THE WAR AND THE FINAL TRIUMPH.
When the war cloud broke over Europe in the summer of 1914 the E.C.H.
was in a very flourishing condition. During the season 1913-14 38 hares
had been killed, which remains a record for the pack. There was every
prospect of a good year to follow, especially as R. D. Crossman was to
have stayed till the end of the Easter Half, and he had already hunted
the hounds with considerable success.
But all this was changed. Crossman and R. W. G. Dill, his first whip,
both got commissions. They left at Christmas. Crossman closed the Journal
Book in the following way:
“I think it is rather hard luck on Dill and myself having to leave, but
country comes even before hunting, and I only hope this infernal war will
end soon.”
He went out to fight and was killed. His whip Dill went right through the
War but emerged unhurt. Few more promising hound men ever existed than R.
D. Crossman, but, like many another, he gave up everything to serve his
country.
G. G. Cox-Cox, Crossman’s second whip, stayed until Christmas 1915, and
was succeeded by W. A. D. Eley in the Easter Half. Both the seasons
1914-15 and 1915-16 were fairly successful, though in the latter only
nine hares were killed. The war-time conditions were of course very
difficult. Little breeding took place, and consequently the pack
decreased in size. The food also was inferior; but Champion always had
the hounds fit and ready for work. Owing to the E.C.O.T.C. parading every
Thursday the beagles were only able to hunt two days a week in the Easter
Half.
During a hunt about this time a very promising young bitch was killed on
the railway line close to Remenham. I mention this because it has been
my misfortune on the very day I am writing this to see for the first
(and I hope the last) time a hound run over by a train. The accident was
unavoidable. All the whips were 300 yards behind and the train came out
of a mist. Poor Ranter was cut in two, and it was a miracle that the
whole pack was not destroyed. From time to time these accidents have
occurred, especially often at this place (on the bridge at Remenham), and
future Masters will do well when hunting this part of the country to have
several fellows always on the line, because hares invariably cross it.
Mr. A. Knowles, first whip in Easter Half 1915, has supplied me with the
following information:
“As far as I can remember the Prince of Wales came out with us twice
during the Michaelmas Half of 1914. Once a meet at the Sanatorium and
once at the Queen’s Head, Bray. If there is no note of it in the Beagle
Book Champion will remember the details. In the Easter Half of either
1914 or 1915, from a meet at Datchet, we got mixed up with the Windsor
Drag. The hare crossed the line of the drag. Some of the drag hounds
continued with the beagles, and I think that an odd couple or so of the
beagles joined the drag hunt. Anyhow I remember shutting up about three
couple of the drag hounds in Datchet on the way back to kennels in the
evening, and sending a message for them to be fetched.
“In 1912 there was a very good hunt, which ended with the hare swimming
out and drowning in a reservoir at Staines. Another time I remember
having a good hunt somewhere in the neighbourhood of Ditton. We lost the
hare in a garden, and found her eventually in a basement cellar. I think
that was in 1914 Easter Half, but I am not certain. I hunted hounds one
day Easter 1915, meeting at the ‘Prince of Wales’ on the Slough Road.
We found immediately, circled round by Butts back to the ‘Prince of
Wales’ field, then the hare ran the Slough Road to the ‘Burning Bush,’
down Common Lane to the Drill Hall, and was picked up ‘stone cold’ by
some Coldstream Guardsmen who were having a lesson in map reading by
the bridge over Jordan. Of course the hare was lost, as far as we were
concerned, because I was not informed of her fate until too late.
“In 1913 Michaelmas Half, from a meet at the Sanatorium, the hare ran up
the Racket Court field (next to Walpole House) from South Meadow and was
killed in the garden of Booker’s House opposite the old Fives Courts.”
To all who admire and follow the career of the Prince of Wales it will
be of interest to know what is written of him in the Journal Book by R.
D. Crossman. There had been a splendid hunt of 1 hour 5 minutes when the
hare had squatted. It was, however, 20 minutes before she was put up and
killed.
“The Prince of Wales was again with us, and he runs really well. He
thoroughly enjoys every bit of sport, and is always willing to turn
hounds, etc. It was he who spotted our last hare squatting, after at
least five of us had walked over her.”
In the Michaelmas Half of 1916 R. F. Goad hunted hounds, and was
succeeded at Christmas by H. K. M. Kindersley, whom I vaguely remember
nearly tripping me up in the High Street when he was in “Pop” and
intended to fag me in the street. One day during his Mastership two
hares, which were running together in front of hounds, were both killed
by an express train near Burnham station. After the season, which was not
a particularly good one, only 12 hares being killed in 21 hunting days,
the hounds were all walked by various people. Champion went to work on
the land at a neighbouring farm.
