 | 1 | 7 | 11 |
| J. Page | 2 | 1 | 1 | 7 | 11 |
The space allotted to me for this article naturally compels omission of a wealth of detail I possess of these splendid records, either left by my father or since collected by myself; indeed, it was my father who introduced me to each of the three riders at the head of the table. Tom Olliver I never saw ride, but it was in the early sixties I first saw him at the side of Fairwater as the winner of the Worcestershire Stakes. He trained the mare, and the portrait here given of this hitherto famous horseman recalls indeed other happy times at Pitchcroft, and of those who then, summer and autumn, visited its races. Tom Olliver must have been a wonderful man. In 1839, the inauguration year of the Liverpool Steeplechase, he was second to Jem Mason on the famous Lottery, which belonged to Mr. Elmore, who likewise owned Gay Lad. The latter gave Olliver his first win in 1842, and the next season, the first year it was transformed into a handicap, he was on the back of the hero Vanguard. His third win, in 1852, was on Peter Simple, in the colours of Captain Little; and when the latter won the chase on Chandler in 1848, Olliver was second on The Curate, half a length dividing the pair. Another of his three seconds, St. Leger in 1847, was only beaten a length, but neither of his three victories, it seems, were close fighting. In his nineteen rides, he only came to grief three times. The result in one of these was a broken collar-bone. The late William Holman once told me that an arm in a sling in later times due to Olliver’s just-referred-to Liverpool fall, prevented his piloting Freetrader, the victor of 1856. Holman, who trained the winner, likewise gave me the information that in seeking a fresh jockey the late Fred Archer’s father was offered the ride, and it was his refusal that gave George Stevens the first of his five Liverpool wins. The last time Olliver, however, rode in the Liverpool was in 1859, so in one-and-twenty years he missed riding only twice. Claudian his final mount, was unplaced; Half Caste won. In or out of the saddle mirth and wit was characteristic of Black Tom, as Olliver was often termed. Indeed, many good stories of his private and public life are recorded in the earliest numbers of Baily. To reproduce them here would fill pages.
It was at Worcester, as I have said, I made the acquaintance of Tom Olliver, so at the “faithful city” in those youthful days a friendly relationship sprang up in my home, and that which sheltered Edwin Weever at Bourton-on-the-Hill, and that of George Stevens and the Holmans at Cheltenham. Then again of my picture: among my father’s friends were Mr. Pickernell, more publicly known as Mr. Thomas, and Johnny Page. Mr. Alex. Goodman I never shook hands with until at a later period, the veteran then loving to chat of his recollections of Miss Mowbray and Salamander. That was in my early reporting days, which likewise brought me into contact with Mr. J. M. Richardson, at those University grinds some seasons before his most successful Disturbance and Reugny double was accomplished. He was always most kind in imparting information as to his race riding to me. The same I can say of Mr. E. P. Wilson, at a period when he was associated with now almost forgotten chasers bearing names like Starlight, Nebsworth, late Jacob, late Titterstone, and so forth, all before the great striding, but perhaps non-staying, Congress gave him his first four successive Grand National rides. Then of my two other portraits, associations remain of more than ordinary racecourse knowledge. Mr. Beasley is the one, and Arthur Nightingall the other. Indeed, I was pleased to see the last-mentioned put a cap and jacket on for the first time, I think, this season at a recent Kempton meeting. Nightingall, well aware of my being full of National records, jocularly reminded me of the fact that he was “still at it,” only, as he said, “to pass the winning score of Mr. Thomas, Tom Olliver, and Mr. Beasley,” even if he did not last long enough to catch up George Stevens’ five wins.
When George Stevens first won the Liverpool on Freetrader, he had only ridden once previously. That was on Royal Blue, who was unplaced in 1852, and in the three year interim he had no ride prior to his so-called chance winning mount. But of his other victories. When the Colonel won the last of the five, that was his hardest bit of riding, and the only time onlookers in the National saw him fight like grim death and by a neck dispose of his friend and saddle contemporary, George Holman, on The Doctor. On Freetrader I have heard it said he was lucky to win a length from Minerva, as the latter badly over-reached herself at the last jump. When he piloted The Colonel to victory the first time, he won by three lengths, a distance by which he, singularly enough, beat Arbury on Emblematic in 1864. Emblem’s success the year before was quite a runaway victory. Even with her 10 lb. penalty, Arbury there had less chance than with Emblematic. Stevens, of course, thought much of the great double he accomplished for Lord Coventry, but in later years I am inclined to think for “greatness” he leaned more to the side of The Colonel’s repetition. Be that as it may, he was naturally very proud of both, and unfortunately was not spared very long to enjoy a well-earned retirement. For Baron Oppenheim he tried to surpass his already earned record a third year on The Colonel. The weight, however, was too much, and in the position of sixth the second year The Lamb won Stevens rode his last National mount.
It was indeed only a few months after this that his life was cut short by a fall from his cob while riding to his cottage called Emblem, outside his birthplace, Cheltenham. Sad indeed is the story, too long to repeat here, but to commemorate his great Liverpool name and fame, there still exist of him at his native Cheltenham certain mementoes. The house he was born in I believe has vanished, but on the footway by the road-side where he met his death there is a little stone with the plain “G. S., 1871,” upon it to indicate the spot of so sad an end. Furthermore, there is another mark of esteem in the public cemetery. Here is a more conspicuous erection in the shape of a grey granite monument, included in the inscription on which are the names of the four horses upon which he triumphed at Aintree. He married the niece of Mr. Mat. Evans, once part owner of The Colonel. The widow is no more, but I believe the only son is alive and doing well at Derby in a very different calling from that of his father. Those who remember Stevens when he won the Liverpool twice for Lord Coventry, will recall his face beneath a cap he put on as a help to the artist who painted him on Emblem in Lord Coventry’s famous picture. The vignette I place in the centre of my group is, in fact, the original, and was kindly lent me by one of the deceased’s friends, Alfred Holman, who still keeps up the old family training traditions at Cheltenham.
When George Stevens was beaten on The Colonel in 1871, the year proved, perhaps, the most famous of Mr. Thomas’ three victories. It was The Lamb’s second success, and associated with this beautiful little chaser was the fact that Lord Poulett, his owner, had dreamt in the previous December he had seen his horse win with “Tommy,” as he called Mr. Pickernell, in the saddle: and he at once asked the pilot of a previous heroine, Anatis, to ride. The original letter making mention of this successful dream I have seen in Mr. Pickernell’s well-preserved scrap-book, containing much of his riding and other exploits. One of course there finds a deal about The Lamb. Besides the story of the dream, one can glean much of the many efforts of Anatis besides her win. There is plenty, too, of other sporting qualities of her owner, Mr. C. Capel, who, only about twelve months ago Mr. Pickernell followed to his last place of rest. I think Mr. Capel lies in the same cemetery as George Stevens. Now, concerning Mr. Thomas’ third successful ride in the National, well preserved in his book is yet another letter. This is not one of dreams; it is that of congratulation in the hours of Pathfinder’s glory, and is from the pen of none other than the late Admiral Rous. Mr. Pickernell once told me he had few keepsakes of his successful Nationals except those two letters, and to which he then added, “are they not enough to be proud of.” Only twice in nineteen years did Mr. Thomas miss a ride in the Liverpool. His first mount was Anatis, the year before she won; his last occurred in 1877, when he was third to Austerlitz on The Liberator, two years before Mr. Garry Moore won on the last named. The years Mr. Thomas missed mounts in the Liverpool were when Emblem and Emblematic won; not through spills or broken bones, or anything of that sort. Just at that time he became a benedict, and it was family persuasion kept him out of the saddle. Not for long, however, for what he picked up from Tom Olliver was well in the flesh, and of one reception he met with on his return to the pigskin he is quite as fond of talking of as of his three Liverpool victories. And well he might be. The calendar records tell that in 1866 he won all the three steeplechases run at Aintree’s autumn meeting, and they, of course, included the Sefton on Sprite. Here, with a broken stirrup leather carried in his hand, by a neck he beat Stevens on Lord Coventry’s Balder amid great enthusiasm. Mr. Thomas, who lives at King’s Heath, near Birmingham, last September attained his seventy-first birthday, and although if now never seen on a racecourse, he enjoys fairly good health. He likes to compare the old with the new; he knows, too, in his retirement all about regulation obstacles. Did he not give up the official berth of inspector of fences before the National Hunt placed Mr. William Bevill in that position. Mr. Bevill never knew what it was to taste the sweets of a Grand National victory. He is, however, one of those named in its records in connection with many luckless efforts.
Pathfinder’s victory saw the final National ride of another of my subjects, Johnny Page. He there was on the back of Baron Finot’s La Veine, and the French Baron being offended with not a very pleasant greeting at Bristol, curiously enough never tried his luck in the National again. Page, back in England many years ago from France, and down Henley-in-Arden way, is still alive to tell of his experiences of the Liverpool Steeplechase. He won it on Cortolvin and Casse TÊte, was second on the former to Salamander, and third, as already said, to Pathfinder. In 1871 he was fourth on Pearl Diver to The Lamb, and all in eleven rides. He had early tuition as a jockey on the flat, for as a lightweight he steered First Lord (5 st. 8 lb.) when he won the Northumberland Plate. This, no doubt, assisted him in being so fine a judge of pace between the flags, and likewise gave him the ability in a finish, so much feared by his pigskin contemporaries. For this most of them gave him praise. One of the number, however, is Mr. Richardson, who, with Capt. Machell, so well managed the Disturbance and Reugny Limber Magna coups. Indeed, at the quiet little Lincolnshire nook even their near neighbour, the late Sir John Astley, according to his own words, hardly reckoned on their achievement. He tells us so in his book, and if he did not participate very much in their sweets he got up a
words “The Mate” had printed on the invitation tickets to the Grimsby Town Hall Dinner, prepared in honour of Mr. Richardson’s victory. After Reugny’s success the rider of the latter and Disturbance married the Countess of Yarborough; and, long since retired from the race saddle, now amuses himself at golf in the summer and hunting in the winter. He comes racing occasionally, and has for years had colours registered. They were of a different hue until the death of Capt. Machell, when the white and blue cap which he has on in my picture was substituted. The photo is a copy of a painting in oil, a presentation to Mr. Richardson after his two Liverpool wins.
In Mr. E. P. Wilson’s sixteen attempts to win the Grand National, he was very near the mark on Congress when Regal beat him by a neck in 1876. He travelled as far as 1884 before scoring his first win on Voluptuary and then followed it up the next season on the uncertain Roquefort, on which he would probably have won a second time had the horse not fallen over the rails in the straight, when Gamecock triumphed. At any rate, in his long career, which started in 1873 and terminated in 1890, he did remarkably well. Congress, as before said, was his first mount, Hettie the last, and it was on the latter mare, although unsuccessful, he had the honour of wearing the colours of the King. A portrait in the Royal racing livery would no doubt be more effective to my group, but is not available, so one in hunting costume, from a recent photo taken by Frost, of Loughboro’, takes its place. Mr. Wilson some time ago changed his home from Ilmington to Loughboro’, retiring first from race-riding and then from training. He has, however, started a new career. At Loughboro’ I hear that he makes a good host at the Bull’s Head Hotel; when away from home he sometimes is found wielding the flag and officially despatching the racer and steeplechaser he loved so well.
Mr. Beasley’s death some months ago, after retirement from riding between the flags, caused general regret, but yet recalled a splendid Liverpool career. His three winners, Empress, Woodbrook, and Frigate, were all praiseworthy triumphs, the last-named being the most difficult, but perhaps the most acceptable, as the old mare had previously tried there so often. But Mr. Beasley was not without his disappointment at Liverpool, for fresh in my memory is that of the 1882 defeat of Cyrus, when Lord Manners won on a former stable companion, Seaman. That defeat was a head, and on one other occasion only has the judge ever given a Liverpool by that distance. Spahi in 1887 was also a disappointment when he fell so early in the race. Of Mr. Gubbins’ horse much more was expected. Mr. Beasley, however, knew how to take failures as well as sweets. He came of a good riding family, as the National of 1879 corroborates. Neither was successful, but in connection with the chase I think it is a record to find Tommy, Harry, Willie, and Johnnie, four brothers, all in one Aintree battle. The Liberator won that year. It is Mr. Harry Beasley I have to thank for my portrait of the brother with such a splendid Liverpool score against his name. Mr. Harry’s record is not quite so good, but nevertheless will bear inspection. One win (Come Away) and three consecutive seconds and a third is certainly not so indifferent out of thirteen mounts.
And last, but not least, Arthur Nightingall is approached. He began to ride in the Liverpool in 1886 on Baron de Tuyll’s The Badger. He had no mount through a mishap to his horse at the eleventh hour last year, and as I have said earlier he quite expects to make another effort this season. Nightingall is of opinion that Ilex, the first winner he rode, was the best, and his subsequent running with such as Cloister, and Come Away under big weights corroborates the notion. His win on Ilex, however, was far more easily achieved than that on either Why Not or Grudon; in fact, when speaking of Why Not, Nightingall has been heard to say that he was glad when he lifted the horse over the last fence; furthermore, so beaten were his opponents at the finish that he thinks he could have won on either of the other three who followed him home. Why Not did fairly well in his hands again when Soarer scored.
Now I am at my journey’s end. Space has not permitted me to tell of the many riders of single winners, but before I stay my pen in this long story of National successes, I must, indeed, indulge in the old cry of “one for the losers.” Plenty of good men and true, if they have only ridden one winner, well know the difficulty of accomplishing success. In my researches I find at Aintree fine horsemen, professional or otherwise, like Mr. Arthur Yates, Mr. W. Bevill, Robert I. Anson, Richard Marsh, the King’s trainer, Mr. Gordon, Mr. W. R. Brockton, Capt. W. Hope, Johnstone, Ben Land, the Earl of Minto (then Mr. Rolly), the brothers Holman, James Jewitt, Mr. Lushington, Capt. Smith, Col. Harford, and many others I cannot now recall are of the number. Many of these, too, are still in the land of the living.
A Hundred Years Ago.
(FROM THE SPORTING MAGAZINE OF 1806.)
A notorious deer stealer, of the name of Smith, was apprehended by Hamilton and Lovett, officers, on Thursday morning, January 30th, by virtue of a warrant issued by the magistrates of Northamptonshire, which was backed at Marlborough Street office. The charge against the prisoner was for deer stealing in the park of the Earl of Pomfret, in the county of Northampton, where depredations had been committed to a considerable extent, as well as in various other parks in that neighbourhood. It was stated that a white buck had been selected for Christmas dinner in Earl Pomfret’s park, but that he was discovered to have been stolen when the keepers sought to take him for slaughter. The prisoner was represented as belonging to a gang of offenders some of whom were in custody in the country. He was the Robin Hood of the gang, and when committing depredations in the forests his bravado and fierceness of temper struck such terror into the minds of the keepers that when he was known to be poaching, even alone, no one dared to approach him. The prisoner, according to his own account, had carried on a successful trade in this way for many years with impunity. He did not consider deer stealing as any moral offence, but merely sporting, which he had been brought up to, and which he could never desist from. He was ordered to be committed to the county gaol of Northampton.
A match of pigeon-shooting took place at Heston on Thursday, February 13th, for twenty-five guineas, between J. Aaron, Esq., a gentleman of sporting celebrity, and Mr. Dunford, who was considered one of the first shots in Hampshire. Fifteen pigeons were allotted to each sportsman, and Mr. Dunford commenced the sport—which of these should produce most dead birds in fifteen shots. He killed the first nine, but hit the tenth bird without effect, and the eleventh he missed. The other four birds were despatched, making thirteen dead. Mr. Aaron followed, and killed eleven birds successively, when betting was seven to four on his performance. The twelfth and thirteenth birds were hit without effect, and the fourteenth he killed, and missed the fifteenth, by which he lost the wager.
Monday, the 10th, the stud of the late Premier, Mr. Pitt, consisting of nine saddle horses, was disposed of by public auction at Tattersall’s. The hon. gentleman was not distinguished for the excellence of his cattle, and in his carriage he actually drove job-horses. Of those brought to the hammer a bay gelding, six years old, by Pipator, fetched the greatest price, and sold for 130 guineas. It was put in at 40 guineas, and when it had reached 50 a person present, who had been in the employ of the late proprietor, bid at once 100 guineas, and it was ultimately knocked down to him. A gelding, by Grog, which Mr. Pitt used as a charger, fetched 72 guineas, and the whole 438 guineas.
