HUNTING.

The past month will be remembered by hunting people for the number of

long, well-sustained hunts that have taken place. Almost any one of them

would be entitled to take a place among the historic runs recorded from

time to time in BAILY. The most remarkable was the run of the Albrighton

on Saturday, December 30th. It will be remembered that this well-known

Staffordshire hunt started the season with a new master, Lieut.-Colonel

Goulburn, and a new huntsman, Morris, who had been first whipper-in,

under Tom Bishopp, with the Grafton, and had succeeded the latter as

huntsman. The fixture was at Dudmaston, in the Bridgnorth district. This

is a meet which attracts few, for one of the last lessons we learn in

hunting is that it is better to go to meets, good or bad by reputation,

if you have a horse fit to go. We never know where or when the great run

will come off. The first fox went down to the Severn and swam across.

The next fox, after a much longer hunt, also ran down to the Severn,

near Apley Park, which river here divides the Albrighton from the

Wheatland country. Without hesitation he entered the river and, followed

by the pack, swam across. This of course threw out the huntsmen and

field, but they found a bridge, and Morris got to his hounds in time, by

a judicious cast, to hit off the line. Not without checks and

difficulty, but with hounds and huntsman working well, the line was kept

until at last darkness set in, and after two hours and a half hounds had

to be stopped.

The coming change in the Blankney Hunt is a matter of rejoicing, because

once more a Bentinck will be connected with a hunt which Lord Henry

Bentinck did so much for. Readers of BAILY who will turn back to their

old volumes will learn easily how much. Then Lord Charles Bentinck, who

is to become huntsman and joint master, is a well-known soldier and polo

player. He was one of the team of the 9th Lancers, in their best days a

most brilliant regimental team. Lord Charles will no doubt make a good

huntsman, and keep up the Blankney record of sport over what is probably

the best scenting and perhaps the stiffest country in Lincolnshire. On

the other hand, I am sorry that it should displace an excellent hunt

servant and old friend in George Shepherd, who, under three masters, has

done so well. It is not likely, however, that so good a huntsman will be

long in want of a situation. He is one of those instances where a

first-rate whipper-in has made an excellent huntsman.

Among the packs that have had noteworthy runs must be included the

Heythrop. Theirs took place on Friday, December 22nd. They met at New

Barn, and found at once. In the Bourton Vale hounds ran well. The scent,

though not burning, was holding, and hounds worked out the line without

much help. The finish was a kill in Bruern Wood after a fine hunt of two

hours and a quarter. The distance from point to point is ten miles, but

hounds must have covered fifteen miles or more. Captain Daly, Mr. and

Mrs. Cecil Lord, and Major Scott were among those who saw it all.

As I write the news reaches me that the North Cotswold have found a

master. This country, of course, is neighbour to the Heythrop. Mr.

McNeill’s successor is Sir John Hume Campbell, at present Master of the

Ormond, where he has not found that foxes are preserved as they ought to

be. In the North Cotswold there is nothing to be desired. Sir John

intends to hunt the hounds himself. It is not stated whether Mr.

McNeill’s wonderful pack of Belvoir-bred bitches will be kept in the

country, but no doubt this will be the case. Masters are not scarce, for

there were no less than twenty-two candidates.

Melton condition seldom fails to carry the sportsman to the end of the

day, but on Monday, January 8th, the Quorn, having met at Nether

Broughton, hounds led them such a dance in the Belvoir Vale that many

horses could not reach the end. No doubt the going was heavy, for there

has been a fall of rain which has made up for the drought. In Welby

Osier Beds they found their fox, and this covert is a key to the best of

the Belvoir. At Bescaby Oaks, the traditional first draw of the Belvoir

on the opening day, the fox saved his brush.

Even more remarkable was the run the Woodland Pytchley had on January

8th. The big woods of this country are divided by grass fields and big

fences, and it always seems to me that to be practicable at all there

are no more formidable fences than some of the boundary fences of this

country. During the early months of the year, in a well-preserved

country with strong coverts, foxes are on the move, and a stout

travelling woodland fox takes a great deal of killing, even with that

sharp pack of bitches which Tom Carr handles so well. Hounds ran two

wide rings from Carlton Wood, and then perhaps with a fresh fox hunted

on to Desbrough. Had there been a kill, this run would have been perfect

in its way. In any case, it adds one more to the many old-fashioned runs

we have to tell of this month.