They were collected again at the kennels at the beginning of the
Michaelmas Half, 1917, after a great deal of correspondence. Many of them
were terribly fat, and it was greatly to Champion’s credit that he got
them fit for hunting at all. Not only this, but up to Christmas they had
quite a successful season under the Mastership of S. A. Parker. Parker’s
third whip, the Marquess of Worcester, was also Keeper of the Fives
Courts. He now hunts his own pack of foxhounds in the Badminton country
on the Wilts and Gloucester border. His father, the Duke of Beaufort, was
a keen follower in the sixties.
At Christmas the hounds were definitely dispersed. It was, in the
opinion of many, a great mistake, as probably they could have been kept
up cheaper at Eton than by various people who kindly consented to walk
couples. The Rev. C. A. Alington, who had succeeded Canon Lyttelton as
Head Master in January 1916, wrote to the Food Controller for his advice
and instructions, and in consequence the pack was disbanded.
There was even some talk of Champion leaving and of getting up a
subscription for him. As Parker has said in the Journal Book, there would
have been no lack of subscribers. Fortunately, however, for the hunt,
Champion did not leave, but remained until the hounds were restarted in
December 1919.
Immediately after the War was over there were many letters to the _Eton
College Chronicle_, demanding that the beagles should be restored. O.E.’s
from every part of the country wanted to know the real state of things.
It shows how much the E.C.H. was held in esteem that so many, who had
ceased from taking any active part in the administration of the College,
should have realised that the restitution of hunting at Eton was a thing
highly desirable in itself and in its result.
The first of these letters appeared in the _Chronicle_ of Dec. 5th, 1918.
It ran as follows:
“Dear Sir,—Now that hostilities have ceased ought not the Eton
Beagles to be got together and start hunting once more? If
steps were taken at once to collect the hounds (which are now
out at walk) the School would have occupation and exercise next
Half.
“Very few boys have had much chance to learn anything about the
sport of kings during the War, and the Eton Beagles have always
been the nursery of a large number of Masters of hounds in this
country.
“Yours truly,
“THREE EX-MASTERS AND TWO EX-WHIPS OF THE E.C.H.”
This was answered by the Master, E. V. Rhys, in a letter in which he
stated that after a long discussion it had been decided not to hunt owing
(i) To the expense of food, etc.;
(ii) To the Cippenham works and their possible effect on the
E.C.H.
During the Michaelmas Half 1919 J. F. de Sales La Terrière took the
matter in hand, and he may now have the satisfaction of knowing that it
was entirely due to him that the E.C.H. has again been set on its legs.
He confronted the Head Master on several occasions and eventually secured
his permission to collect the hounds. Circulars had been sent to all the
farmers, and practically no unfavourable replies had been received. The
Head Master made three stipulations: that the Hunt must not be subsidized
from outside, that no Lower Boys should run, and that hunting should
close on March 20th.
Experience has subsequently proved that the Slough Motor Dépôt has not by
any means spoiled the hunting country of the E.C.H. True it has had the
effect of putting an end to hunting in the Salt Hill country, but many
old Masters have expressed their opinion that they would never willingly
have hunted there at all owing to the danger of the railway to hounds.
La Terrière had to surmount many difficulties in his work of getting the
hounds back. He has told the story in his own words in the Journal Book:
“As we were in a muzzled area, I went down to the Police Station to find
out if there were any restrictions about hunting. They were decidedly
vague about the whole affair, but advised me to write to the Board of
Agriculture and Fisheries to find out if a permit was necessary or not.
This I did, and on receiving no answer from them I got leave to go up to
Town and stir them up a bit. When I got there I was told that I could
collect the hounds from unmuzzled areas, but as we were in a special area
we were on no account to hunt them.
“This at first seemed to be the final stroke of bad luck against the
hunt, and at that time there was apparently no chance of restarting them
in the Easter Half, owing to the fact that there would be no person
left who knew anything about the country. But nothing daunted I decided
to collect the pack here, because, if the muzzling order came off in
January, as was expected, they would be ready for hunting.
“When I started to collect them, I discovered that I could only get
very few here owing to the accursed muzzling order, and also to certain
unaccountable circumstances. ‘Bellman,’ ‘Cautious’ and ‘Comrade’ were
in muzzled areas and could not be shifted. ‘Bruiser’ had died a natural
death. Mrs. Barnard had knocked ‘Spinster’ on the head, as she had grown
too old and fat. The hound ‘Rambler,’ which had been adopted by Champion
in 1916, walked away as curiously as he had come. But the final blow came
when I heard that a boy, Gage, had sent out to Germany both ‘Caroline’
and ‘Grappler,’ as he thought the E.C.H. had finally stopped. This
naturally reduced the pack considerably, and, had it not been for the
kindness of Mr. St. George, we could never have hoped to carry on. Mr.