The Sportsman’s Library.
The forty-third edition of John Wisden’s Cricketers’ Almanack
Now that the other cricket annuals, the old green and red Lillywhites, no longer appear, the responsibility of chronicling the history of the game falls upon Mr. Sydney Pardon, the well-known journalist, who has now for some years so ably edited Wisden.
We agree with Mr. Pardon that the task of preparing Wisden does not become easier with the lapse of years, so vast is the amount of interesting matter which has to be compressed into one volume. The five cricketers of the year, whose photographs form the frontispiece, are Joe Vine, that keenest of cricketers in Sussex, who seems to enjoy nothing in life more thoroughly than chasing the ball all over the field, and if required will cheerfully field in the country at both ends.
He is a very good batsman, as his many fine partnerships with C. B. Fry for the first wicket amply testify. But the most interesting feature of Vine’s cricket was his bowling, which for a year or two nonplussed the best batsmen. He was able to bowl the leg-twisting ball at a quicker pace, both through the air and off the pitch, than any other English bowler, and when he found his length he was very deadly, reminding one of the best ball of Mr. G. E. Palmer, the Australian.
It is an interesting enough historical fact with regard to the greatest leg-twist bowlers, that their careers have generally been extremely brief. Mr. Palmer seems to have lost his length owing to his cultivation of the leg-twist. Mr. R. C. Ramsay, in 1882, was for Cambridge University a terror for a few weeks, and Messrs. C. L. Townsend, the late E. A. Nepean, and the brothers Steel, have all had great successes by this method in their time, but, somehow, no cricketer seems to have succeeded in the craft of bowling leg-twisters for a very long time, with the notable exception of Mr. Warwick Armstrong, who, during the last Australian tour in this country, bowled no less than 1,027 overs, of which 308 were maiden overs.
Joe Vine can point to a couple of very fine bowling performances. In 1901 he took sixteen wickets at Nottingham—eight in each innings—for 161 runs, and so enabled Sussex to win at Trent Bridge for the first time for forty years. In 1902, at Hastings, against the Australians, he took 7 wickets for 31 runs; but sad to say, in 1905 the 21 wickets he captured for his county cost over 41 runs apiece!
Mr. L. G. Wright, the veteran Derbyshire cricketer, justly enough, is one of the selected five, and although he is now over 44 years of age, he is by common consent held to be the best “point” amongst first-class fieldsmen of to-day. He stands close up to the batsman, and his agility and quickness are quite astonishing, for of recent years perfect wickets and academic batsmanship have rendered the post of point proper all but obsolete.
An interesting feature of Mr. Wright’s cricket is, that like a good vintage wine, it appears to improve with age. He first played for Derbyshire in 1883, and since 1887 he has been a regular member of the team when he could play, and last year, in his twenty-second season, he came out easily top of the county averages, with an aggregate of 1,651 runs for 38 innings, giving an average of 43 runs per innings.
Amongst other big performances he scored a century in each innings against Warwickshire at Birmingham. He scored 176 out of 323 in the first innings and followed on with 122 out of 197, in first and out last.
We understand that a very influential committee has been formed to organise a testimonial, and we wish the scheme every success. Probably, Mr. Wright holds the record of having played upon the losing side in more county matches than any other cricketer, and so his sustained good play for Derbyshire is all the more commendable.
George Thompson is another star cricketer who has lent much importance to the doings of a weak team, and it is not too much to say that, but for Thompson, Northamptonshire could not have last year gained admission to the first class. Since his first appearance in 1895 he has put in consistently good work both with ball and bat, and, whether for his county, or for the Players, or the Marylebone Club, he is always one of the most useful men on a side, as he also proved himself to be when, with Mr. Warner’s team in New Zealand, he took 177 wickets at a cost of under seven runs a-piece, and, in the West Indies, with Lord Brackley’s team, he took 126 wickets for ten runs a-piece.
Those tried and valuable cricketers, Walter Lees and David Denton, complete the gallery of five, and it may well be said of them that if they had played more often in the test matches of last season no one would have been surprised. In the absence of Mr. MacLaren, Denton was included in the England team at Leeds, but it was not one of his lucky days. Lees was reserve man on each occasion, without actually playing in any of the matches. At the time of writing Denton is the mainstay of the batting line of Mr. P. F. Warner’s team in South Africa, and it is just as well for the party that the Yorkshireman should find himself in luck.
There are some interesting personal reminiscences of the late Mr. R. A. H. Mitchell, written by Mr. Russell Walker and another old cricketer; and Captain W. J. Seton contributes a very complete article upon public school cricket. The list of cricket records is a rapidly increasing feature of the general information supplied by the editor, and now extends to some twenty-two pages, whilst no fewer than seventeen pages are taken up by short obituary notices of cricketers who died in 1905, there being many well-known names in the sad list. The record of the year’s cricket is more voluminous than ever, and the full doings and analyses of the Australian tour run into sixty-two pages.
In the records of the Australian wicket-keepers we are surprised to notice that whilst Kelly caught 19 and stumped 7, Newland caught 12 and stumped 7, and yet Newland was regarded by everybody as very considerably inferior to Kelly, and kept wicket upon comparatively few occasions.
Fig. 73.—Proportions of the Horse in Profile
From Goubaux and Barrier. (By permission of Messrs. Lippincott)
(From “The Horse: Its Treatment in Health and Disease.”)
It is rather remarkable that of the many cricketers who played against the Australians only two bowled more than 100 overs against them, and these two, Mr. W. Brearley and Wilfred Rhodes, bowled 214 and 208 overs respectively. The bowler who bowled the highest number of overs next to these two is Haigh, with 99·4 overs, so that he was only short of 100 overs by two balls.
Mr. Brearley, with 37 wickets, got nearly twice as many Australian wickets as any one else, and Jack Hearne gets the best average with 7 wickets for 67 runs.
Mr. J. N. Crawford, the Repton and Surrey cricketer, supplies an interesting page in cricket history. Up to the end of July he was Captain of the Repton XI., and scored for his school 766 runs for an average of 85·11, and took 51 wickets at an average cost of 12·96. After this he was able in the few remaining weeks of the season to play enough first-class cricket to amass 543 runs, with an average of 33·93, and to take 47 wickets, his bowling average of 18·46 placing him eighth in the list of English bowlers. We cannot call to mind a parallel case of a school-boy doing such an exceptional amount of good work, both in school cricket and county cricket, in the same season. It would appear that the only thing to have prevented Mr. Crawford from representing the Gentlemen against the Players was that Repton School had a prior claim upon his services. This winter Mr. Crawford is enjoying great success in South Africa, both with bat and ball, and his return to this country will probably be jealously awaited by the keenest members of the Surrey Club. The date of Mr. Crawford’s birth is given as December 1st, 1886, so he has time in his favour, anyway.
The study of Wisden in the winter months is a fascinating pastime, but we have run on long enough, and must leave our readers to their own cogitations and musings over the book itself.
The second volume
The Arab naturally leads the way among the foreign breeds noticed. The author adopts a judicial attitude concerning the merits of the breed; he appears to share the opinion of those who think the Arab susceptible of improvement, while he recognises the intrinsic qualities which render an Arab so valuable for crossing with our own light horses.
The greater portion of the volume is occupied by the veterinary chapters: those matters of which the reader must acquire knowledge as a condition of understanding the descriptions of symptoms, &c., which follow. We have, always in simple and lucid language to be understanded of the layman, most valuable and helpful chapters on the diseases to which the mouth, throat, stomach and intestines of the horse are liable. The descriptions are supplemented by excellent drawings, which cannot fail to be of service to the reader.
The illustrations, in colour or from photographs, are exceedingly good.
From the first part of “The Horse: Its Treatment in Health and Disease,” the following is quoted:—
Ever since the days of Bourgelat the study of proportions in respect to the various regions of the horse has been vigorously pursued, especially by French hippotomists, and it is to the founder of veterinary schools we owe the first serious attempt to “establish the relation of the dimension which should exist between the parts of the body,” or, in other words, a law of proportion. As a result of numerous measurements, Bourgelat selected the head as a basis of proportion for all other parts, and the more recent researches of the distinguished savant, Colonel Duhousset, led him also to adopt this, and give it as a unit of measure.
The results of his observations are recorded by Goubaux and Barrier, from whose able work on “The Exterior of the Horse,” we extract the following list of proportions:—
1st.—From the back to the abdomen N O, fig. 73 (thickness of the body).
2nd.—From the top of the withers to the point of the arm H E (shoulder.)
3rd.—From the superior fold of the stifle joint to the point of the hock J J.
4th.—From the point of the hock to the ground J K.
5th.—From the dorsal angle of the scapula to the point of the haunch D D.
6th.—From the xiphoid region to the fetlock joint M I; above this latter in large horses and race horses, below it in small horses and in those of medium size.
7th.—From the superior fold of the stifle joint to the summit of the croup in subjects whose coxofemoral angle is large; this distance is always less in other cases (G and B).
1st.—The height of the withers H, above the ground.
2nd.—The height of the top of the croup above the ground.
3rd.—Very often the length of the body from the point of the arm to that of the buttock, E F.
The length of the croup from the point of the haunch to that of the buttock D F is always less than that of the head; this varies from 5 to 10 centimetres. As to its width from one haunch to another, it often exceeds only very little its length (often it is equal to the latter), G and B.
The croup, D F, exists quite accurately in length four times in the same horse.
1st.—From the point of the buttock to the inferior part of the stifle joint F P.
2nd.—In the width of the neck at its inferior attachment, from its insertion into the chest to the origin of the withers S X.
3rd.—From the insertion of the neck into the chest to the angle of the lower jaw X Q, when the head is held parallel to the shoulder.
4th.—Finally, from the nape of the neck to the nostril n n or to the commissure of the lips.
The measure of one half of the head will also guide us very much in the construction of the horse, when we know that it is frequently applied to several of his parts, namely:—
1st.—From the most prominent point of the angle of the lower jaw to the anterior profile of the forehead before the eye, R Q (thickness of the head).
2nd.—From the throat to the superior border of the neck behind the poll Q L (attachment of the head).
3rd.—From the inferior part of the knee to the coronet, T T.
4th.—From the base of the hock to the fetlock, V U.
5th.—Finally, from the point of the arm to the articulation of the elbow (approximate length of the arm).
Two Noted Hunting Sires, Van Galen and Victor.
After the experiences of very nearly a century it was singular indeed that the Hunters’ Improvement Society and the Royal Commission on Horse-breeding cold-shouldered the idea that like has a tendency to get like. For twenty years no clause appeared in their schedules that the thoroughbred horse eligible for a premium should have been a turf performer of some kind or other, and so sires obtained honours that were simply laughed at by owners and trainers. Sam Darling, John Porter, the late J. Humphreys, and Mr. Ben Ellam have had their jokes over the things, as they have called them, that have satisfied the State. Humphreys used to chaff a breeder about one that he was certain could not have gone fast to keep himself warm, and yet he won three Queen’s Premiums, and was sold as a hunting sire for 500 sovs. The conditions have now been altered to a certain extent, as turf performances are given in the catalogues, and the judges are invited to take notice of them. A shorter and better plan would be to admit no horse into the entry that had not won a race worth 100 sovs., or, to make it still easier, one that had not been placed in such a race. This would make the franchise, so to speak, sufficiently low, as there is this to be taken into consideration, that winners in these times of any event that savours at all of consequence are so terribly expensive as to make hunting sires, of great turf class, difficult to secure. The great points to be gained, though, from a racing career is that they can go fast enough to live with other horses, and that they have stood the exigencies of training to test constitution, temper, and the strain on limbs. The more proof of all this the better, as, to quote the late Lord Portsmouth’s views—and there was no greater judge—the best hunting sire has invariably been the racing slave; the horse that has commenced at two years old and run everywhere and often until he is six or seven. Whether the best are those that have won long-distance races, or to have been simply the quick, sharp sprinters, are other questions; but it will be generally allowed that gameness over any course is a quality to be held greatly in esteem.
The old-fashioned breeders of hunters were, no doubt, imbued with the idea that stoutness as shown on the racecourse was the essential quality to be looked for, and they had plenty of examples on their side down to quite 1840. The Boston side of Lincolnshire was filled with good hunters early in the last century by a Cup winner of Lord Egremont’s, who had the misfortune to break his leg in running for a race at Ascot. When the gun was being brought out to put an end to him, a sporting blacksmith from Lincolnshire begged the life of the noble steed, and contrived a sling for him in a building hard by. It took four months to get the limb thoroughly set, and then the blacksmith walked the horse to Boston, where he developed into the best hunting sire of that quarter, and after fifteen years’ service the grateful farmers had the horse painted by the senior Ferneley, and presented the picture to the blacksmith. Such were the feelings or sentiments for great hunting sires a hundred years ago, and perhaps the country is indebted for the good foundation in Yorkshire, Lincolnshire, and Shropshire, to such notable racers as Catton, Lottery, Clinker, the sire of the famous hunter of that name so memorable in the Melton matches, and the elder Clinker was second in the St. Leger of 1808, and got by Sir Peter the best horse of his day. It was said that Clasher, the successful rival in the great match with Clinker, was by the same sire, but other statements showed him to be by Clasher, another son of Sir Peter. Anyway, the two were closely related, and no two horses ever went over a stiffer four miles of country. Again, there was Cannon Ball, a winner of four mile races in his day, and the pride of the Quorn country as a sire, and was not Pan, the Derby winner of 1808, doing duty amongst the commoners of Shropshire in the days of Jack Mytton?
There is good reason to think that when the golden age of foxhunting was at its zenith the notable hunters were all by famous turf performers, and that the same views were taken in regard to hunter-breeding for the next five-and-twenty years. This would comprise the days of Perion in Yorkshire, Gainsborough in Devonshire, Doctor Syntax in Durham, Sir Peter Laurie in Gloucestershire and Herefordshire, and Arthur in Ireland—the kind of horses, in fact, of proved class that were used to get hunters. After this the ready materials became somewhat mixed, though there were still exceptionally good sires in the ’fifties, ’sixties, and ’seventies, with such stock to their credit that may well have been called magnificent.
To select the best may be difficult when such names as Mogador, Lambton, Maroon, Ugly Buck, North Lincoln, Pride of Prussia, Allow-me, and Lord Derby recur to memory, but taking all into consideration, both for England and Ireland, I should say that preference could be given to the two V.’s, Van Galen and Victor. They were both born within the same decade, and just after the second half of the century had commenced, as Van Galen was foaled in 1853 and Victor in 1859. They were both also bred in Yorkshire, and it is possible that they became hunting sires more by accident than anything else. Van Galen gave early indications of being a good racehorse, as he was highly tried as a two-year-old, and won his first race, the Tyra Stakes, at Newcastle in a canter. Then he suffered defeat when 7 to 2 was laid on him, and he ran forward in the Champagne Stakes at Doncaster. Through some accident, he had to be thrown out of training during the ensuing winter, and early in life became a hunting sire. He was just the sort for that vocation—a big brown horse, standing, when grown to his best, rather over 16 hands, and his card used to disclose at a glance a fine old Yorkshire pedigree by Van Tromp, winner of the St. Leger, and got by Lanercost out of Barbelle (all Yorkshire by Sandbeck), the dam of the Flying Dutchman, the dam of Van Galen, Little Casino, by Inheritor, dam by Waverley. To the best of my recollection, Van Galen travelled through, the country that comprised Northallerton, Bedale, Middleham, and Harmby—much the same ground, in fact, that was covered by Perion thirty years before; and I bear in mind staying near the last-mentioned Village in 1867, and that the Van Galen hunters were then the talk of the country. Mr. Bruere, a gentleman who kept a charming little pack of harriers near Middleham, had a beautiful hunter by Van Galen called Charlie, for whom, it was said, £700 had been refused, and he was certainly one of the best-looking and most mannerly hunters I have ever seen. He was in some of the great hunt steeplechases of the ’sixties. So were many others of the Van Galen family.