To this must be added the run of the Blankney also on January 8th, which

was one of the days that have provided a good scent in many countries.

Mr. Edgar Lubbock took his hounds, by Sir Gilbert Greenall’s invitation,

to Aswarby. Sir George Whichcote is such a careful fox preserver that

the Belvoir, with their wide extent of country, cannot come often

enough. It was a gallant old customer that they found in one of the

plantations. The line was very straight, and that they travelled a

nine-mile point in fifty minutes shows that the pace was more than

ordinarily good.

No country has, without adding to our list of historic runs, had a

better average season than the Atherstone under Mr. Munro and Whitemore.

But for a long and sustained chase ending with a kill the palm must be

awarded to the Fitzwilliam at Tillbrook. The bitch pack dropped on to an

out-lier. Starting close to his brush, the pack settled to hunt at a

fair pace, and, best of all, never left the line till they reached

Barnwell Wood, through which good scenting covert hounds ran furiously

for blood, and were not long in catching their fox. This was one of

those runs not too fast for the horses, with no checks, and hounds doing

their own with lots of drive and merry music, that keep up one’s love

for foxhunting.

Still another long and good run is to hand. There are people who tell

me, and I can well believe it, that Dursley is an admirable centre.

Indeed, many West country people migrate thither after Christmas in

search of sport, and are seldom disappointed.

The Fitzhardinge, meeting on January 9th, at Empney, on the

Gloucestershire side of their country, drew Monkshill, and found a fox

which within a radius of five or six miles knew a lot of country. He

stood up for two hours. Several times hounds went very fast, and the fox

was kept moving the whole time. Nevertheless, he beat them after all,

fairly running hounds out of scent. Then came a bright scurry; but

perhaps it is on a working day the Fitzhardinge pack are seen to the

best advantage. No “sleeping partners of the chase” are allowed in the

Berkeley Castle kennels.

Foxes and stags choose strange refuges, and this month has seen a fox

found on a lime-kiln and in a coal-hole; a stag was hunted through the

streets of Lancaster town. This season I saw a fox run up a lane on the

road, spring on to the bank, and double back along the top of the bank,

and lie down in the hedgerow. Naturally the hounds hit it off in the

lane, and running up some distance, were then cast on either side of the

road, but of course without effect. It was late in the day, and the

Master had actually started for home, when some one saw the fox, which,

however, deserved to escape.

No pack has had a better season on the average than the Duke of

Beaufort’s. Their country always seems to me to hold a scent well, and

the Duke and his huntsman are such masters of the science of hunting

that it is a pleasure to see them handle hounds. Though the day in

question, January 6th, at Hullavington, afforded nothing extraordinary,

yet if every day we could hunt over a line as pleasant and varied as

this side of the Duke’s country we should have nothing to complain of.

Foxes, too, are always plentiful, and the more I hunt and the more

experience of different countries I have, the more fully do I appreciate

Beckford’s wisdom in liking plenty of foxes.

I suppose that the present season will be looked back on by the

followers of the three staghound packs in the West as one of the best

hind-hunting seasons on record. In the first place, the inclement

weather which often makes hunting on Exmoor in the winter months a

doubtful pleasure has this year not been endured. A few days of frost, a

few of fog, and some wet days, but on the whole the weather and the

scent have been in favour of the hounds, and hounds have run very

straight. That is, they have made good points, but a red deer hind

generally runs a ring or two, and then just when you think she is beaten

away she goes straight and hard as if she never meant to stop. Mr.