St. George, whose son was killed in France, and had been a whip in 1912,
presented the hunt with two young couple by ‘Whitby’ out of ‘Melody,’
both of which had formerly belonged to the E.C.H. and had been given to
him. If these shape as well in the field as they do in the kennels, we
ought to be able to carry on till better times come.
“‘Havvy’ (the late Mr. R. S. de Havilland) managed to persuade Glyn to
stay on for one more Half so as to be Master. He is the last of the old
stagers. I mean by that that he is the last person who was noticeable
before the hounds were stopped in 1917. I wish him the best of luck,
though I fear he will have a tough job. _Floreant canes Etonenses._”
And so, in the following January, some two hundred Etonians were once
more treated to the delights of beagling after a lapse of three years
since Parker hunted the E.C.H. It was not a good season so far as regards
kills. How could it have been with only seven couples of old hounds in
the kennels? But some wonderfully good runs were provided, and I remember
after one good day returning an hour and three-quarters late for lock-up.
F. M. G. Glyn, the Master, was a good runner, and beagling became very
popular. Only three hares were killed in all, two of them on one day. The
first of these was killed in the boys’ part of Mr. Marten’s house, to the
immense delight of the owner. Another hare was killed in a garden close
to Chalvey Grove, and I remember an old woman trying to sweep hounds away
with a broomstick.
Here I will give the personal reminiscences of T. C. Barnett-Barker,
Master in the season 1919-20, which will bring us right up to date, and
will describe better than any words of mine the final triumph of hunting
at Eton and the situation of beagling to-day.
“During my first two years at Eton (1915 and 1916) I was a Lower Boy.
To a Lower Boy beagling is generally forbidden, and consequently only
rumours reached me about the beagles. Once or twice I was fagged to
kennels, but I only took a furtive glance at the hounds.
“My third year, when the customary notice came round asking for the names
of prospective beaglers, I decided to make the experiment. This decision
was not made without a feeling of misgiving, as I thought it more a sport
for my elders and betters, because in those days all the ‘celebrities’
beagled, or so it seemed to me at the time. Some of my friends took me to
the first meet, and I remember being haunted by the childish yet awful
idea that I might do something wrong. However, one soon learnt there was
not much time for doing wrong, the only necessity being to try to keep up
with hounds.
“Vaguely I remember struggling and inwardly praying for a check. When at
last I did catch up, it was generally time to go home, unless one wished
to violate the laws of lock-up. As yet I was not one of those ‘bravos’
who cared little for their tutors and lock-up, yet inwardly admiring
them and longing to be one of them. And so it was that with persistent
regularity I used to reach my house just as the lock-up bells broke out.
“The after-sensations of a day’s beagling are hard to describe, but
all who beagle with a true heart know the infinite joy of sitting in a
comfortable armchair by a warm fire just ‘thinking it over.’
“Before the end of my first season I had made friends with the kennel
huntsman, of whom more hereafter, and even began to criticise inwardly
the Master and whips, so conceited was I.
“Mentioning whips, I remember one day, when nearly all the field had gone
home after a poor day, we found a hare which took us a two mile point
before we checked. When I arrived on the scene I remember the Master
saying, ‘Congratulations, you may have your whips.’ From that day the
height of my ambition at Eton was fixed.
“The War was now in full swing, and the authorities bowed to the demands
for economy by demanding that the pack should be disbanded, or, more
accurately, sent out to walk. It was not for me to criticise, but it was
never quite clear to me how economy was effected, all that happened being
that the hounds were overfed individually instead of being economically
fed as a pack.
“During this awful period I often used to walk to the forsaken kennels on
Sunday and ‘talk hunting’ with Champion, the huntsman. At last the War
was over, and before long the survivors of the old field began to talk
about reassembling the pack.
“At first every one seemed against it, though probably this was more
fancy than fact. Old Etonians were not silent on our behalf: they signed
petitions, wrote letters, and in fact did all they could do. Probably it
all helped, and the Head Master met them half-way, and said his decision
would rest on the goodwill of the farmers, which he proposed to ascertain
by sending a letter to each of those over whose ground we normally hunted.
“The result of those letters was that 97% of the farmers were not only
willing but anxious to have the beagles back. It was not until it fell to
my lot to visit these farmers, as representative of the E.C.H., that I
quite realised the reason for so much generosity on their part.
“The next difficulty was to find a suitable Master. Several enterprising
individuals offered their services, and finally a Master was chosen from
amongst the few left who had been at all conspicuous in the old field.