I bear in mind a horse called Vanbrugh, of the same type, big, weight-carrying, bloodlike horses that were natural jumpers from the time they were foals, and no days were too long for them. This is the character they gained in Yorkshire, and Van Galen hunters were sought after as much as the Perions had been. Like many other greatly patronised hunting sires, the famous son of Van Tromp had few opportunities with thoroughbred mares, but a chance union with Sybil, a mare belonging to the late John Fohert, the trainer of the Flying Dutchman, produced quite the stoutest horse of his time as the winner of the Chester Cup, and dead-heater for the Ascot Cup with Buckstone, to whom he gave a lump of weight. Tim Whiffler was quite in the family order, a big brown horse, and pity it was that he was sold to Australia after he had got some very useful ones, including Footman, who was backed heavily to win a Grand National. If ever there was one horse more than another bred to get great cross-country performers, it was Tim Whiffler, as his dam, Sybil, was by the Ugly Buck, whose fame down Northamptonshire way as a hunting sire was almost equal to anything. It was in after generations that Van Galen’s name lived so long, as a second visit to Harmby twenty years afterwards gave strong evidence that breeders had no intention of dropping the line, and that his daughters and granddaughters were regarded in the highest esteem as hunter producers. Another son of Van Galen’s, too, was Ploughboy, who was out of a Stockwell mare, and he did capital service for some seasons when he stood at the Newbiggen House stables, Beverley.
Victor left Yorkshire in very early life, as he was bred by Mr. R. Hunt, but for some reason not explained, he was taken to Lincoln as a two-year-old during the race meeting. Mr. George Hodgman, in his interesting book, called “Sixty Years on the Turf,” relates that having nothing to do one morning he strolled through the City, and passing the Saracen’s Head, saw a rough sort of countryman holding a horse in the adjoining yard. He had not the least idea of buying or dealing, but taking stock of the animal rather liked him, as he had good quarters, and was well ribbed up; his chief defect, so he thought, being his fore legs as he stood a bit over. “He don’t look much like a thoroughbred,” Mr. Hodgman remarked. “That’s just what he is,” was the retort; “perhaps you don’t know much about horses.” “You are quite right, I don’t,” said the now interested would-be buyer, “but what’s he by?” “By Vindex, Sir Charles Monck’s horse.” “Ah, well, just let the boy trot him about.” The boy took hold of the halter string and cantered him up the yard. Mr. Hodgman was satisfied. “How much do you want?” “Eighty pounds.” “I suppose he’s yours?” This suspicious remark occasioned some bad language, but then followed, “All right, keep your temper.” “I will give you eighty pounds, and he is mine.” The countryman pressed half-a-crown into Mr. Hodgman’s hand for luck money, and the deal was done. Victor did not do much that season, running twice, but unplaced, and he ran again as a three-year-old without distinction. At four he was specially prepared for the Royal Hunt Cup, Mr. Hodgman spending a hundred pounds for him to do his work on some ground at Winchester, which was precisely similar to the Ascot Royal Hunt Cup course. Tried good enough to win Mr. Hodgman invested a thousand on him, through Mr. George Herring, the now famous philanthropist. Victor started favourite at 3 to 1 in a field of twenty-eight and won in a canter by four lengths. In the same year he broke down when running in the Cambridgeshire, and ultimately Mr. Hodgman sold him at Tattersall’s for 28 guineas, the buyer being Mr. Simpson, of Diss, who some time afterwards sold him to the late Mr. George Arthur Harris, who imported him to his own stud farm in Ireland.
It was fortunate indeed for the land of hunters that such a purchase was effected, and Mr. Harris used to tell the story, that at the same time Mr. Simpson would have sold him Vedette for £40, but this was before the latter had got Galopin. In his new Irish home Victor was not long in making his mark, as from the very first he got beautiful weight-carrying hunters that had taken as naturally to jumping as small ducks to water. By about 1872 the dealers were enraptured with them. The five-year-olds had been seen in England, and there was a demand for as many as Ireland could supply. The fashion to get over a country on the Victors spread far into the shires. In Leicestershire, Yorkshire, with the Heythrop and Bicester, I was for ever hearing of them in my travels, and a great many in Ireland could not be purchased for any money. It was shown in later life that he could get steeplechase winners out of cart mares, and a great many winners of cross-country events were credited to young Victors. There had never been such a hunting sire since Arthur, and, like Van Galen in Yorkshire, he got a great Turf winner in Valour, the hero of the Manchester Cup of 1881, and certainly one of the best performers of his time. There must have been something in the blood of Victor that hit with the Irish mares, as no matter what they were like, from the Connemara pony to the cart mare, they all produce hunters to him with beautiful fore hands, galloping horses, in fact, that could jump. He really set people thinking as to what kind of horse is likely to be the best to get a hunter, as here was a quick, sharp horse over a mile that could slip a big field of twenty-eight and win in a canter, and the old-fashioned sire of the Gainsborough stamp was not believed in unless he had won over four miles in heats. There was no reason, though, why Victor should not have been a stayer, as he was by Vindex, son of Touchstone, and Garland by Langer, out of Caststeel, by Whisker, her dam Twinkle by Walton, the dam of Victor, the Scroggins mare, out of Miss Eliza, by Humphrey Clinker, who was by Clinker, the old-time sire above alluded to, out of Romulus’s dam, by Fitzteazle, son of Sir Peter. It is all the kind of blood that has told before, but not quite in racing pedigree, and that was the opinion formed of Valour, who was not a stud success. However, Victor’s path in life was that of a hunting sire, and as such he will never be forgotten. He lives still through his daughters and granddaughters, now the very best of hunting brood mares. The late Mr. Harris formed a stud for him, and it will always be called the Victor stud. A more prolific stallion there has never been. For many years his subscription list at Kilmallock, county Limerick, averaged from eighty to a hundred and twenty-eight a season, and when he was twenty-eight years old he got fifteen foals from twenty-five mares. He died in 1888, when he was in his thirtieth year. His owner, Mr. G. A. Harris, died in 1891, leaving the Victor stud to his son, Mr. John Harris, who is now also manager of the Ballykisteen stud, where court is held by Santoi Vites, Uncle Mac, and Wavelet’s Pride. There is something very remarkable about such horses as Van Galen and Victor. They have contributed much to the enjoyment of sportsmen, as their sons and daughters have made fox-hunting delightful. There cannot be made hunters without the material, and with that guaranteed the trade in hunters has increased; more people want to hunt, and the very breed of horses for the country’s good is greatly improved and advanced. How much is England and Ireland indebted then to the like of Van Galen and Victor.
Simultaneously with the appearance of Baily for March, both the 1906 crews go into strict training for their race of April 7th. This date is certainly late, but not unduly so. April has been the month selected on numerous occasions of recent years, and Saturday, of course, especially appeals to Londoners. From the first, the Oxford President, Mr. E. P. Evans (Radley and University) has been in a position to view the outlook with a good deal of equanimity. For one thing, he has been blessed with a plethora of talent this year. Quite an exceptional lot of matured oarsmen are in residence and available. For another, he has had the valuable assistance of Mr. W. A. L. Fletcher, D.S.O., as coach, from the very beginning. This famous old Blue has been dubbed the “Kitchener” of coaches, and with a good deal of reason. His co-operation has ever been a potent factor towards victory both ways. As last year, he has given every aspiring Dark Blue oarsman his chance, and, thanks to his powers of discrimination, fewer changes have been made than usual. How rich in aquatic material Oxford is this season can best be gauged by the fact that many notable oarsmen have failed to find seats.
After his 1905 prowess, Mr. H. C. Bucknall (Eton and Merton) is very properly setting the work again. He was the hero of last year’s race, and is undoubtedly a stroke of the nascitur non fit order. If anything, he is rowing longer and stronger this season. No. 7 thwart has been occupied respectively by Mr. E. A. Bailey (Marlborough and Merton) and Mr. A. C. Gladstone (Eton and Christ Church), stroke of the winning eight at Henley in 1905. Mr. Bailey is the stronger oarsman, but hardly so good a waterman as the Etonian. Any sacrifice of avoirdupois, therefore, will be amply compensated for giving the last-named’s permanent inclusion. When once the machinery is seen in motion any prejudice on this score vanishes. The president himself is at No. 6, backed at Nos. 5 and 4 by A. G. Kirby (Eton and Magdalen) and L. E. Jones (Eton and Balliol). Mr. Kirby is a freshman, who also rowed in the Eton winning eight at Henley last year, and Mr. Jones an old Blue, who got his colours in 1905.
All these heavy-weights are rowing well and long thus early. They not only possess great strength, but know how to apply it. Mr. J. Dewar (Rugby and New College) has been rowing at No. 3 thwart, and already in capital style, but if Mr. Gladstone remains at No. 7, Mr. Bailey may supersede the old Rugbeian. Mr. C. H. Illingworth (Radley and Pembroke) makes a very fine No. 2. He is an old Radleian captain of boats, who has figured at Henley on many occasions. The old Blue, R. W. Somers-Smith (Eton and Merton), and G. M. Graham (Eton and New College), have both been tried at bow by turns. Mr. Somers-Smith is the more polished oarsman, but his rival is much more powerful and effective. And, since his permanent inclusion, he has come on very appreciably.
Mainly composed of old Etonians and old Radleians, this year’s crew is exceptionally weighty, three of the men scale over 13st., and Mr. Jones over 14st. Avoirdupois is decidedly a feature, but, even thus early, they make good use of their weight. Mr. Fletcher has certainly succeeded in inculcating the theory of the right mode of applying force. Individually there is not a bad oarsman among them; and there are no ugly bodies. The blade-work is good, the catch fairly so, while, on the whole, the stroke is rowed right home with excellent leg-work. “As a crew,” they are just the one for Putney, if not for Henley. Perhaps their gravest fault at this stage is a lack of combination in swing and drive. The slides are used up too soon—before the hands are fairly into the chest; this makes them rather short back, and affects the finish. Altogether, however, they are rapidly developing into “a crew,” and a good one at that. They go to Henley for a fortnight’s practice within the next day or so, and will be fully ripe for the change. As the outcome, better uniformity in swing, sliding, and blade-work—so essential to a fast crew—should speedily obtain. Given such improvement, they will migrate to Putney about the middle of the month, distinctly one of the most promising Oxford eights sent out for many a long year.
In lesser degree, the Cambridge President, Mr. R. V. Powell (Eton and Third Trinity) has also been confronted with an embarras de richesses this year; or, rather, he has had to discriminate between a large number of experienced oarsmen much-of-a-muchness in calibre. This, of course, has made his task much more difficult. For it is not enough that the men selected should separately be good, each must fit into his proper place, or the whole plan may be ruined. Mr. F. J. Escombe, the famous old Blue and coach, has assisted him from the first, which has meant a very great deal. Like Mr. Fletcher, he is nothing if not “observant,” while he is a past-master in the art (for an art it is) of gauging an oarsman’s real abilities. A lot of changing about has necessarily been imperative this year, and, as at Oxford, many notable oarsmen have failed to find places. For some weeks President Powell himself set the work, but his right place is at No. 6, by common consent. He is now rowing with remarkable power and polish at that thwart, and Mr. D. C. R. Stuart (Cheltenham and Trinity Hall) is at stroke.
This gentleman will be remembered as the famous London Rowing Club oarsman and sculler, who has figured prominently at Henley and Putney of recent years. He is not only a strong man physically, but applies his strength scientifically and keeps a good length. Even at full racing pace he appears easy to follow. He is admirably backed up at No. 7 by Mr. E. W. Powell (Eton and Third Trinity), brother to the president and a freshman this year. While the younger Powell is a stylist above all things, he puts a lot of power into his work and is very effective. So also is Mr. B. C. Johnstone (Eton and Third Trinity), the old Blue and C.U.B.C. Secretary, at No. 5. He and Mr. M. Donaldson (Charterhouse and First Trinity) at No. 4, are the heavy-weights of the crew, and splendid specimens of manhood. Both have improved hand over hand during the last three weeks, and, with President Powell, are the backbone of the crew. Mr. M. M. Goldsmith (Sherborne and Jesus) and Mr. J. H. F. Benham (Fauconberge and Jesus) are rowing at Nos. 3 and 2, respectively, up to date. They showed promising form in this year’s trial eights, and have gone on improving subsequently. As generally expected, Mr. G. D. Cochrane (Eton and Third Trinity), the reserve man last year, is seated at bow. He has recovered much of his best school form, and works as hard as any man in the boat. His colours are assured and deserved.
As will be seen, individually, the crew is somewhat heterogeneously composed. “As a crew,” however, the men have long since settled down to a very pleasing, effective, and uniform style. Taken individually, they are as good a set of men in a boat as the Oxonians. It is collectively that they fail to hit it off so well as their rivals at present. There is a smart recovery, a fair catch, and a fairly clean feather in evidence so far. But (by comparison) the less ostentatious but firmer and more vertical entry of the Oxford oars in the water produces more lift on the boat and more pace in the long run. A much improved leg-drive is now observable, but even yet the Cantabs do not make the best use of their weight. These and other irregularities will doubtless be rectified “bit by bit”—as Mr. Ashton Dilke puts it in another direction—as both Mr. Escombe and his charges are in deadly earnest. They also will migrate to upper Thames waters within the next day or so. A fortnight’s work on the livelier Bourne-End reach will do them all the good in the world, and prepare them gradually for their later Putney experiences. Oxford’s chances of success appear the rosier at this stage, but there is plenty of time for Cambridge to equalise matters. Oftener than not the last few weeks’ practice has sufficed to dash the cup of certainty from the lips of assurance. Will it this year? Under this heading I may have something to say to the readers of Baily next month.
Goose Shooting in Manitoba.
Perhaps there are some of your readers, especially those devoted to the sport of wildfowling, who may like to have an account of rather a good day’s sport I enjoyed amongst these birds in a country where they are very plentiful.
It was a lovely day, early in the fall of the year, that I and a friend started out from the little town of Boissevain in our four-wheeled Canadian buggy, bound for Lake Whitewater, some fifteen miles across the prairie, where we had heard the most wonderful reports of the countless number of wild geese that frequented it. We were both armed with 10-bores, as a 12-bore is not very effective against these birds, owing to the great thickness of the down with which they are covered. As we drove along through the vast fields of stubble (the grain having been all cut, threshed, and safely stowed in the vast elevators by this time) we encountered numerous flocks of prairie chicken (a bird not unlike a greyhen, and of the grouse tribe), and managed to secure two or three brace of these birds from the buggy, the horses not minding the report of the guns at all.
In the distance we could see the shimmer of a large piece of water surrounded by tall rushes, which we rightly took to be our destination. It seemed to be only two or three miles away, but as a matter of fact we still had ten more miles before us. The air was so wonderfully clear and transparent that we could see the people walking in the main street of the little town of Whitewater, which stands at the north shore of the lake from which it takes its name. As we drew nearer the lake we could hear a noise something like a vast crowd cheering at a football match, and we both looked at each other and exclaimed, “Can those really be geese?”
It was now 10 a.m., about the time that the geese return to the lake after feeding on the stubble since daylight. As far as the eye could reach (and the country being perfectly flat for miles we could see a tremendous distance) there were countless flocks of these birds, all bound for the same destination, each flock in the shape of a triangle, with a leader. Some flocks must have had from three to five thousand in them, others only a few hundred, some less. They looked like a vast army in battle array, some quite white (the Wavey), others of a darker colour (the Honker), and some were cross-bred, with an occasional flock of Brants. But they were all too high and out of range of our guns, so all we could do was to sit there and gaze in open-eyed amazement at that vast throng, wondering if it could be real, as we are only accustomed to seeing these birds in singles and pairs in our native Wales, and then but very seldom. We were now fast approaching a farmhouse close to the shores of the lake, where we intended to make our headquarters for the day, and, if necessary, stay the night, so as to be on the spot for the early morning flight out on to the feeding ground (generally the best flight of the day). The owner of the farm, an Englishman, needless to say, received us hospitably, the more so when he heard we had not forgotten the demijohn of rye whisky, so much appreciated by the Englishman in Canada; this is really much better than the average Scotch whisky, after being kept seven years in bond by the Canadian Government before it is allowed to be sold.
After lunch we decided that the day was too still to get near the geese, as they only fly low when there is a wind; so we hid ourselves in the rushes, the water being up to our middles, and there to wait for any duck, &c., that should come our way. This belt of rushes, which is about half a mile broad and surrounds the lake, is noted for all kinds of duck and teal. In half-an-hour I counted six different kinds, including Mallard, Pintail, Canvass Back, Grey Duck, Blue- and Green-winged Teal, and I managed to secure five of the latter; but they are very hard to find when dropped in the thick rushes. By six we had each shot a score of ducks and my friend had also a snipe to his credit, so we trekked back to the farm to supper, and after turning to with the milking, &c. (or “chores,” as they are pleased to call all small jobs round the house, and I believe the word is derived from the French word choses) we had a pipe and a glass of grog and turned in, as we had to be up by 4 a.m. the next morning. For a long time I lay awake listening to the “honk, honk” of the geese returning to the lake, till at last they settled down for the night, and all was still except for the croaking of the frogs.