Stanley’s hounds, meeting by invitation of the Devon and Somerset at

Slowley Wood, on Saturday, December 30th, had a run which was remarkable

for straightness and pace. It lasted about three hours. There is always

some preliminary work with a hind. Much depends on whether hounds can be

kept at her. This one had little peace. She was found in the open, and

about half an hour later the Master sent for the pack. He was enabled to

steal a march by lifting hounds into the Avill valley, where they took

up the line by the well-known farmhouse, and at once climbed the hill at

its steepest part. Going up with them one lost ground, as they ran well

and straight into a linhay behind Alcombe Village. This seemed to be the

end, but some excited lads frightened the hind out. She dashed right

through the pack and then went straight away for Dunkery Beacon. Those

who had ridden the run had been galloping hard for two hours, and horses

climbed the steep sides slowly: far more quickly did hounds reach the

top. Three-quarters of an hour later this hind soiled in the stream at

Nutscale and, unable to leave it, was killed. The first point to Alcombe

was five miles, the second about seven, and the hind travelled quite

twice as far to make her points. Allowing for the turns, though the pace

was very good, hounds hunted beautifully, and every one was up at the

finish. Perhaps even more remarkable was the run of January.

The Devon and Somerset met on Thursday, January 11th, at Heathpoult—a

geographical expression—near the famous coverts of Throatcombe and

Chargot. Three hinds were roused, and one was quickly singled out. From

that moment till the hind was killed hounds hunted continuously. It was

an exceedingly fine performance on the part of the hounds and huntsman.

About eight couple of tufters were out, and on these fell most of the

work. One incident showing the control of the huntsman over his hounds

and what can be done to make foxhounds handy. These hounds, be it

remembered, are big doghounds with a few large bitches. Now doghounds,

as we all know, are apt to be self-willed and headstrong. I may also

note that the heel-line of a red deer is often very tempting. Well, the

huntsman was on one side of a valley, and the hounds were working on the

other, when two or three couple hit the heel-line and threw their

tongues eagerly. “Ware heel,” said the huntsman, naming the hounds. They

stopped, looked across, and as if seeing it was their huntsman, left the

heel-line and drove forward, and picked up the line of their quarry

which had gone on. Once again the huntsman delighted me when hounds

divided, by going to fetch those running on the fresh line. He saved the

situation in a most difficult place. After a long, interesting and

intricate hunt, we at last emerged on the heather, and for some miles

stretched over the heather as far as Exford Common. Twice the hind took

refuge among other deer, and each time she was driven out.

Then at the nick of time the Master (Mr. Greig) brought up the pack, and

we had a glorious gallop right back to Annicombe. Then away to

Cloutsham, and then the whole length of Horner to the mill; then up over

the hill and across the valley to West Luccombe, where hounds took their

deer. We ran from about 10.30 to 2. Besides the Master and hunt

servants, only three of those who had started from Heathpoult were

present. Several joined us by the way, and some good and true followers

were left on Dunkery. The pace was good at times, but formed an

intricate piece of hound-work, and an example of how handy foxhounds can

be made, and how they can hold to the line of their quarry; for we saw

at least thirty other deer on the way. With this run may be compared the

very fine bit of hound-work displayed by the Cottesmore when they met at

Luffenham. Thatcher is another huntsman who has made his big doghounds

as handy as beagles.

I believe with these the whole secret is personal attachment to the man

who hunts. Self-willed and sulky if knocked about or rated, a dog-hound

will do anything for the man he loves.

The Cottesmore ran from Luffenham, though in the first place a hunt for

the lover hounds, was not without interest for the riding man, since the

line lay over that wild and delightful tract of the Cottesmore country

which lies round Wing and Manton. From field to field hounds hunted,

always working forward, always on the line, ever drawing nearer to their

fox. If the fox regulates his pace, as I believe he does, by the

strength of the chorus behind him, this fox could have had but little

rest, as the sustained roar of the pack told him that they were

relentlessly pursuing. The end came at Glaston Gorse, when a thoroughly

wearied fox succumbed at last to the pack. During the past

week—Thursday, January 11th—the Cottesmore and Mr. Fernie’s hounds met

at East Norton, which is on the border of the two countries. Charles

Isaac, Mr. Fernie’s huntsman, handled the combined packs, with his late

whipper-in, Thatcher, of Cottesmore, to help him.

In consequence of the prolonged ill-health of Mr. C. E. Green, the

Committee of the Essex Hunt have decided to seek a new Master, and the

following advertisement has appeared in the papers: “As a Master will be

required for the Essex Hunt at the end of the season, any gentleman

wishing to offer himself as Master is invited to apply to the Hon.

Secretary, Mr. A. Waters, Coopersale Lodge, Epping, Essex.”