“Just as things looked brighter, and five couples of old hounds had been
collected, we were put in the Rabies area, and only by the individual
efforts of my predecessors did we finally get a permit to hunt. The first
official hunt was a surprise to every one; the surprise being the field,
it seemed as if all Eton had turned out, in reality about 400. Of these
400 nearly all were what, for want of a better term, I got to know as the
‘Middle Class.’ By this term ‘Middle Class’ I mean neither the very small
nor the very big, and all celebrities were conspicuous by their absence.
This gave me extreme satisfaction, for I felt that all who were out were
out to see the sport, and not to disport before their humbler brethren.
[Illustration: T. C. BARNETT-BARKER’S YEAR. 1920-21.]
“Cutting the story short, we had runs which would do credit to any five
couple of old hounds, but somewhat naturally we could not kill, and the
result was that the field dwindled, until only the keenest were left.
“Near the close of the season I was made third whip. My summer was spent
in selfishly hoping the other whips would leave before next season, which
they most kindly did do, and I entered the winter (1920) as Master.
“Thanks to the kindness of certain benefactors and by dint of judicious
buying, we now had 13 couples of hounds, and my hopes rose accordingly.
“I soon found in Mr. R. S. de Havilland, the Treasurer, the kindest and
most sympathetic supporter. He gave me the impression that, whatever
might go wrong and whatever every one else thought, he would always be on
my side and ready to back the beagles against any one. From him I soon
mastered what I might call the ‘etiquette’ of the hunt, and all the small
delicacies which surrounded it.
“The practical side came from another quarter, and in the shape of none
other than the renowned kennelman, Champion. He is probably one of the
most delightful and certainly the most entertaining character I came
across. Many a day I used to go up to kennels to listen to him tell
stories. The seriousness which accompanied the most obvious remarks was
a continual source of delight. A riddle of his about the Mayor of Cork I
shall never forget, but unfortunately it was quite unrepeatable.
“No one could pass old Champion without an allusion to his family. At
present they number four, and include himself, his wife, a son and a
small daughter. No one could be more obliging and kind-hearted than Mrs.
Champion, always ready to offer you a seat by a warm fire, and in fact
to do those hundred and one things that ‘always count.’ As to George, I
remember him before the War stopped us, when, though far younger than any
of us, he used to keep going all day and never give in; after the War he
seemed almost grown up and became like an auxiliary whip to me, his help
at times being quite indispensable. He could run and keep up better than
our best, and none of us were keener sportsmen. Lastly, though only a
T.Y.O. filly, the youngest member already knows all the hounds by name,
and they certainly all know her, willingly offering their backs for a
ride.
“Well, to leave this wonderful family I go back to where we found them.
I soon learnt from Champion my first duty was to visit all the farmers
over whose land we hunted, some thirty in all.
“Starting with those near home, I at once discovered a most agreeable
fact, for they were all so kind and generous that I soon realised why it
was that only 3% had any objection to us restarting after the War. One
day I am going to farm myself, so we had a good ground for conversation
that helped to break the ice after an informal introduction. It was then
that I got to know them, and knowing them meant liking them.
“I cannot pay these farmers a greater tribute than to say that no one of
them ever showed me anything but the greatest civility and kindness. Of
course, some pointed out perfectly legitimate annoyances, but they never
showed any bitterness in expressing them. It is with a certain feeling of
bitterness that one realises that all we give in return to these farmers,
who offer their crops to trample and hedges to break, is a brace of
pheasants and a hare if they are lucky.
“Of course I could fill a book with accounts of our sport that winter,
but I must confine myself to a few remarks. Any success we had when I was
Master was not due in any degree to me, but to the hounds. I believe all
the joy of beagling, and its value as a sport, is to watch the hounds
work, and with a good pack the less the Master interferes the better, and
then only when the hounds seem to look to him for help. Of course I am
prejudiced, but our pack seemed to me close on perfection by the time we
reached the Easter Half: steady, obedient and fast; to watch them spread
like a fan at a check and then a whimper (no babblers, mind!), and all
the pack were away again raising their enchanting song.
“I never wanted a show pack; what I wanted were good noses, good bone,
good feet. Noses they certainly had, and the way the eight season bitches
stayed was enough indication of bone and feet. We try to keep the pack
between 14½ inches and 15½ inches, as this will give a pace which allows
all to see a good share of the run, and it also allows one to kill hares,
and, since all packs seemed to be judged (in my opinion quite wrongly)
by the number of hares they kill, it follows you must have speed in your
pack. This is especially the case when hares are too numerous, and unless
you press your hare continually a change is inevitable.