By 4.30 next morning we were lying in the long grass on the shore of the lake, opposite a large sand-bank, on which we could dimly see dusky forms stalking about. There was a stiff breeze from the north, and everything augured well for our day’s sport, if only they would come low enough and in our direction. Gradually the sun rose like a golden ball in the east and the birds seemed to be getting uneasy. All at once there were shrill cries, and we knew the morning flight had begun. My heart was beating like a sledgehammer, as I had never yet shot a goose.
We had both taken the precaution to bring cartridges loaded with No. 1 shot, and I had also a few loaded with B.B. shot, as they were said to be more effective.
I raised myself gently on my elbows, and peeping over the top of the grass, I saw thousands upon thousands of grey and white forms circling in the air above the sand-bank. The noise by this time was deafening, and although we were only lying twenty yards apart we could not hear each other speak. The noise suddenly seemed to grow louder, and looking up I saw a large flock making straight for the spot where we were lying, and only about forty yards high. We crouched lower and lower and waited breathlessly. The leader was a large white Wavey, and I made up my mind to have him somehow. Just as he got directly over my head I turned on my back, and let drive both barrels at him. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, the whole flock being thrown into confusion, and then he gradually fluttered down almost on my head. I rushed upon him for fear he should escape, and after wringing his neck madly, I danced a pas de seul round him for some minutes, quite forgetful of the hundreds of geese streaming over my head. But my friend recalled me to my senses quickly, and in language not quite parliamentary told me to lie down again and not be a fool. So I got down in the grass again on my back just as another flock came over, and out of which we got four apiece: it being a large flock we had time to reload and get in two barrels at the tail end. The great object is to shoot the leader, and that throws the whole flock into confusion, and you secure more time to reload, as they never go on till they have chosen another leader. An American told me a yarn of a countryman of his that used to ride along on horseback under the flock killing off the leader time after time, until he had exterminated the whole flock, but I give you this for what it is worth.
It was now about 5.30 a.m., and they were coming over us in one long stream all the time, evidently following the same flight which the first flock had taken, which I believe is their general custom.
By the time the last flock had disappeared on the horizon there were fourteen dead geese lying on the grass around us, and five wounded birds had flown back to the lake to die. A farmer living on the north shore of the lake told me he always went out directly the lake froze up and gathered in all the wounded geese that had been unable to fly and got frozen in with the ice. He said he often got from forty to fifty in this way.
By this time we were getting very stiff with the long wait, and were very glad to get up to stretch our legs, and congratulate each other on our excellent luck that the flight should just have come in our direction and within range.
We heard afterwards that more than a dozen sportsmen (amongst whom were two well-known Wall Street brokers who had travelled 2,000 miles for a week’s sport at this well-known Eldorado for wildfowlers) had that day lined the west shore with the hope of their taking that course, and they never saw a goose all day.
We now began to wonder how we were going to get our bag back to the farm, about a mile and a half distant, as fourteen geese are no light weight, and they were all fine fat birds (the stubble holding lots of feed for them that year, the crop having been a good one). Eventually we tied them all round our shoulders and waists and thus managed to stagger back to the farm, quite ready for our breakfast.
After breakfast we hitched up the horses, and bidding our host farewell, leaving him a few geese for his trouble, we started on our fifteen miles back to the little town of Boissevain. It was one of those glorious mornings with a lovely deep blue sky overhead that one only sees in North America at this time of year. We saw numerous flocks of prairie chicken, and added three brace of these birds to our bag.
At 12.30 we pulled up before the hotel from which we had started two days before, and were received with eager enquiries as to what luck we had had, or whether we had returned because the whisky had run out. Thus ended my first experience of goose shooting, and I have often wondered since why people use the expression “a silly goose,” for nobody could ever accuse a wild goose of being at all stupid.
In case any of your readers should ever find themselves in the neighbourhood of this lake I will try to give them some particulars of its situation and the best time of year to go there.
The wild goose is the only bird in Manitoba that is not protected by the Game Laws, and you can shoot him all the year round if you can get him. About the second week in April they come north from Mexico and Florida, and remain on Lake Whitewater till the first week in May, when they go north to the shores of the Hudson Bay to breed, coming south again in the fall of the year, remaining till the lake freezes up, when they go south as far as Mexico for the winter. I have known keen sportsmen, to whom time and money are no object, follow them thus through North America. Lake Whitewater is about fifteen miles long and six miles across, and not more than 5 ft. deep in the deepest part, with about 1 ft. of mud on the bottom. The water is alkali, and no fish are able to live in it. Its bottom is covered with small shells and this is the only reason I can think why the geese are so partial to it. They can feed on the bottom of the lake with ease, and being in the centre of a splendid wheat country they can quickly get out on to the stubble, and they feel they can sleep safely on the lake at night. The latest reports I had from this neighbourhood were very bad.
It appears that there is an American syndicate armed with a swivel-gun that comes over the line (the lake being close to the American border), and shoots the geese down in hundreds as they lie peacefully on the surface of the water at night, and, of course, they have hitched up and driven over the border with their spoil before daylight.
The local Game Guardian is evidently afraid to tackle them by himself, and the Western Canadian farmer is not sufficiently a sportsman to lend a hand. But it is a standing disgrace to the district that they should allow such a resort for geese to be ruined by a handful of Yankees, who have no legal right to shoot there whatever. Besides, the lake is quite a source of income to the little town which adjoins it, where the sportsmen who frequent this spot year after year buy all their provisions, ammunition, &c. If the citizens would only band together and make up their minds to catch the marauders red-handed, it could easily be done at a small cost, and this splendid resort for the wildfowler preserved for the future, whereas under the present conditions the birds will soon either be exterminated or driven to choose some other spot for their abode.
“Hunting Ladies.”
So much has it become an accepted fact that ladies in the hunting field, like motor cars, are there to stay, that it is perhaps unnecessary to trace the evolution of the modern sportswoman, or note her gradual development from the timid heroine of former days to the Diana of the present time, who is capable of holding her own with some of our best men across the stiffest country, of selecting her own hunters, and who possesses a thorough knowledge of all the details of stable management.
“Hunting ladies,” says a well-known contemporary, “drop into two classes, the industrious apprentice and the lotus eater,” and, without entirely endorsing such a sweeping assertion, there is much truth in the statement.
“The industrious apprentice” knows all about stable management and the price of forage, can identify a vixen with the tail of her eye, and may be followed with confidence in a big wood. She rides to the meet, knows all the bridle-roads, and three or four times during the season spends a Sunday afternoon on the flags.
Have we not all met her prototype?
The “lotus eater” will ride nothing but the best, has a preference for long-tailed horses with plaited manes, drives to the meet in a brougham, rides home at an inspiriting canter, and devotes the evening to the care of her complexion, the repose of her person, a Paquin tea-gown, and the infatuation of her latest admirer!
Possibly some may think this an exaggerated picture; still, many women in hunting countries go out because they are bored at home, because they see their friends and can talk scandal, because the hunt uniform is becoming; in short, for every conceivable reason, save and except a true love of sport.
It is, however, with the different types of the genuine sportswoman that we are now principally concerned, and though comparisons are always odious, yet we must acknowledge that it is only by comparing our own talents and performances with those of others that we can obtain a true estimate of their merit.
There is perhaps no more wholesome or profitable lesson for either man or woman than to be transplanted from the small provincial pack, where they have been considered a “bright and particular star,” to a fashionable hunt in the Shires, there to find themselves pitted against other stars whose light is considerably stronger than their own.
No doubt the good man or woman in an indifferent country will soon come to the front in any hunt, but competition is very severe, and whereas it is comparatively easy to make your mark in a field of forty, it is undoubtedly difficult to obtain a like distinction amongst the flower of a Leicestershire field.
Hunting is almost the only national sport in which men and women meet on really equal terms, and of late years women’s horsemanship, and perhaps we may say capacity for self-help, has increased so enormously that it must be a selfish man indeed who could truthfully declare that the presence of the average hunting woman in the field is now any real detriment to sport.
Also beauty in distress is a rarer object than in former days. Some few years ago, taking a lady out hunting practically meant an entire sacrifice of the day’s sport; now we seldom see Mr. B. off his horse, in a muddy lane, doing his frenzied best to improvise a breast-plate from a piece of string and the thong of his hunting crop for Mrs. G.’s horse, who possesses that intolerable fault in a lady’s hunter, a lack of “middle.” Self-girthing attachments have also obviated the irritating and incessant demand, “Would you be so kind as to pull up the girths of my saddle?” And ladies are undoubtedly much more helpful about mounting themselves.
We often hear it stated by the last generation that, since women invaded the masculine domain and took to cultivating field sports so enthusiastically, men have become less chivalrous and considerate in their manner and behaviour to the weaker sex.
Of course, now all intercourse between men and women is on a completely different footing to what it was fifty years ago, nevertheless there is no reason to suppose that a man respects a woman less because he does not address her in the language of Sir Charles Grandison, and there is still ample opportunity for the ordinary attentions and courtesies which women have a right to expect, and which we must own, in strict justice, it is usually their own fault if they fail to receive.
As far as horsemanship is concerned, we think men and women may be considered to divide the honours of the hunting field fairly evenly.
Even Surtees, who was by no means an advocate of hunting women, pronounced that when women did ride “they generally rode like the very devil,” they know no medium course, and are undeniably good or seldom go at all.
Every one will allow that with the long reins entailed by their position in the saddle, their firm seat and light hands, women are singularly successful in controlling a fidgety or fretful horse, and, in fact, are capable of riding any good hunter, provided he is not a determined refuser and puller; but if we analyse those qualities in which even good horsewomen fail, an eye for country and an ability to go their own line are unquestionably absent.
We once heard an enthusiastic sportsman declare that, in his opinion, no one who could not go their own line should be allowed to wear the Hunt button, but if all M.F.H.’s agreed with him upon this point, the greater percentage of their field would go buttonless.
Whyte Melville used to entreat lady riders “not to try to cut out the work, but rather to wait and see one rider at least over a leap before attempting it themselves”; still, with all deference to such a well-known authority, we cannot agree upon this point, as riding one’s own line entails that combination of valour and judgment which is the test of a really first-rate man or woman to hounds.
It is wonderful in a large field of horsewomen how remarkably few can live even three fields with hounds without a pilot; the path of glory may be said to lead, if not to the grave, at least to loss of hounds and frequent falls, yet, perhaps, there is no such intense rapture experienced as the bit of the run which we can truthfully assert we rode entirely “on our own.”
If a lady is unable to go her own line and selects a pilot, she should remember that she is conferring no honour or pleasure upon her chosen victim, rather the reverse, as in most cases her company is “neither asked nor wanted.”
In return for his good offices, therefore, she should at least refrain from reproaches, if his judgment is not always infallible, neither should she weary him with unnecessary and tiresome questions, such as, “Can Tally-ho jump a really big place?” or, as we once heard while a whole field were waiting, strung up at the only available place, in the fence, “Bertie, Bertie, ought I to jump on the beans?”
Many women ruin their nerve and limit their amusement by persistently riding only one or two especial horses; whereas, if they made an occasional change in their stud and rode as many fresh mounts as they could possibly obtain, it would be an incalculable advantage to both their courage and their horsemanship.
If there is one point more than another in which the modern horsewoman triumphs over her prototype of the last generation, it is in the matter of economy. Up to a few years ago, in addition to the chaperonage of a male relative, it would have been considered quite impossible for any lady to hunt unless she had a groom especially told off to dance attendance upon her, a necessity which added very considerably to the expenses of hunting.
Now that both this custom and the also old-fashioned idea that a horse required special training to render him fit to carry a lady have died away, women can mount themselves both better and cheaper than formerly, and, thanks to their good hands and light weights, are able to make use of the many good little horses which fetch such comparatively small prices at Tattersalls’ and elsewhere.
Those who regard hunting as a luxury to be reserved exclusively for the wealthy would possibly be surprised to find upon how very small a sum many keen sportswomen obtain their season’s amusement; and certainly in this department, at all events, the “industrious apprentice” triumphs over her “lotus-eating” sister. We have read in sporting novels, and even come across an isolated case in real life, of a lady who professed to act as her own groom. Yet here we must draw the line, for it must be an exceptional woman indeed who can turn to and strap a horse after the exertion a day’s hunting entails. The majority of ladies in such circumstances, we feel sure, would agree with the ethics of an old “teakettle” groom, who was wont to observe that he did not “’old with all that they cleaning and worriting ’oss, after ’unting; guv ’im a good an bid o’ straw and let ’im roll and clean hisself!”
Still, without actual manual labour, the eye of a mistress who knows how things ought to be done is a valuable adjunct to the efficacy of stable management; and when this is the case, old Jorrock’s precept may be laid down as correct, namely, “Hunting is an expensive amusement or not, jest as folks choose to make it.”
Finally, do men admire ladies in the field, or do they prefer to find their womenkind daintily attired by the fireside awaiting their return from the chase?
We all have our fancies and ideas as to what is most pleasant and agreeable, and like many things in this world, the key of the situation probably lies in the identity of the lady who hunts.
If she is pretty everyone welcomes her; if the reverse, they wonder “What brings her out?” As Surtees, again, justly remarks, “dishevelled hair, muddy clothes and a ruddy and perspiring face, are more likely to be forgiven to the bloom of youth than to the rugged charms of maturer years.”
Some men think mounting themselves quite as much as they can manage in these hard times, and would rather have a wife looking after the house than tearing across country in hot pursuit of hounds; also (but let us whisper such a terrible suggestion), the lady might have the temerity to ride in front of her lord; and then, indeed, would come the end of all domestic peace and concord.
Most close observers, however, will have noticed that the real good sportswoman is a success in almost every relation of life, for she brings to bear upon the situation both courage, pluck and endurance, learnt amongst a host of other useful and valuable qualities in that best of all schools, “The Hunting Field.”
Some Theories on Acquiring a Seat.
He is a bold man, indeed, who presumes to write on the art of horsemanship. The very attempt is, as it were, a challenge to a host of critics—some competent, many otherwise, but all blessed with a keen eye to detect the incompetencies of the writer. And though the latter, in warming to his subject, may write with an air of final authority on what he thinks are incontravenable truths, still he is always open to a very different conviction, if only these said critics can contradict him to his own satisfaction. But in the art of horsemanship there is always one great drawback, that only those can thoroughly understand a comprehensive treatise thereon who are, and save the expression, expert themselves. For this reason the writer confines himself to one or two aspects of the art, only at the same time he must confess that if what follows is understood and successfully practised—well, then, the foundations are laid, the walls are built, and the sod before long tumbles naturally into its place.
Now riding is essentially a sleight of hand, and though we may all be clowns to a limited extent, yet no one has achieved the status of a perfect clown without hard work. And so the suggestion is thrown out here that no one ever became a perfect horseman without assiduous practice. On the other hand, no one has achieved the status of a perfect clown—or shall we say acrobat—who is not naturally endowed with certain india-rubber characteristics. And here, again, no one ever became a perfect horseman who was not naturally the possessor of an active and elastic, though not necessarily india-rubber, body. From this we may infer that practise can make a good rider, but that natural bodily activity as well is essential to the making of a first-class rider. It is a misfortune that there is no tyro more jealous of instruction than the tyro in horsemanship.
I have seen so many young riders, and it is they alone who concern me, who have really had latent possibilities, but who, from an original faulty position in the saddle, and, alas, a deaf ear, have not made the progress they should. Still, if they do not listen to the counsels of wisdom, and yet aspire to go straight, they will find sitting astride on their saddle that hard-bitten dame, Experience. She rides with us all. She likes hunting—is seen to play polo, and is known to go racing. Those, therefore, who like to find out all for themselves, can listen indefinitely to this good lady, and so take it first hand.
And now to get to the point, I would say to every tyro, watch carefully all good riders and compare them with yourself, and remember that in your present state of inefficiency you cannot judge for yourself. You must take them on trust.