“Before finishing I should like to add a word about the rumour which at
one time was rampant, that half the beaglers spent their time in smoking
and other divers amusements. All I can say is that, whatever foundations
there were for starting the rumour (it started long before my time),
there is certainly very little reason for going on with it.
“The popularity of beagling amongst Masters, boys, farmers, and even
outsiders, is very fast on the increase, and may beagling at Eton one day
fulfil my most extravagant dreams, for I assure you there is no better
training for mind and body to be got anywhere for the modest sum of two
pounds.”[10]
To T. C. Barnett-Barker it is impossible to render sufficient praise.
His interest in the E.C.H. was whole-hearted. He was not a great
runner. He had not a particularly good hound voice. But nevertheless,
his perseverance and keenness overcame everything, and he provided
the only thing necessary to render beagling at Eton as popular as it
has ever been, a really good season. To kill 36 hares in 49 hunting
days with a pack consisting largely of eight season hounds is a
great achievement.[11] But this is what he did, and now it will be
comparatively easy for future Masters to continue showing good sport.
During Barnett-Barker’s Mastership Mr. R. S. de Havilland, who had filled
the post of Treasurer since 1899, expressed his intention of resigning.
He was presented with an illuminated address by the hunt. I have already
mentioned how much he had done for the beagles. His death has caused a
vacancy at Eton which it is impossible to refill, and the E.C.H. has lost
its best friend. No stauncher supporter ever existed. _Requiescat in
pace._
Mr. E. V. Slater has taken on the duties of Treasurer, and has already
proved himself to be a worthy successor to his great predecessor.
And what of Champion? Or should I say of the Champions, for the family
now consists of four? Champion married in 1903, and the family besides
himself are his wife, than who no kinder or more courteous woman ever
existed, his son George, who with the blood of so many huntsmen in his
veins is certain to prove his worth, and who is already showing that
he is inheriting his father’s knowledge and love of hounds, and his
five-year-old daughter Marjory, to whom the hounds are always ready to
lend their backs for a ride. Those readers who have ever had the pleasure
of knowing Champion will be pleased to hear that he ran third in the
veterans’ race at the police sports at Aylesbury, and could have been
first, only he went for the third prize, a spacious and very comfortable
walnut chair.
During this Michaelmas Half, season 1921-2, the hounds have shown very
fair sport, in spite of an execrable scent on dry hard land, and have
killed eleven hares. Thanks to the very kind loan of six couples of
hounds by Capt. E. C. Portman, the pack is well up to the standard of
last year’s, and every one can look forward with optimism to the future.
How can I end this history more appropriately than by the words which
have closed every season’s beagling in the Journal Book for the last
twenty years, and portray the hopes of any one who has ever hunted with
the E.C.H.?
_FLOREANT CANES ETONENSES._
[Illustration: THE KILL.]
[Illustration: MAP OF COUNTRY HUNTED BY E.C.H.]
[Illustration]
PART II.
CHAPTER I.
HARES.
_By Major Arthur T. Fisher._
It would be indeed regrettable if our British hare were exterminated;
yet, some thirty years ago, such seemed by no means impossible, for our
stock was so rapidly diminishing that it was with difficulty that the
Committee of some coursing meetings could make their arrangements. But
since that time normal conditions have returned, and hares are to-day
apparently as abundant as before the passing of the Ground Game Act.
Hares afford a large amount of sport, to say nothing of their value as
most excellent food. To the lovers of Natural History their habits and
ways are full of interest. For several years my home was situated at the
foot of the Wiltshire Downs, where I rented a long strip of shooting,
some two or three miles in length, and so had ample opportunity afforded
me of studying their habits.
It seems that we have at least some four distinct varieties of the hare
in Britain. First, there is the comparatively small hare of the Midlands,
perhaps more valuable for its edible qualities than for sport; the marsh
hare, better for sport than table; the large long leggy hare of the
Downlands, and the blue mountain hare of Scotland, which turns nearly to
quite white in winter.
Many years ago I wrote and published a work entitled _Outdoor Life in
England_. At the present time it is out of print, though I have some
idea of republishing it in an abridged and less expensive form. In it I
dealt somewhat at length on the subject of hares, and it seems that I can
hardly do better than quote some portions at the present time.
Hares love to squat on the hillsides out of the wind, and with their
heads to it; east and west winds are those to which they least object,
but, when a cold northerly or a rain-laden southerly wind prevails, they
betake themselves off to the hedgerows and coverts. The barest looking
ground is often selected by them; and a hole, scratched out on the
leeward side of a molehill or a broken bank, affords comfortable shelter;
and there, unless disturbed, they will sit throughout the day, asleep
with wide-open eyes, or survey the world around them until it is time to
caper off to supper in the turnips.
The ears of a hare are singularly adapted for hearing—more especially,
sounds from behind them. The size and position of their eyes enable them
to see around and behind them. Strange to say, however, it is easier to
approach a hare from the front than from any other direction. This fact
is, perhaps, due to the position of the eyes, which are situated somewhat
on the side of the head, and backward rather than forward. In that
delightful old book, Jesse’s _Gleanings in Natural History_—published
nearly a hundred years ago—the author makes the following statement: “I
have observed in coursing that, if a hare, when she is startled from her
form, has her ears down, she is a weak runner; but, if one of her ears is
carried erect, the hare generally beats the dogs.” I have never proved
the truth of this assertion.
Unlike rabbits, hares are born with their eyes open, and are covered with
hair. They seem to breed during the greater part of the year. As a rule,
they produce two at a birth, though three are by no means uncommon. One
naturalist mentions a case in which a hare gave birth to no fewer than
seven young ones.
Years ago a labourer, whom I occasionally employed as a hedger, brought a
live leveret to me, stating that it was one of three which had been born
outside his garden, and informed me that whenever three were produced at
a birth they invariably had a white star mark on their foreheads. I was
somewhat sceptical as to the truth of this, but I have since ascertained
that some naturalists assert this to be a fact. I kept the leveret until
it had developed into a full grown hare, when I gave it away. It had
grown very tame, and would sit out under the large wire run in front of
its coop and play with the spaniels. These latter used to lie about in
the sun close to the wire “creep,” the hare drumming at them with its
fore feet. I have often seen a happy family composed of several spaniels
round the cage, two cats sitting on the top, several white fantail
pigeons, and, not infrequently, some pied wagtails fearlessly running
about on the grass within a few yards.
We are accustomed to regard a hare as one of the most timid of all
animals, and in a state of nature this is the case. When, however, they
are kept in confinement, and have been tamed, they not only lose their
shyness to a very great extent, but are at times capable of exhibiting
an amount of ferocity hardly credible; and instances have been recorded
of their having completely beaten off a dog. A relation of mine was well
acquainted with a lady in one of our northern towns who kept two hares,
which she had succeeded in taming, and which were very much attached
to her. On her return home, after a prolonged absence of some three or
four months, and visiting her pets, they had, apparently, not only lost
their affection for her, but attacked her in so savage and determined
a manner that she was forced to beat a retreat. I have every reason to
believe in the absolute truth of this statement. Unlike rabbits hares
prefer solitude. It is an almost unknown thing to put up two hares which
have “seated” together. Even the young ones, as soon as they are weaned,
appear to separate themselves, and will lie couched some fifty or sixty
yards away from the doe. In hilly countries hares prefer to lie as near
to the top of a hill as the weather permits of their doing. The reason
for this is probably because the length of their hind legs enables them
to tread uphill better than down. When, however, they are forced to take
downhill, feeling their inability to descend in a straight line, they
invariably travel in an oblique direction. If pressed hard down a very
steep incline, they are apt, at times, to turn head over heels.
[Illustration]
It is unusual to find hares “seated” under a hedgerow, except in stormy
weather, when no other protection is available. As a rule, they prefer
to make their “forms” in the centre of a field, probably for greater
security. In mild, drizzly weather they generally move up to the higher
grounds, or seek the shelter of a gorse bush.
As everyone is aware, a hare is capable of giving a pack of hounds
infinitely more trouble to kill than a fox. It is the exception for a
hare to run straight away from hounds for any great distance, though
occasionally it will take a line as straight as that of a fox. The
account of a run with some harriers in one of our Eastern Counties, in
which, after affording a rattling gallop, the hare took out to sea in
the Wash, was recorded in the _Field_. The pack referred to was kept by
a relation of mine. For those who are able to appreciate the hunting
and working of hounds, hare-hunting affords greater opportunities for
witnessing the intricate difficulties of hunting by scent than any
similar description of sport. The man who is able to hunt harriers well
and successfully should be able to account for a fox, although the
tactics of the two animals pursued are different; for, whereas a forward
cast will generally succeed in hitting off the line of a fox when hounds
are at fault, nine times out of ten it is on one of the backward casts
that the true line of a hare will be found. It may well be said that the
direction a lost hare has taken will most surely be the one which appears
to be the least likely. It is the constant “doubling” which renders
hare-hunting so difficult. The best pack of harriers I ever saw at work
was one belonging to a Mr. Jeffreys. In colour they were black and tan,
owing to a strong infusion of the blood-hound cross. These hounds,
which were notorious, were exceedingly well handled by their owner, who
contrived to account for an incredible number of hares in the course of
the season. They were somewhat light-limbed, very speedy, and possessed
the most wondrous noses. No matter what the weather or the country might
be, they could pick up a scent where other hounds could not own a yard,
and even in the driest road or fallow in March.