And here let us marshal what might well be axioms of a textbook on horsemanship, namely:—
(1) That riders are made, not born.
(2) That an active, pliable body is the foundation of horsemanship.
(3) That in as far as the pliable body is born so is the horseman born.
(4) That pliability can be largely developed.
(5) That a really good seat is never seen without really good hands.
(6) That, therefore, hands and seat are an indivisible term.
(7) That a merely stick-fast seat, without ease, is not a good seat, and is always minus hands.
(8) That a really easy seat is a firm seat and goes with hands.
(9) That the really easy seat is due to balance, and balance is due to a correct position and great flexibility.
(10) That a proper grip, i.e., a non-fatiguing grip, is founded on balance and not balance on grip.
(11) That a true balance not dependent on grip alone gives a free, quick, strong leg—the mark of a “strong” rider.
(12) That a true balance is founded on a proper length of stirrup, which alone can ensure the rider sitting really on his saddle.
(13) That the true balance, founded on a proper length of stirrup and pliability of body alone, gives the long free reins which is half the problem of hands.
(14) That to ride with too long a stirrup is a very common fault. It means too forward a seat, hence too short a rein, and consequently bad hands.
(15) That to ride with too short a stirrup is an uncommon fault, and only interferes with the hands in as far as it affects security of seat.
(16) That there is little variation between the seats of six first-class horsemen, a great deal between the seats of six secondary horsemen.
And so on with postulates ad infinitum, but to tabulate thus may make for lucidity.
Take No. 1. Many hunting men must constantly have seen a useless hand ride himself into a higher sphere of horsemanship, must have seen him by constant practice change from a stiff automaton at variance with his horse into a quick, pliable, strong rider; and Experience has been the mistress. But real experience means riding, firstly, many different horses; secondly, horses nice-tempered, but beyond him; thirdly, unbroken, hot and bad-tempered horses, and last, but not least, a “slug.” No man will learn to really ride if he always rides what he can manage; for that is not experience.
But to make a rider into a first-class man, to make him acquainted with the power of the leg, to teach him how absolutely essential it is, and how the automatic and non-fatiguing use of it alone makes the “strong” rider, and is half the battle in keeping to hounds, check-mating refusers, ensuring a perfect bridling of the horse and getting the uttermost jump out of him at a fence, then let him finish his education, which, by the way, never is finished, by riding a well-bred slug for a whole season on the top of hounds.
The remaining postulates more or less speak for themselves. They are all part of a whole, for it is hard to believe, if a man is to go in unison with his horse, that he can divide his equestrian body into parts. Hands and seats, as the writer understands hands and seats, are one, if horse and rider are to be one.
Take, however, No. 14. What is the chief mechanical fault that lies at the bottom of bad and second-rate horsemanship, the mechanical foundation upon which all the subtleties of horsemanship rear their intricate selves? Unquestionably too long a stirrup. This is the common fault, every potentiality is nullified by it. It is a fatal bar to riding, but, alas, its cure does not necessarily mean horsemanship. It is easy to shorten the stirrup. It is far harder to acquire flexibility; but with too long a stirrup real riding pliability and the hands that accompany it are unattainable. Every good rider must remember the time when he rode with too long a stirrup. He must remember, too, how the gradual shortening was followed by an immediate improvement in his riding, and the greater enjoyment thereof.
Probably he went to the other extreme and used too short a stirrup, and nearly, or perhaps quite, lost his seat.
Now, how is the rider to find a proper length of stirrup? Not, it is quite certain, by an absurd comparative measuring of legs and arms; individual proportions differ. No, it is a matter of experience. It is certain at first to be overdone, or underdone, but there comes a time when a rider can attune his stirrups, according to the difference in the width of horse or size of saddle he bestrides, with automatic readiness.
Now the first sensation of a rider who has been riding too long is that he is now riding too short, and it requires a great deal of firm persuasion on the teacher’s part, and docility on the pupil’s part, to keep him at the proper length.
Now, why does he feel too short and insecure when his double may be rejoicing in the security of the same seat? In the first place, with too long a stirrup he has been relying unduly on their support for his balance. He has also, to negative the action of the horse, been rising far too strongly on them. Now let him watch first-class riders. He will notice that they rise but little in their stirrups, the motion of the horse is mainly taken in an easy motion of the loins and shoulders; and, owing to the fact that they are sitting on the horse and not standing in too long a stirrup, they show but little daylight, and their feet are not dangling toe downwards for a support a good seat does not require.
Let the young rider, then, shorten his stirrups and sit down on his horse. He will gain the rudiments of balance without as yet much grip. For some time he may feel bumpy, insecure—in short, like a man who is trying to float on his back for the first time.
Still it is the only way to acquire the flexible body, and lose the yearning for excessive stirrups. The mere fact that he will at first still sit too much over his shortened stirrups and will try to rise on them as of old, will tend to raise him out of the saddle and give a great sense of insecurity. To lessen this unpleasant feeling, he must for self-protection sit further back, when he will shortly find a balance, this time founded on a real seat. The knees will find themselves where they grip the best. The new position is also in that spot which is best calculated to set up that rhythmic ease of body which not only means hands, but by taking up the motion of the horse reduces rising in the stirrups to a minimum. This will leave the actual seat undisturbed—free to grip, to sit easy, what it will.
It stands to reason the motion of the horse must be transmitted to its rider, but it must not be transmitted to the gripping machinery nor the seat. It must be transmitted to that part of the body best built to bear it, namely, the loins and sliding shoulder blades, which act as springs, buffers, or cushions. It is possible, of course, and in bare-back riding essential, for the loins and shoulder blades to take all the motion and the stirrups none. But the stirrups are there for reasonable assistance only; they are aids, not necessities.
We know if a loose marble was placed against the end of a fixed iron rod, and the other end of the rod was smartly tapped, that the marble would move. In the same way, if we substitute the action of the horse for the tap and the immovable iron bar for the rider’s grip, we shall find in the lively marble the pliable loins and shoulders of a good rider, which are far more seat than that part of the rider which is in actual contact with the horse.
The foregoing, then, is the secret of a firm seat and an easy one. From such a seat spring fine hands, long reins, and the whole bag of subtle tricks, which are otherwise, to mix one’s metaphors, a closed book. In the above it should have been said that it is taken for granted the rider rides “home” in the stirrup. Few real horsemen ride otherwise, except in hacking. Using the stirrup in a limited degree, they prefer to have it where it requires no attention, and is not liable to be lost. It would mean a hole longer in the leathers, and of course a rider can ride that way. But where a rider says he rides thus for the sake of the spring it is a confession at once of too long a stirrup and inferior riding. He is dependent on his stirrup a great deal too much. His stirrup is taking far too much of that motion which should be finding expression in the motion of the body. The leg, that is to say, is doing a duty which has very little to do with it. It cannot, therefore, properly discharge its own, which, as a free member, independent of seat, is to squeeze and encourage the horse at will.
A toe in the stirrup, then, is often, but not always, an indication of too long a stirrup, resulting in bad hands and all its host of attendant evils.
“Our Van.”
RACING.
Quite a fillip, which was very welcome, was given to racing under National Hunt Rules during the week which included the last days of January and the first days of February. Gatwick began it, and, with two stakes of £500 each, and the minimum of £100 only once not reached, success was well deserved. One doubts whether much profit can accrue from a meeting run on these liberal lines in winter. The meeting had been brought forward from March with the view of steering clear of the whirlpool which, later on, draws everything that can jump into the Grand National. The experiment must be deemed successful, for horses were numerous on each of the two days, whilst the public turned up in good numbers in anticipation of sport that was not denied them. One felt almost as though attending at a revival, so mediocre and tame had been much of the racing earlier in the jumping season. On the first day the chief item was the Tantivy Steeplechase, and in this the five-year-old Sachem, who had shown ability over hurdles, winning two hurdle races at the Sandown Park December Meeting, one of them the Grand Annual Hurdle Handicap, came out as a steeplechaser for the first time in public. He did so with conspicuous success, for he was carrying 11st. 10lb. and won in excellent style. By far too many people knew that he had been fencing in good form at home for the price about him to be long, and only the presence of Rathvale prevented him from starting favourite. On the second day came the International Hurdle Handicap, and in this Isinglass’ son, Leviathan, did well by carrying home 11st. 12lb. to victory.
Kempton Park followed on in the same liberal style, and met the same degree of success. The £500 race on the first day was the Middlesex Hurdle race, in which that expensive purchase, Sandboy, who had won a couple of hurdle races, was running, weighted the same as The Chair. The last-named always had the foot of Sandboy, being sent on a pace-making mission which he carried out with such effect as to lead to within twenty strides of the post. A sudden dash by Therapia, however, gave her the race by a neck; and whether the rider of The Chair was caught napping is a question upon which no agreement is likely to come about. On the second day, John M.P. created a great impression by the way he won the Coventry Handicap Steeplechase, named after the Earl of Coventry, carrying 12st. 2lb. The way he strode along and jumped made one think of Aintree, but two miles over ordinary fences is a very different story to four and a half miles of the Grand National staggerers. If John M.P. proves to be a genuine stayer, then he must have a great chance. The only previous outing this season of John M.P. was a hurdle-race under 12st. 7lb.
Sandown came in for some icy weather for its February Meeting. Over the three miles of the Burwood Steeplechase Ranunculus did a very smooth performance, but had nothing to push him, much less beat him. In winning the Sandown Grand Prize, a Handicap Hurdle Race, under 12st. 7lb., Rassendyl showed himself improved out of all knowledge, and scored his fourth consecutive win out of four times out. Mr. Stedall is persevering enough to deserve a good one now and then.
At Hurst Park the next week a splendid entry was obtained for the Open Steeplechase, but the race fizzled out to a field of three, and of these Kirkland was as fat as the proverbial pig, though looking extremely well. John M.P. gained a very easy win from Desert Chief, who, besides chancing his fences in a way that spells grief at Aintree, altogether failed to get three miles.
It is not unlikely that some clerks of courses will, in the future, make a slight alteration in the distance of some of their handicap steeplechases, so as to escape the action of the new conditions for the Grand National, one of which penalises a winner of a handicap steeplechase over a distance exceeding three miles 6 lb. extra. Winners of any two steeplechases of three miles or over are penalised 4lb.
For the sport of the month past we have nothing but praise. It has been one of those months which live in the memory of hunting people. The principal chases of which we have to write are notable alike for pace and for duration, the Cottesmore on three consecutive weeks having enjoyed runs which were of the kind which for want of a better word we must call “old-fashioned,” in that they lasted over an hour and covered a great variety of country.
I may repeat here, because it is a remark which cannot be gainsaid, and is not without its moral, that those countries have much the best sport which have the largest stock of foxes. The reasons for this are clear and I think easy to see on reflection, that where foxes are numerous hounds have plenty of blood, and there is a wider field for natural selection in improving the breed of foxes. Sport, as might be expected, steadily improves as the season goes on, the bad foxes are weeded out, and their places are often taken by more mature animals from other countries. Whether foxes are or are not bred in a covert it will never want foxes if suitable in the shelter and food it affords. The best of the Cottesmore runs which must be placed on record, was the one from Prior’s Coppice on Tuesday, January 23rd. There have been longer points and straighter runs than this, but none where a better pace was sustained over a beautiful but not easy country for a prolonged time.
Many days have threatened fog or frost in the mornings, and yet have been pleasant enough before the day was over. So it was on January 23rd. The morning fog was cold and discouraging. How true is Whyte Melville’s saying, that “Courage is a question of caloric.” Prior’s Coppice was reached, and though hounds left some at least of their followers at a disadvantage, yet when once clear of the covert it was clear that hounds were bending left handed. By the time Cole’s Lodge was reached the pack had started to hunt at a good pace, and the field were in their places. Those who had galloped to reach hounds had now to sit down to ride to keep with the pack. A slight turn helped. Then came a climb that made one feel the advantage of after-Christmas condition. Before Christmas a horse that had climbed the Hog’s Back would have needed a pull, now we can ask him to gallop freely.
The fox worked as if Wardley Wood was his point, but his strength began to fail, and he turned away before he crossed the road. Hounds swung round with him, and it was the pressure they exercised that defeated him. Now he began to turn and twist, but still keeping out of the way of hounds in the most gallant fashion. He was actually in the brook with the hounds, and at last crawled into Manton Gorse, from which he came out to die. An hour and three quarters of the best country, and at a pace that found out the weak points of many horses. Those who rode it fairly on one horse knew that they had to quote Whyte Melville once more, “not merely a good hunter, but a good horse.”
To find any run equal to this we have to go back to the Pytchley hunt after a meet at Weedon Barracks, on Friday, January 12th. In this case hounds hunted a fox which has, it is believed, run before them once at least before this season. This great hunt lasted at least for two hours, and there was just that amount of difficulty and hindrance for followers in the early stages that enabled hounds to settle down to their work. There was much heavy going, too; horses began to stop before, near Ashby Ledgers, hounds on the grass began to run away from them. Near Daventry wire cut the huntsman off from hounds, and with a beaten fox crawling in front hounds lost him after all.
The best Wednesday was at Yelvertoft. The fox an out-lier, hounds laid on in a grass field over which the fox had run a minute or two before. Fences that held up the boldest, while hounds settled down, made a hunt a certainty. There were a good many casualties at the flooded streams.
Never touching a covert and running fairly straight hounds ran on by Naseby Covert; there were two lines here, and hounds no doubt took up the fresh one. An eight-mile point in an hour tells of a first-rate hunting run. Another half-hour and the fox that intervened paid the penalty with his life. One of the great events of the hunting season is the Quorn Hunt Ball. This year more than 300 people gathered in the Corn Exchange at Melton, a gathering which included hunting people from many parts of the world and all parts of England. It often happens that show days are below the average of the sport usually shown. But Captain Forester, who was hunting the hounds, was fortunate in finding a fox which, if it made no great point, showed to the visitors a fine selection of the famous riding grounds of the Quorn hunt.
The fixture after the ball, on Friday, February 2nd, was at Egerton Lodge, which has been with so many generations the social centre of the hunting world. This was appropriate, and so was the drawing of the Hartopp coverts at Gartree Hill, and the visit of the fox to the Punch Bowl, his timely excursion over the Burton Flats, which is, perhaps, to the stranger the simplest form of Leicestershire. After running through Adam’s Gorse the fox led the visitors into an almost perfect region of grass and fences.
Altogether it was a day of which one could remark that anyone who rode the line faithfully would have a fair idea of what hunting with the Quorn meant.
On Saturday, February 3rd, Tom Bishopp once more carried the horn after being laid by with influenza. The Normanton Hill coverts held a traveller. For an hour and forty minutes hounds drove their fox over a country which is for Leicestershire rather given over to arable. But scent and a fairly straight line helped them, and when the end came at Broughton Station they were nearly eleven miles from their starting point, and had been going for an hour and three quarters. Thus the pace must have been good. This was the straightest run of the whole week if we except the Duke of Beaufort’s two gallops after meeting at Cherrington on February 2nd in the Tetbury country. Hounds dashed away for four miles. They were stopped and brought back. A third fox proved equally good, for he led them right away into the choicest of the V.W.H., the followers enjoying a variety of fencing, beginning with stone walls, and including the rough hedges sometimes set on banks, and the wide ditches of the vale country. The Duke’s country and the V.W.H. ride deep in wet weather, but they also carry a scent under such conditions. Hounds had come some nine miles in a direct line before they turned and came back by Charlton Park. But in point of distance the run of the month was in the remote district of East Cornwall, where hounds are hunted by Mr. Connock Marshall, and Mr. Philpotts Williams controls the field. It was in Torr Brake the fox was found, and a ring was worked out without any extraordinary promise. On leaving the covert again the scent improved, and from that point onwards hounds were well served. Even supposing, of which there is no certainty, that they came away from Torr the second time with a fresh fox, it was a marvellous run and a wonderful instance of endurance for fox and hounds. It was not till two hours and a half were over that hounds began to run for blood, and near Berry Tor the leaders caught a view, and ran into a most gallant fox that struggled to the very last. It is said that twenty-five miles was covered as hounds ran, and if this is correct the pace was fast, as the run lasted under two hours and three-quarters from find to finish.
The Woodland Pytchley had what may be described rather as a very excellent day’s hunting (on Feb. 5th) than as a great run. They were stopped at the end of five hours, having been hunting all the time. But there were several changes, how many it would be difficult to say, since such fox-haunted coverts as Rushton, Pipewell, Brampton, and Dingley Warren, were some of the coverts visited during the day. It was a remarkable performance for the hounds, and, like the run last mentioned, speaks volumes for the kennel management of the pack.
Staghounds have, like the foxhounds, had a capital month. Mr. Stanley brought off a notable performance on the Brendon Hills. He found a hind, and hunted her for four hours with a moderate scent. The hounds worked well, and their admirable condition carried them through. But we know, of course, that much in these cases depends on the combination of patience and promptness in the man who hunts them. The point was that there was no change in spite of the danger of this on the moorland at this time of year. That the chase of the carted deer has some points of resemblance with that of their wild kindred, is shown by the experience of the Surrey Staghounds when visiting the Kentish side of their country. They had two admirable runs, and in both the quarry ran into herds of park deer, the second one having to be left in Knole Park after a fine chase of two and a half hours. It seems as if there was no limit to the powers of a red deer hind in the winter, so that as the old huntsman used to say, “She can run so long as she have a mind to.”
The changes among masters which January brings are not very numerous. None of the leading hunts are vacant, and some of those which were in want of new masters have succeeded in finding them. The latest resignations are from Hampshire, where Mr. F. L. Swindell and Mr. Yorke Scarlett are resigning the Hursley and the Tedworth. In no county are shooting and hunting more likely to clash than in Hampshire. Moreover, the county is a difficult one to hunt, yet the various packs, including the Hambledon, the H.H., and the Vine have had a good season on the whole. No doubt the plentiful rain has helped to bring about this result. But good masters and huntsmen such as Hampshire has throughout its hunting history had quite its share of having helped this result greatly. Mr. Long, the grandson of a former master of the Hambledon, will, it is said, take the Hursley. In the north Mr. J. B. Pease succeeds Mr. Alec Browne with the Percy. In the Midlands, Sir J. Hume Campbell buys Mr. McNeill’s famous bitch pack with which to hunt North Cotswold, to the great satisfaction of the country. Among huntsmen the changes are neither few nor unimportant. It is said that Gosden will leave the Meynell; it is certain that John Isaac retires from the Pytchley after twenty-six years of faithful and efficient service with that pack. He will be succeeded by Frank Freeman, a son of the Will Freeman whom I recollect with the South and West Wilts. Gillson, a son of George Gillson of the Cottesmore, who has been hunting the last-named pack with great success, is to follow Freeman in the Bedale country. I can recollect him a mere lad as second whipper-in to Shepherd, so long with the South Oxfordshire. Gillson has not forgotten, I dare say, the queer-tempered horse he used to ride, and the kicking matches which, though unpleasant when he wanted to turn hounds, no doubt helped to make him the horseman he is.
The death of Charles Littleworth, formerly huntsman to the fifth Earl of Portsmouth, removes from hunting circles one of the best judges of foxhounds and terriers, and a most admirable woodland huntsman. Of those I have known in a lengthening experience none were better than the late Lord Macclesfield and Charles Littleworth at hunting a fox in strong woodlands. Both, I think, liked a big dog-hound for the work. The blood of the Eggesford kennels, as it was in Lord Portsmouth’s time, runs in the veins of many of the best packs of the present day, the Badminton and the Four Burrow each owing something to the Eggesford kennel. Then the famous pack with which Sir Richard Glyn and John Press hunted the Blackmore Vale owed much to the lucky cross of the Portsmouth Commodore with Mr. Villebois’ Matchless. But this is too large a subject for such notes as these. As a breeder of working terriers Charles Littleworth had no superior and few equals, as those who have had the luck to own one of his strain will bear witness.
The death of Lady Howe removes one who as a sportswoman stood among the first. It is only as a rider to hounds that I have to write of her in these columns. It has been my good fortune to see all the leading riders to hounds of the last twenty years, and among them there was none better than Lady Georgiana Curzon. It used to be said that there were five ladies who stood out as riders to hounds, and the late Lady Howe was one of the best of these.
HUNTING IN YORKSHIRE.
We have had an open January, hounds having only missed an odd day here and there, and it is not till the day that these notes are written that we have had any real wintry weather, though for a few days previous keen northeasterly winds and flying showers of hail and sleet have shown that there was frost and snow coming. Should the stoppage be a short one, sport will undoubtedly benefit, and there will be a good tale to tell in the April number of Baily. Sport, on the whole, has not been great since I last wrote, though there have been a few runs which stand out, notably a moorland run with the Cleveland, in which a good point was made and a lot of difficult country covered. Before proceeding, however, with a record of the sport, some coming changes should be referred to. Fred Freeman, who leaves the Bedale, will hunt the Pytchley next season, and I am told that his uncle, Dick Freeman, who has shown such excellent sport in the North Durham country for so many years, will retire at the end of the season. An item of news which will please all his many friends is that Tom Smith, of the Bramham Moor, has returned from his short visit to Blackpool fully restored to health.
Lord Fitzwilliam’s had a famous day’s sport on Wednesday, January 10th, when they met at the Oaks, Norton, on the Derbyshire side of their country. In Whenacre they found a strong show of foxes and hounds divided, one lot running by Sicklebrook to Troway, where they marked their fox to ground. With this lot were Bartlett and the bulk of the field. The other lot ran through the Norton Coverts, and turning to the right from Gleadless Toll Bar, they rattled on to Hazelhurst, where Bartlett came up with the rest of the pack, and they ran on at a good pace past Lightwood to Charnock Hall. Some foot people on the hill headed the fox and brought hounds to their noses, and they hunted slowly down the valley and through the Royal Wood, where they worked up to their fox, and rolled him over near Ford, after a fine hunting run of an hour and a half. A capital forty-five minutes from Hanging Lea by Hackenthorpe Church and Birley Spa, and the Beighton Gorse to Beighton Village, where they marked their fox to ground, made up a good day’s sport.
The Bramham Moor had some fine hunting in the cream of their country on Friday, January 12th, when they met at Hutton Hall. There was a brace of foxes in Hutton Thorns, with one of which they went away to Collier Haggs with a rare rattle, but the fun was soon over, for he went to ground near where they met. The other fox was viewed at Marston Village, and Smith went to the hollow. Of course he was a long way ahead, but hunting with the perseverance for which they are so famous, hounds hunted him slowly back to Hutton Thorns and over the Marston Road, and a couple of wide rings round to Hutton Thorns again, where he beat them. They ran a second fox from White Syke Whin, leaving Wilstrop Wood on the right, up to Skewkirk Bridge, and along the Nidd Banks for half a mile, where hounds were stopped, as the fox had crossed the river into the York and Ainsty country.
They had another good day on Thursday, January 18th, when they met at Deighton Bar, the day of the fixture being changed on account of the Barkston Ash election. They had rather a long draw for the country, for they did not find till they got to Igmanthorpe Willow Garth. They ran hard by Bickerton and Minster Hagg up to the Cowthorpe and Tockwith road, where the first check took place. Hitting off the line over the road, they ran down to the Nidd, which they crossed midway between Cattail Bridge and Hunsingore. No sooner had they crossed the river than they recrossed it, and they hunted down the banks of the Nidd with a failing scent to Thornville Old Hall. Thence they swung round in the direction of Tockwith, and finally were run out of scent between Minster Hagg and Bickerton. A heavy snowstorm drove them home as they were about to draw the Thorp Arch coverts.
The Hurworth had a rare day from Crathorne on Saturday, January 13th, running over some of the finest country in the north of Yorkshire. They found in Trenholme Bar Whin, and ran by Crathorne and Mr. Dugdale’s coverts to Leven Banks, and on to Crathorne Mill, where they crossed the Leven and pointed for Hutton Rudby. Leaving Rudby Wood on the right, they skirted Windy Hill, and with a right hand turn below Seamer Village, they ran by Tame Bridge, and over the Stokesley Road up to Busby, finally marking their fox to ground in Carlton Bank in the Bilsdale country. This is the second time the Hurworth have run into the Cleveland west country, and it recalls old days when visits were constantly paid to each other’s countries by the neighbouring packs, and the best of sport was shown by the stout foxes for which both districts were then famous.
The great moorland run with the Cleveland took place on Monday, January 22nd, when hounds met at Kilton. The morning was dull, and there was a little fog about, and at times the mist hung thick on the moor, and getting to hounds over the rough country crossed was no easy matter. They found under Howson’s Nab, and ran sharply up to Liverton Lodge, where they turn right-handed up Church Gill to Liverton Village. They left Porritt Hagg to the right, and ran up Moorsholme Gill and on to the moor. Then crossing the Peat Bogs and the Castleton Road, they pointed for Skelton Warren, but swung left-handed before reaching Lockwood Head, and crossing Commondale Moor they ran by North Ings and Sleddale Bog, and through Percy Cross Plantation into Nanny Howe, where the fox probably got to ground, and hounds went away with a fresh fox over Ayton Banks and into Brown’s Intake, where they divided. One lot ran to the top of Roseberry where there were open earths, but they did not mark the fox to ground. A holloa for’ard at Langbarough Ridge, took hounds into the low country, but this was evidently a fresh fox, and the rest of the pack ran a very tired fox by Pinchinthorpe Hall and Ward’s Farm, but he was a long way ahead, and they had to give it up. Only four men got to the end. I should add that I never remember hounds running from Kilton to Cook’s Monument, nor do I remember coming across any record of the same line being crossed.
DEATH OF MR. E. A. NEPEAN.
On January 20th, after a brief illness, the cause of death being influenza followed by pneumonia, this celebrated cricketer passed away at Clarence House, Windsor.
Mr. Evan Alcock Nepean was the eldest son of Sir Evan Nepean, at one time Director of Army Contracts; he was born in 1865, and educated at Sherborne School and University College, Oxford. He went up to Oxford from a very moderate school with something of a reputation as a steady batsman and an eccentric bowler, with not much length and a curl from leg.
This was in 1886, and Mr. Nepean playing for his college eleven had to endure the mortification of standing about in the field during long afternoons watching the chastisement of very moderate bowlers by moderate enough batsmen.
Mr. Nepean was an early apostle of the twisting methods which have since won such renown for Warwick Armstrong, Braund, and many another; but in the dark ages of the middle ’eighties he had to plead hard to be allowed to bowl an over or two, so great was the contempt inspired by his so-called “Donkey Drops” or “Cock-a-doodles.” But sometimes his frequent request to be allowed to bowl was listened to, and historically was this the case in 1887 in the Parks at Oxford, when he was playing in a trial match for the Etceteras against the Perambulators. The academic and fast-footed methods of the, for that day, at any rate, much miscalled Perambulators led to their downfall at the fingers of the leg-twister, and in a brief summer afternoon Mr. Evan Nepean had fully established his claim to be regarded as a bowler to be reckoned with, although but for his batting ability it is possible that he would never have had an opportunity of bowling an over in first-class cricket.
The success of his methods, at that time regarded as barbaric and unfashionable, led to his gaining a trial for the ’Varsity team, and it was found that the best professional batsmen did not relish the task of fencing with his insidious deliveries. “It may be awful tosh, but it gets them out,” was the verdict of the Oxonians; and so Mr. Nepean having twisted himself into the Oxford eleven of 1887, took five Cambridge wickets at a cost of 83 runs, and going in first scored 58 not out, when the Dark Blues went in to get the runs and won by seven wickets. The astute intelligence which at that time controlled the fortunes of Middlesex cricket speedily retained the eccentric bowler for county purposes, and from 1887 regularly until 1889, and after his call to the Bar intermittently for a few years, Mr. Nepean rendered great service both with bat and ball to the cosmopolitan county.
The season 1889 was the most successful Mr. Nepean enjoyed; he headed the Middlesex averages with 41 wickets, at an average cost of just over 18 runs apiece, and in that year he played for the Gentlemen against the Players at Lord’s, Kennington Oval, and Hastings. It was against professional batsmen that he had his most marked successes, and the great Notts batsmen of that day, including Arthur Shrewsbury and William Gunn, at the top of their form, would often fall a prey to his insidious twisters; in fact, his record for Middlesex against Notts in 1889 was 12 wickets for 88 runs, at a time when Notts was one of the strongest batting sides in the country. To a batsman quick on his legs the bowling of Mr. Nepean presented few terrors, but to the academic player accustomed to stand fast-footed in his ground and play gracefully forward or back, the Shirburnian proved a severe thorn in the flesh. As a batsman he displayed little of the enterprise associated with his bowling methods, but his stolid defence often realised a good score, for he was never in any hurry, and did not believe in sacrificing his wicket.
Mr. Nepean was an industrious barrister, with a good and growing practice, and had for some years held the post of revising barrister for one of the Metropolitan divisions.
By his death a distinguished cricket career was terminated, and a most promising professional career was cut short.
THE GRAND PRIX AT MONTE CARLO.
Mr. Mackintosh, the Australian, was once more favourite for the £1,100 and Trophy, which entitles its holder to claim to be the best shot in the world.
The accident of England being the only country in the world which makes driving more fashionable than walking up game, has taught young shooters here that pigeon shooting is not now good practice for game killing. On the other hand, clay-bird shooting at the clubs is good practice for pigeons, and so it happens that the man who seemed to have the only chance of winning for England at the end of the seventh round of the Grand Prix was a clay-bird shooter of pronounced success, viz., Mr. Cave. This was also true of the last Englishman to win the trophy, viz., Captain Pellier Johnson.
On the other hand, the most successful Englishman in the present season at Monte Carlo has been a regular Hurlingham and Gun Club pigeon-shooter for many years. This is Mr. Hodgson Roberts, who took the Prix Journu Handicap from the extreme range of 30 metres with 15 straight kills on January 9th, and on January 30th won the Grande Poule d’Essai, an even distance event, with 19 consecutive kills. Nevertheless, the betting for the bigger event favoured Mr. Mackintosh all through the season, although in the last-named event he had killed but four birds, and had not been either lucky or great during the season. His principal triumph was the Prix Myosotis Handicap, which he divided from the 31 metres mark, but with only 7 kills; the famous French shooter, M. Journu, being in with him from the 29½ metres distance. On January 15th Mr. Roberts and Mr. C. Robinson (the latter representing America) had won the Prix H. Grasselli, with a run of eight kills each. This prize is named after the victor in 1902 and 1905, and should have its amount multiplied by three in future years, as an honour to the Italian shooter who has become the first three-times-victor, who also has won twice consecutively, for, in spite of the penalty distance, he has now won a third time. Surely where pigeon shooting counts as a proof of marksmanship he must be held to be the greatest shot in the world. The triumph of Italy was almost a foregone conclusion when Mr. Cave failed for England at his eighth bird, but it was not Signor H. Grasselli who the Italians backed then, but his runner-up last year. This was Signor Marconcini, who, having killed his eleventh bird without a a miss, went to the traps with £1,100 and the trophy trembling in the balance against the life of one pigeon. Nerves were on the side of the latter, which was, however, an easy bird and feathered by both barrels, but fell dead just the wrong side of the boundary, which made all the difference to Signor Marconcini, who was not even amongst the six victors in the end. The betting at the start was 100 to 7 Mackintosh, 20 to 1 against H. Grasselli, last year’s victor, and then 25 to 1 was obtained about Roberts, Robinson, and P. Thellusson. The first named of these three missed his first bird, and the last named his second. Probably the betting really indicates the status of the shooters quite as much as the chances of war and eventual victory, and for that reason it may be added that 33 to 1 was to be had against Journu, Marconcini, Wilder, Lazzara, Habite, Moore, Huet, and F. Thellusson, and 50 to 1 each against Chiannini, Bruce, Moncorge, Hans, Marsh, H. Cave, C. Cave, Webb, Horadetski and Rosslyn, and 66 to 1 against any others. As there were 175 shooters, it cannot be said that the odds were upon the liberal side. The strength of the birds and some wind soon settled the chances of more than three parts of the competitors, but those who had the luck to get to the last day had no wind to contend with, although the birds were of the best throughout. Of course the entry was the record, for in spite of our insular prejudice the event grows in importance. Signor H. Grasselli won with 19 kills in 20 birds; Signor Bordoni killed 18 out of 20 birds and took second, and Dom Luro, from Brazil, with 16 out of 18 obtained third place. The fourth prize was secured by 15 out of 16 shots by three shooters, who divided, these were two Italians and one Frenchman, so that there were four Italian victors out of six. The fourth men were Signor Chirericati, Signor Schianini, and Count Lazzana. The victories are now twelve times for England, all but three of them in the first half of the competitions, twelve for Italy, all but three of these being the last half of the annual events. Four times Frenchmen won. Three times Austria and Hungary have taken the trophy. Twice it has been won by Belgium, and Spain has taken it once, as also has the United States, which was in the year of its initiation. America, for different reasons to England (for game driving is unknown there) seems to have dropped almost out of the competition, although it is probable that the best pigeon shots are to be found in that country. At any rate, the best clay-bird shots are, and the ease with which they overthrew the English team in which Mr. Cave shot a few years ago will hardly be forgotten, and they did it with one barrel against the English two.