Hare-shooting is but poor sport, and to my view, even under the best
circumstances, vastly inferior to good rabbit shooting. To miss a hare
within easy distance in the open is inexcusable, and to shoot at one at a
doubtful range still more so.
I am very much inclined to the opinion that, unless coursed or hunted,
a hare is by no means deserving of the high repute in which it is held
for table purposes, and there is, moreover, comparatively little of
its flesh worth eating. The following method of preparing a hare for
table may possibly be found useful. After skinning the animal, immerse
it in vinegar and water with a few juniper berries for twelve or even
twenty-four hours previous to roasting. By this means it will be found
little, if at all, inferior to a coursed or hunted hare.
I refer my readers to the _Satires_ of Horace (II. 4):
“Si vespertinus subito te oppresserit hospes,
Ne gallina malum responset dura palato,
Doctus eris vivam mixto mersare Falerno;
Hoc teneram faciet.”
Hare skins are useful for a variety of purposes. The country people make
them into waistcoats—chest preservers; the fur from the face and ears
forms an admirable body, either natural or dyed, for certain trout flies
such as the “Rough Olive Dun,” “Blue Dun,” “Sedge Flies,” etc.
The hind feet are most useful for oiling guns and such like articles.
They were—in former days—much used by those ladies who preferred to
supply the complexion which they lacked by a use of the rouge pot; and
the bones of the hind legs, when scraped and polished, are capable of
being converted into very handsome cigarette holders. So, all things
considered, a hare may be said to be a most useful animal.
Besides hunting, coursing, or shooting, various illegitimate methods are
employed in capturing hares, most commonly that known as “wiring,” to
my mind detestable in every sense of the word. A person well skilled in
setting a hare wire can make pretty certain of success. It is, however,
a practice usually confined to the poaching fraternity, who are far
more skilful in the use of a wire than keepers. An experienced eye can
very readily detect the difference between a poacher’s and a keeper’s
wire, whether it is set for hares or rabbits. An old hand can utilise
a bramble with nearly as certain success as a wire, and with far less
fear of detection, always provided that there happens to be a bramble
growing near enough to the run of a hare for the purpose. It is somewhat
difficult to explain, without the aid of an illustration, the difference
between a wire set by a keeper and that set by a poacher; but, if the
two are compared, the difference is very perceptible. Keepers twist
their wires far too much as a general rule, and, although they present a
very much neater appearance, they are not nearly so destructive; their
wires, too, are generally hand-twisted. A skilful poacher never twists
his wire by hand, and is careful not to touch the wire more than he can
help during its manufacture, using for the purpose of twisting the
strands a weight which is attached to each separate one, and by moving
which the necessary degree of twist is imparted, ever taking care to make
the twist as slight as possible. A poacher is well aware of the value
of an old wire, always provided it is sound and good, preferring it to
a new one. The general effect of such a wire when set appears clumsy to
an inexperienced eye, but a closer inspection will show the care and
skill with which it has been laid. Keepers, as a rule, set wires to
catch rabbits or hares for their employers, whereas poachers do so for
themselves. On one occasion, when shooting with a friend, we took up
some thirty or forty rabbit wires which had been set by a poacher; and
the next day my friend found a basket containing upwards of forty more,
all of which he gave to an old man in his employ. Curiously enough, we
afterwards discovered that these wires had been set by the grandson of
the man to whom they were given, who, of course, was not a little pleased
to have his property restored to him.
Another method of taking hares, adopted by poachers and the lower class
of gipsies, is to place a net across a gateway through which hares are
known to pass, and then to send a trained lurcher into the adjoining
fields to beat up the hare. Calling hares by means of a hare-call, and
then suddenly shooting them or suddenly slipping a lurcher on to them,
is a plan occasionally pursued. An ordinary tobacco pipe, provided it
has a mouthpiece, makes an excellent call-pipe. The call is produced by
pressing the mouthpiece against the lips, which must be nearly closed,
sucking in the air, placing the ball of the thumb on the bowl of the
pipe, and again quickly removing it. It is easy to produce the required
sound with a very little practice.
The following may interest the reader. On the afternoon of Easter Day
1895, I was walking in the water-meadows in front of my house in company
with my wife and a friend who had two well-broken retrievers with him.
My wife left us, returning to the house by a bridge which used to span
the river intervening between my house and the meadows, and which is at
that point some forty or fifty yards in width, the current being at the
time strong and deep. For some days previously I had noticed a hare in
the meadow, and on this occasion she jumped up some two hundred yards
from where we were standing in the centre of the field, raced round the
meadow, and eventually made straight for the river. The dogs had remained
perfectly steady at heel, though fully aware of what was happening.