GOLF.
The General Election took from the membership of the House of Commons several good golfers, including Mr. Arthur Balfour, Mr. Gerald Balfour, and Mr. Alfred Lyttelton, and made only one notable addition, namely, Mr. Frank Newnes, the new member for the Bassetlaw Division of Notts. The two best players at Westminster, Mr. Eric Hambro and Mr. H. W. Forster, retained their seats.
The Walton Heath Club has inaugurated a competition which promises to excite much interest among London golfers. The competition is for a challenge trophy presented by the club, and is confined to clubs whose headquarters are within thirty miles of Charing Cross. Each club will provide a professional and an amateur player, or two amateurs, and the couple will play a two-ball foursome on a neutral green, until the final round is reached, when the play must take place on Walton Heath. If the response to the invitation for entries is at all general there will be fine play, for the London clubs include some of the best players, amateur and professional, in the country. The latter include Harry Vardon, James Braid, J. H. Taylor, Jack White and Rowland Jones; while among the former are Mr. H. H. Hilton, Mr. Harold Beveridge, Mr. W. Herbert Fowler, and Mr. T. R. Pinkerton.
Four professionals from this country, Jack White, Alexander Herd, Andrew Kirkaldy and Rowland Jones, went to Mexico and took part in the championship meeting there. They, however, found the conditions far from their liking, and made an indifferent show. The championship was won by Willie Smith, an old Carnoustie player, who has been some time in America, and can play on sand greens. A team competition was arranged, but in this the home professionals did no better than in the championship play. Andrew Kirkaldy had for opponent Bernard Nicholls, the young professional who beat Harry Vardon twice in America. Nicholls on this occasion defeated Kirkaldy by two holes.
Harry Vardon is staying at La Touquet this winter for his health, and has distinguished himself by making a record score for the course of 68. This indicates surely that his health is mending.
A scheme has been started for the laying out of a full golf course at Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, and the conversion of Norris Castle into a clubhouse, with bedrooms for the accommodation of golfers as well as yachtsmen.
“HIS HOUSE IN ORDER,” AT THE ST. JAMES’S THEATRE.
Following the great success of “Nero” comes the marked success of Pinero, and Mr. George Alexander is to be congratulated upon the reception which his recent production has received from public and critics alike.
Mr. Pinero rising, phoenix-like, from the ashes of “The Wife without a Smile,” has, according to many intelligent playgoers, soared to a greater height than ever before, and people have not hesitated to declare “His House in Order” to be a finer play than “The Second Mrs. Tanqueray.”
A few years ago Mr. Pinero was reported to have said, upon some public occasion, that what a dramatist requires is praise. Our leading playwright ought just now to be like the little boy in the advertisement, “He is happy now he has got it.”
With everybody loud in their praises of the play, we have to ask for sympathy in the disappointment we suffered on seeing it. We have always been full of admiration for Mr. Pinero’s genius, and having been told to expect so much of his latest work, we were discontented with what we saw and heard. To begin with, we could not find in the play one single character with whom we could sympathise or whose cause we could espouse with any enthusiasm.
Nina is presumably meant to appeal to the sympathies of the audience, but, after all, her only claim to this appears to be that she is mortified and distressed by the brutality of the relatives of the first wife of her husband. Nina Jesson seems to be just a middle-class little thing who, entering the Jesson household as governess, marries Jesson on the death of his first wife.
She is devoted to ill-mannered dogs, which she would love to encourage about the house; she is a confirmed cigarette-smoker, having been instructed in this accomplishment by her father, the clergyman, and she appears to be untidy, unpunctual, and generally impossible; whilst she is sneak enough to read other people’s letters and to use them for her own ends. And so to keep Jesson’s house in order, the deceased wife’s sister acts as hostess instead of the unpractical Nina—and that is the grievance. She and the other three members of the Ridgeley family do not hesitate to enlarge on the shortcomings of the second Mrs. Jesson, and hence our tears are invoked on behalf of the ex-governess.
We may say, however, that for Miss Irene Vanbrugh, who plays Nina, we have nothing but the warmest admiration. She plays the part for all that it is worth, and her performance is the finest feature of the play.
The members of the Ridgeley family are, to our mind, like nothing in the world except themselves, and they certainly are so much like one another that Nina might have drawn them at any time by saying: “There are not four Ridgeleys but one Ridgeley.”
Mr. Pinero has probably met a Ridgeley somewhere, but we hope there are not many of them about. Hillary Jesson, in one of his flights of declamation, denounces the Ridgeleys as “individually and collectively one of the pests of humanity,” and this line got the most hearty applause of the evening. Obviously the Ridgeleys never go in front at the St. James’s Theatre, and it is not at all a bad device of stage-craft to direct all your slings and arrows against a class of people who, if not absolutely non-existent, are certainly never to be found amongst the audience in a theatre. The middle-class Puritanical goody-goody must always be a safe butt for the player and playgoer.
But there are much worse people than the Ridgeleys in the play. There is a Major Maurewarde who seduces the wife of his friend, sneakingly claims the only offspring of that marriage as his own natural son, and after the death of the lady contrives to enjoy the hospitality of the cuckold and the affection of the bastard—a nice specimen of an officer and a gentleman!
Then there is a British Minister to some foreign republic, unfortunately home on leave, who must have a finger in every pie and put the whole world straight. He espouses the cause of Nina, but when she is going to use the compromising letters of her predecessor in the affections of Jesson, Hillary Jesson, his brother, the meddler, prevails upon her to do no such thing, but to hand over the compromising documents to his safe keeping, with the result that he loses little time in handing them himself to his brother, the deceived husband.
As a reward for having nearly talked her to death, her self-elected champion asks Nina to present him with her cigarette case that he may add it to a very bizarre collection of curiosities he has made, including “the blood-stained handkerchief of a matador, and a half-smoked cigarette that has been pressed by the lips of an empress—one of the noblest of her sex.” To our mind, the man who can talk such rot as this is likely to be a much more troublesome creature than any of the despised Ridgeleys.
Then the husband Jesson would not be everybody’s choice; he certainly treats his second wife very unkindly, and as far as we can see the only reason for his kicking out the Ridgeleys, and allowing his wife to resume the proud privilege of keeping house for him, is that he becomes aware of the infidelity of his first wife and wreaks his vengeance upon her relatives.
We are told that two wrongs cannot make one right, and there seems no reason why the accidental revelation of the infidelities of a dead woman should suddenly transform a bad housekeeper into a good one, as probably Mr. Jesson soon discovered.
Upon the theme of this interesting play one might wander on indefinitely, but space fortunately forbids our saying more now, except that everybody should go and see “His House in Order,” and everybody should be interested by it; but we cannot think that anybody ought to call it Mr. Pinero’s masterpiece, for Mr. Pinero has written some very fine plays indeed.
Sporting Intelligence.
[During January—February, 1906.]
On January 17th Her Majesty the Queen attended the meet of the West Norfolk Foxhounds, at Rougham Hall, in a motor car; the Princess Victoria, and the Princes Edward and Albert of Wales were present on horseback. The Queen showed great interest in the pack, and photographed the hounds.
While out hunting with the Woodland Pytchley Hounds, on January 17th, Mr. John Thornton, of Pilton, Northamptonshire, when jumping a high fence, was thrown from his seat and came down on the point of the saddle, sustaining severe internal injuries, to which he succumbed on the following day.
Mr. J. G. Blanshard, who had been for some thirty years secretary of the Wetherby Steeplechase Meeting, died at his residence, Walton, near Wetherby, on January 18th, at the age of seventy. Mr. Blanshard was a well-known judge of horses, and bred many good hunters in his time.
On January 18th there died at his residence, Wynnstay Gardens, Kensington, Mr. Thomas Hughes, aged eighty-three years. Mr. Hughes was, in his day, a well-known personage on the turf, and so far back as 1859 he did well when The Brewer won the Liverpool Autumn Cup; and in 1864 he won the Chester Cup with the eight-year-old Flash-in-the-Pan.
The Croome Hounds had a good run on January 20th, during which the pack got upon the railway and had the misfortune to lose a hound.
At the early age of forty-two years, Sir James Percy Miller, Bart., died at Manderston, Duns, Berwickshire, on January 22nd, as the result of a chill taken while out hunting the previous week. The deceased baronet had a very successful career on the Turf, and in 1903 won the Derby with Rock Sand; he was also well known in the hunting-field, and had been from 1897 Master of the local pack.
Owing to the death of Sir George Shiffner, which occurred on January 23rd, in his eighty-sixth year, at his residence, Coombe, Lewes, the Southdown Foxhounds did not meet for several days.
A painful incident occurred with the Meynell Hounds on January 25th. The meet was at Brailsford Bridge, and Captain Frederick Livingstone Campbell, superintendent of the Sheerness Dockyard, who was out, suffered a seizure just as the fox was killed, and fell from his saddle, dislocating his neck; hounds were at once called off.
The death occurred at Mython House, near Shrewsbury, of Mr. Alfred Roqueir Candon. The deceased, who was an old member of the Cotswold Hunt, was this season hunting with the Shropshire hounds. On January 30th, while exercising a hunter, after taking several fences the horse bolted and threw its rider at a gate: Mr. Candon broke his neck, death being almost instantaneous.
One of the best-known writers on natural history and country life subjects, Mr. Charles John Cornish, died at Worthing on January 30th, aged forty-seven years. The deceased was a keen lover of field sports and wildfowling, and his experiences were most agreeably related in many books and articles contributed to the Spectator and other periodicals.
Lord Newlands, who was in his eighty-first year, died at Maudslie Castle, Lanarkshire, on January 30th. For many years he was a keen supporter of coaching, and was a member of the Four-in-Hand and also of the Coaching Clubs, being elected President of the last-named in 1902. Lord Newland was a prominent supporter of the Lanark Races.
On January 30th the death occurred of a well-known Yorkshire sportsman and ex-M.F.H., Mr. John Hill. He was in his eighty-fifth year, and passed away suddenly at the Low Hall, Brompton, Yorkshire. Mr. John Hill and his father before him, Mr. R. Johnson Hill, hunted the country around Scarborough, now known as Mr. Sherbrooke’s, from the year 1808. Mr. John Hill took over the Mastership upon the death of his father in 1855, but sold the hounds in 1862 to the Duke of Grafton. Frank Beers was well pleased with the pack, and their blood is to be found, says Horse and Hound, in the Grafton Hounds to-day. Mr. Hill was succeeded in the Mastership of the Scarborough country by Mr. Harcourt Johnstone (the present Lord Derwent), for whom he hunted them for many seasons, and another member of the family, Mr. Robin Hill, is at present acting as amateur huntsman to Mr. Sherbrooke.
Mr. John Bell Irving, of Whitehill, Dumfriesshire, died on January 31st in his ninety-fourth year. The deceased was the oldest Justice of the Peace in Scotland, having been on the commission for sixty years. He was a famous breeder of stock and a prominent coursing man, having owned many well-known greyhounds, and was the only survivor of a band of county gentlemen which started the Dumfriesshire Foxhounds. Last year, at the age of ninety-three, he was present at the annual races. His wife, who predeceased him eighteen months ago, was the sister of the late Sir Robert Jardine.
On February 3rd Charles Littleworth died at his residence at Crediton, aged seventy-six years. The deceased, who was born in Hampshire, entered hunt service in 1854, when he became second horseman to the Earl of Portsmouth, then Master of the Vine; later he went with Lord Portsmouth to Devonshire as first whipper-in to the Eggesford, and was soon after promoted to huntsman. He remained on active service in the country for nearly forty years. In 1890 he was presented with an illuminated address and a purse of 200 guineas. Charles Littleworth took a great interest in the breeding of fox-terriers, and often acted as a judge at shows.
On February 3rd there passed away Major T. H. Preston, of Moreby Hall, near York, in his eighty-ninth year. Very keen to hounds and a fine shot, Major Preston was one of the few survivors of the disaster to the York and Ainsty Hounds on February 4th, 1869, when Sir Charles Slingsley, the Master, and other members of the Hunt lost their lives through the capsizing of the ferry-boat on the River Ure.
Mr. John Arkwright, who was for many years Hon. Secretary to the North Warwickshire Hunt, died on February 12th at his residence, Hatton House, near Warwick, aged eighty-two years. Mr. Arkwright was presented with his portrait a number of years ago, when there was a great gathering of hunting men at Stoneleigh, and the late Lord Leigh made the presentation on behalf of the subscribers. The present Master of the North Warwickshire, Mr. J. P. Arkwright, is elder son of the deceased gentleman.
A veteran Irish sportsman has passed away in the person of Mr. Philip Blake, who died at his residence, Ladyrath House, Navan, aged eighty years. He was well known with the Meath and the Louth Hounds, and in the sixties was Master and owner of the Meath Union Harriers.
Some good prices for hunters have been obtained at the Leicester Repository. Lord Chesham sold three: Patrick, 160 gs.; Goodman, 170 gs.; and Dulcimer, 230 gs. Three sent up by Captain G. E. Belleville sold as follows: St. Maur, 210 gs.; Oatmeal, 185 gs., and Samuel, 150 gs. Mr. Alex. Browne, M.F.H., realised an average of £283 10s. for eleven hunters; The Dub, 600 gs.; Daly, 500 gs.; Silver Cloud, 400 gs.; Galway, 350 gs.; Ludlow, 260 gs.; Grantham, 200 gs.; Leicester, 175 gs.; The Chef, 160 gs.; Tinker, 130 gs.; Benjamin, 125 gs., and Jedburgh, 70 gs. Other properties included Bay g. 125 gs.; Hall Weston, 200 gs.; Lady Sissie, 120 gs.; Nimrod, 100 gs.; Princess Osra, 180 gs., and Buller, 110 gs.
Amongst the more important sales by Messrs. Tattersall at Albert Gate during the last few weeks may be mentioned: Mr. E. W. Bradbury’s Starlight, 105 gs.; Imperial, sent up by a lady, 130 gs.; Major Sherston’s bay, 110 gs. From Mr. H. Thompson, Crossgar, the following made three figures: Nine Pins, 100 gs.; Mullingar, 140 gs.; Gentleman, 105 gs.; The Stag, 120 gs.; Ebony, the property of Mr. J. Blackburn, realised 130 gs.
Owing to her great age and increasing infirmity, it was found necessary to destroy the famous old mare, Mowerina, at the Hunciecroft Paddocks, Welbeck. Herself and her children have won just over £87,000 in stakes, the offspring including Modwena and her brother Donovan, a very good horse indeed, who won £55,154 in two years’ racing. Mowerina’s daughter, Semolina, was a good early two-year-old; she won the Brocklesby Stakes; and Semolina’s brother, Raeburn, was the only horse to ever beat Isinglass, and is now in Hungary, having been purchased at the last Newmarket December Sales by Baron Harkanyi.
Harvester, by Sterling-Wheatear, who ran a dead heat with St. Gatien in the Derby of 1884, when the stakes were divided for the first time, recently died at the Zabola Stud, in Hungary. Bred by Lord Falmouth in 1881, Harvester won as a two-year-old the Thirty-sixth Triennial at Newmarket, and the Clearwell Stakes, and in the spring of 1884 was sold to Sir John Willoughby, for 8,000 gs.
Ship-building Surgery.—The steamship Forth, one of the Carron fleet running between London and Scotland for passenger and goods traffic, is at present laid up for an extraordinary operation which will lengthen the boat by 40 feet. She was hoisted on a large cradle and cut right through just forward of the bridge deck. The cradle was also sawn asunder, and the two parts with their respective portions of the ship were drawn apart to a distance of 40 feet, which space was then built in. The alteration will enable the Forth to carry about 200 tons more cargo, and her steaming capabilities will not be impaired. On the contrary she will now rank amongst the finest steamers on the East Coast.
TURF.
| MANCHESTER SECOND JANUARY. | |||
| January 17th.—The Manchester Handicap Steeplechase of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. C. Bower Ismay’s b. h. Theodocion, by Marcion—Minthe, aged, 12st. 3lb. | A. Newey | 1 | |
| Mr. C. R. Hodgson’s b. m. Do be Quick, 6 yrs., 11st. 13lb. | Mr. Payne | 2 | |
| Mr. A. Coats’ b. m. Felspar, 6 yrs., 11st. 6lb. | R. Cowe | 3 | |
| 3 to 1 agst. Theodocion. | |||
| January 18th.—The Cheshire Hurdle Race of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Sir Peter Walker’s b. g. St. Evremonde, by St. Frusquin—Ejector, 6 yrs., 11st. 11lb. | E. Sullivan | 1 | |
| Mr. J. Tait’s br. m. Adelia, 5 yrs., 10st, 11lb. | E. Driscoll | 2 | |
| Mr. F. Straker’s ch. m. Consequence, 6 yrs., 11st. 8lb. | M. Phelan | 3 | |
| 9 to 2 agst. St. Evremonde. | |||
| HURST PARK. | |||
| January 19th.—The New Year Handicap Hurdle Race of 150 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. A. Stedall’s b. g. Rassendyl, by Loved One—Princess, aged, 11st. 9lb. | J. Dillon | 1 | |
| Mr. H. Rich’s ch. g. Hopeless II., 6 yrs., 10st. 11lb. | G. Williamson | 2 | |
| Mr. E. Christie Miller’s br. h. St. John’s Wood, 6 yrs., 11st. | Mr. W. Bulteel | 3 | |
| 5 to 1 agst. Rassendyl. | |||
| January 20th.—The Middlesex Handicap Steeplechase of 150 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. P. Gleeson’s b. h. Lord of the Level, by Macheath—Mome d’Amour, 6 yrs., 11st. 8lb. | F. Mason | 1 | |
| Col. R. L. Birkin’s b. g. Springbok, 5yrs., 11st. 5lb. | Mr. R. Payne | 2 | |
| Mr. T. W. Blenkiron’s b. f. Queen’s Scholar, 5 yrs., 10st. 9lb. | J. Dillon | 3 | |
| 2 to 1 agst. Lord of the Level. | |||
| NOTTINGHAM JANUARY MEETING. | |||
| January 30th.—The Nottinghamshire Handicap Steeplechase of 400 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. J. Gordon Houghton’s b. g. Desert Chief, by Spahi—Genista, by Exminster, aged, 12st. 12lb. | R. Chadwick | 1 | |
| Mr. F. Bibby’s ch. h. Wild Boer, 6 yrs., 10st. 8lb. | F. Mason | 2 | |
| Mr. P. Cullinan’s b. m. Little May II., aged, 10st. 3lb. | Mr. Walker | 3 | |
| 13 to 8 on Desert Chief. | |||
| GATWICK SECOND JANUARY. | |||
| January 31st.—The Tantivy Steeplechase of 500 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. T. Clyde’s br. g. Sachem, by Noble Chieftain—Talavera, 5 yrs., 11st. 10lb. | J. O’Brien | 1 | |
| Sir Henry Randall’s b. c. Frisky Bill, 4 yrs., 10st. 10lb. | J. Dillon | 2 | |
| Prince Hatzfeldt’s ch. g. Rathvale, 5 yrs., 12st. 1lb. | W. Morgan | 3 | |
| 9 to 4 agst. Sachem. | |||
| The Surrey Steeplechase (Handicap) of 209 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. C. Hibbert’s b. h. Royal Rouge, by Florizel II—Red Enamel, aged, 11st. | J. Nightingall | 1 | |
| Prince Hatzfeldt’s b. g. Cossack Post, aged, 12st. 1lb. | Hon. A. Hastings | 2 | |
| C. T. Garland’s b. or br. m. Sudden Rise, 6yrs., 11st. 12lb. | W. Morgan | 3 | |
| 8 to 1 agst. Royal Rouge. | |||
| February 1st.—The Stewards’ Steeplechase Handicap of 200 sovs.; three miles and a half. | |||
| Mr. C. R. Hodgson’s b. m. Do be Quick, by Speed—Danska, 6 yrs., 12st. 1lb. | Mr. R. Payne | 1 | |
| Major M. H. Tristram’s Shaun Aboo, aged, 11st. 6lb. | Mr. W. Bulteel | 2 | |
| Prince Hatzfeldt’s Deerslayer, aged, 11st. 5lb. | Hon. A. Hastings | 3 | |
| 2 to 1 agst. Do be Quick. | |||
| The International Hurdle Race (Handicap) of 500 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. Thompson’s ch. h. Leviathan, by Isinglass—Galiana, aged, 11st. 12lb. | G. Wilson | 1 | |
| Mr. Robert Campbell’s ch. g. St. Enogat, aged, 10st. 9lb. | F. Mason | 2 | |
| Sir S. Scott’s b. g. Series, 6 yrs., 10st. 11lb. | H. Aylin | 3 | |
| 8 to 1 agst. Leviathan. | |||
| The Brook Hurdle Race of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Lord Londonderry’s b. g. St. Florentin, by St. Simon—Wise Flower, 4 yrs., 10st. | T. Fitton | 1 | |
| Mr. Edmund Lamb’s b. g. Ancaster, 6 yrs., 11st. | M. J. Harty | 2 | |
| Capt. F. Bald’s b. g. Rosebury, 5 yrs., 10st. 10lb. | F. Mason | 3 | |
| 9 to 4 agst. St. Florentin. | |||
| KEMPTON PARK. | |||
| February 2nd.—The Middlesex Hurdle Race of 500 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Sir Peter Walker’s b. f. Therapia, by Tarporley—Rosemount, 4 yrs. 10st. 4lb. | E. Sullivan | 1 | |
| Mr. F. W. Phillips’ ch. h. The Chair, 6 yrs., 11st. 11lb. | W. T. Morgan | 2 | |
| Mr. Imber’s b. h. Sandboy, 6 yrs., 11st. 11lb. | J. Hare | 3 | |
| 100 to 12 agst. Therapia. | |||
| February 3rd.—The Coventry Handicap Steeplechase of 500 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. J. S. Morrison’s b. g. John M.P., by Britannic—Guiding Star, aged, 12st. 2lb. | W. Taylor | 1 | |
| Mr. F. Bibby’s b. g. Comfit, aged, 11st. | F. Mason | 2 | |
| Capt. Michael Hughes’ b. g. Vaerdalen, 5 yrs., 11st. 8lb. | M. Harty | 3 | |
| 3 to 1 agst. John M.P. | |||
| SANDOWN PARK. | |||
| February 9th.—The Sandown Grand Prize of 300 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. A. Stedall’s b. g. Rassendyl, by Loved One—Princess, aged, 12st. 7lb. | J. Dillon | 1 | |
| Mr. W. J. Crook’s b. g. Henley, 5 yrs., 11st. 1lb. | L. Sherwood | 2 | |
| Mr. C. Bower Ismay’s Theodocion, aged, 11st. 4lb. | A. Newey | 3 | |
| 4 to 1 agst. Rassendyl. | |||
| The February Four-year-old Hurdle Race of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Sir H. Randall’s ch. g. Magic Lad, by Common—Grammarge, 10st. 10lb. | J. Nightingall | 1 | |
| Mr. R. Combe’s b. g. Cadwal, 10st, 10lb. | H. Aylin | 2 | |
| Major E. Loder’s b. c. Maggio, 10st. 2lb. | A. Anthony | 3 | |
| 100 to 12 agst. Magic Lad. | |||
| February 10th.—The Prince of Wales’s Steeplechase of 172 sovs.; three miles and a half. | |||
| Lord Sefton’s b. g. Canter Home, by Retreat—Canterbury, aged, 10st. 12lb. | E. Driscoll | 1 | |
| Mr. Hamilton Langley’s bl. g. Brian Born, aged, 11st. 1lb. | Mr. P. Whitaker | 2 | |
| 7 to 4 agst. Canter Home. | |||
| MANCHESTER FEBRUARY. | |||
| February 12th.—The February Handicap Steeplechase of 200 sovs.; three miles. | |||
| Mr. John Widger’s b. m. Northern Light IV., by Blairfinde—False Dawn, aged, 10st. 11lb. (car. 11st.) | Mr. J. Widger | 1 | |
| Sir Peter Walker’s bl. g. Royal Drake, aged, 12st. 41b. | E. Sullivan | 2 | |
| Mr. S. Pickering’s b. m. Johnstown Lass, aged, 10st. 10lb. | H. Aylin | 3 | |
| 7 to 4 agst. Northern Light IV. | |||
| The Broughton Hurdle Race (Handicap) of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. R. B. Henry’s ch. g. Moonstruck, by Massacre—Diana, 6 yrs., 11st. 10lb. | F. Mason | 1 | |
| Sir Peter Walker’s b. g. St. Evremonde, 6 yrs., 11st. 12lb. | E. Sullivan | 2 | |
| Mr. J. Croxton’s b. g. Rapt, 5 yrs., 10st. 9lb. | G. Knowles | 3 | |
| 9 to 4 agst. Moonstruck. | |||
| ROYAL WINDSOR FEBRUARY. | |||
| February 14th.—The Bracknell Handicap Hurdle Race of 200 sovs.; two miles. | |||
| Mr. E. J. Percy’s bl. f. Black Mingo, by Cherry Tree—Calista, 5 yrs., 10st. 2lb. | F. Mason | 1 | |
| Mr. A. Hamblin’s ch. c. Orison, 4 yrs., 10st. 5lb | A. Birch | 2 | |
| Major Joicey’s ch. h. Plum Pecker, 6 yrs., 10st. 1lb | E. Driscoll | 3 | |
| 6 to 1 agst. Black Mingo. | |||
| February 15th.—The Royal Handicap Steeplechase of 200 sovs.; three miles. | |||
| Mr. G. Auckland’s b. h. Drumkerrin, by Speed, dam by Castlereagh—Sister to Rufus, 6 yrs., 11st. | Mr. W. Bulteel | 1 | |
| Mr. F. White’s br. g. Shaun Dhuv, aged, 11st. 4lb. | E. Driscoll | 2 | |
| Mr. J. W. King’s ch. m. Countenance, aged, 10st. 3lb. | J. Simms | 3 | |
| 4 to 1 agst. Drumkerrin. | |||
FOOTBALL.
January 20th.—At Cambridge, the University v. London Scottish, latter won by 30 points to 8.*
January 20th.—At Richmond, Richmond v. Blackheath, latter won by a try to 0.*
January 22nd.—At Oxford, the University v. Woolwich Arsenal, latter won by 4 goals to 0.†
January 22nd.—At Leeds, North v. South, latter won by 2 goals to 0.†
January 24th.—At Oxford, the University v. Casuals, former won by 4 goals to 2.†
January 24th.—At Cambridge, the University v. Tottenham Hotspur, former won by 3 goals to 1.†
January 27th.—At Cambridge, the University v. Casuals, former won by 3 goals to 0.†
January 27th.—At Richmond, Richmond v. Oxford University, latter won by 4 goals to 2 goals 1 try.*
January 27th.—At Richmond, London Scottish v. Harlequins, former won by 2 tries to 1.*
January 27th.—At Cardiff, Cardiff v. Blackheath, former won by 2 goals 2 tries to 0.*
January 27th.—At Queen’s Club, Corinthians v. Oxford University, former won by 4 goals to 0.†
January 29th.—At Oxford, the University v. Oxford City, latter won by 3 goals to 2.†
January 31st.—At Oxford, the University v. Guy’s Hospital, former won by 16 points to 15.*
February 3rd.—At Oxford, the University v. Lennox, former won by 24 points to 9.*
February 3rd.—At Cardiff, Wales v. Scotland, former won by 9 points to 3.*
February 3rd.—At Queen’s Club, Corinthians v. Manchester City, former won by 4 goals to 1.†
February 3rd.—At Richmond, Richmond v. Cambridge University, latter won by 3 goals 3 tries to 1 try.*
February 3rd.—At Leyton, Old Reptonians v. Oxford University, latter won by 1 goal to 0.†
February 3rd.—At Blackheath, Blackheath v. Harlequins, former won by 2 goals 3 tries to 3 goals.*
February 3rd.—At Richmond, London Scottish v. London Welsh, latter won by 7 points to 0.*
February 5th.—At Oxford, the University v. The Navy, former won by 5 goals to 0.†
February 7th.—At Queen’s Club, Old Malvernians v. Oxford University, latter won by 7 goals to 0.†
February 10th.—At Leicester, England v. Ireland, latter won by 2 goals 2 tries to 2 tries.*
February 10th.—At Oxford, The University v. West Norwood, former won by 2 goals to 0.†
February 10th.—At Blackheath, Blackheath v. London Irish, former won by 1 goal 1 try to 1 try.*
February 10th.—At Cardiff, Cardiff v. Moseley, former won by 4 goals 4 tries to 0.*
February 10th.—At Richmond, Richmond v. Rosslyn Park, latter won by 1 goal 1 try to 1 try.*
February 12th.—At Cambridge, The University v. North of Ireland, former won by 6 placed goals 1 penalty goal and 4 tries to 0.*
January 30th.—At Monte Carlo, the Grande Poule d’Essai, Mr. H. Roberts won the gold medal, and divided first and second with Count Chiericati.
February 8th.—At Monte Carlo, the Grand Prix du Casino, Signor H. Grasselli won.
February 10th.—Mr. Greig won the Prix de Monte Carlo Handicap.
| DIARY FOR APRIL, 1906. | ||
|---|---|---|
| Day of Month. | Day of Week. | OCCURRENCES. |
| 1 | S | Fifth Sunday in Lent. |
| 2 | M | Warwick, Usk and Retford Hunt Races. |
| 3 | Tu | Warwick Races. |
| 4 | W | Newbury, Monmouth, Ipswich, North Warwickshire Races. and Melton Hunt Races. |
| 5 | Th | Newbury, Monmouth, Croxton Park and Eglinton Hunt Races. |
| 6 | F | Derby Spring, Hooton Park, Banbury and Eglinton Hunt Races. |
| 7 | S | Derby Spring, Hooton Park and Eglinton Hunt Races. |
| 8 | S | Palm Sunday. |
| 9 | M | Nottingham, Hawthorn Hill and Folkestone Races. |
| 10 | Tu | Nottingham and Hawthorn Hill Races. |
| 11 | W | Leicester Spring, Maiden Erlegh and Grindon Hunt Races. |
| 12 | Th | Leicester Spring Races. |
| 13 | F | Good Friday. |
| 14 | S | Plumpton Races. |
| 15 | S | Easter Sunday. |
| 16 | M | Manchester, Cardiff, Torquay, Newcastle Spring, Portsmouth Park, Kempton Park, Hamilton Pk., Birmingham, Market Rasen and Herefordshire Hunt Races. |
| 17 | Tu | Manchester, Cardiff, Torquay and Wolverhampton Races. Royal Dublin Society’s Spring Show, Balls Bridge (4 days). |
| 18 | W | Newmarket Craven and Brocklesby Hunt Races. |
| 19 | Th | Newmarket Craven, Catterick Bridge, Cowbridge and Hambledon Hunt Races. |
| 20 | F | Newmarket Craven, Catterick Bridge and Royal Artillery (Aldershot) Races. |
| 21 | S | Alexandra Park Races. Football Association Cup (final). |
| 22 | S | First Sunday after Easter (Low Sunday). |
| 23 | M | Southdown Hunt and Quorn Hunt Races. |
| 24 | Tu | Epsom Spring, Bungay, Bridgnorth and United Border Hunt Races. |
| 25 | W | Epsom Spring, Bungay, Pontefract and Northumberland Hunt Races. |
| 26 | Th | Sandown Park, Pontefract and Ludlow Park Races. |
| 27 | F | Sandown Park, Ludlow Park and Stockton Races. |
| 28 | S | Sandown Park and Stockton Races. |
| 29 | S | Second Sunday after Easter. |
| 30 | M | Lingfield, Hawthorn Hill and Midland Hunt (Nottingham) Races. |
Early Carriages and Roads
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Animal Painters of England
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ELLIOTT & FRY PHOTO. HOWARD & JONES, COLL.