Without the slightest hesitation she plunged boldly out into the stream,
swam rapidly across, and scampered up the bank, where, seeing my wife,
who had been watching the performance, she turned aside and bolted away
through the garden. It was strange that she should have elected to swim
so broad a river in preference to making her escape by either of the two
sides of the field which lay open to her, more especially since she had
not been chased or unduly disturbed in any way. The meadow is a very
large one, bounded on one side by the river in question, and on another
by a small tributary stream. The animal did not appear particularly
frightened either before or after her voyage. Perhaps she was suffering
from the insanity to which March hares are proverbially supposed to be
addicted. It was, certainly, a somewhat eccentric and unaccountable
performance.
In the summer of 1915—when fishing—a hare started up from the opposite
side of the river, and swam across not very many yards from where I was,
and, in that instance also, it had not been scared or startled in any
way, and there was nothing else in the field she started from but an old
piebald pony placidly feeding at some distance away. What made it a still
more curious performance was that I had a small terrier with me which was
nosing about the bank on my side of the river, and the hare passed only a
few yards above him.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER II.
KENNEL MANAGEMENT.
_By H. H. Howard-Vyse._
Kennel management falls under three headings, the arrangement of the
kennels themselves, feeding, and exercise. It may be said at once that
the management of beagles should be on precisely the same lines as
that of any other hounds; and the best way of learning to build up and
maintain a good pack of beagles is without doubt to study closely the
methods which obtain in any of the first class foxhound kennels. The only
differences to bear in mind, apart from the obvious one of size, are that
beagles are more delicate and are more apt to be nervous. The latter
point needs especially to be remembered in dealing with brood bitches and
young entry.
The kennels themselves should be like foxhound kennels in miniature, well
ventilated and adequately drained, but warm. The benches should be raised
about one foot off the ground, and there should be a raised edge, eight
inches higher, to prevent the bedding from slipping off on to the floor.
The benches should be hinged and fitted with a short chain which can be
hooked on to a staple in the wall. The object of this is to enable the
bench to be raised while the kennelman swills or sweeps out underneath
it. It need hardly be said that cleanliness is all-important. In order
to ensure fresh water the kennel should be fitted with a tap running
into a trough about ten inches from the ground. On hunting days an extra
liberal amount of clean straw should be provided, to enable hounds to dry
themselves quickly. As for foxhounds, an open air yard must be attached
to the kennel.
Separate small enclosed kennels are of course necessary for brood bitches
and sick hounds. For the former, quiet is important. For sick hounds,
which require to be kept particularly warm, these should be provided
with wooden floors; and, if it can conveniently be done, a hot water
pipe, brought possibly from the boiler house, will add greatly to the
comfort. In sick kennels a liberal use of sawdust and of disinfectants is
essential.
[Illustration: FEEDING TIME.
GEORGE CHAMPION.
DABBLER.
GIPSY AND RASPER.]
During the summer hounds must be kept exercised, and it is a good thing
to let them stand about in grass fields, when it will be found that they
will eat a quantity of grass and of earth, both of which are admirable
for their digestion. As the hunting season approaches, exercise must be
increased up to twenty miles a day. Ponies or bicycles are useful for
this, but the pace should not exceed seven miles an hour, except for
sharp bursts of a few hundred yards to open the hounds’ pipes. It is more
important that they should spend a long time out of kennel than that they
should cover great distances.
A hunt servant should ride behind to keep hounds up and on one side of
the road; they should be taught to come over quickly on to whichever side
of the road the huntsman wants them. In these days of motors this is
absolutely essential.
For feeding, the best oatmeal must be used, boiled the day before it is
required to such an extent that when cold it almost forms the consistency
of jelly. In cool weather it will keep for four or five days. Meat should
be given in the form of broth with the meat left in it and chopped small,
more being required in the hunting season than in summer. Raw meat every
now and again is a good thing, especially for those hounds which have
a tendency to eczema. To keep the blood cool the broth should contain,
especially in summer, vegetables, or the young tops of nettles; mangolds
too are beneficial, if well boiled. Hounds should be fed once a day only,
and must be walked out for at least half an hour immediately afterwards.
Brood bitches require to be fed twice a day, and their rations should
include milk and raw meat. They must not be allowed to get too fat, and
must be given plenty of exercise. A dose of salts just before whelping is
a good thing.
Whelps should be left on the dam as long as possible, but, to help her,
they should be persuaded to begin to lap at about a month old; at about
the same age they should be given a mild dose for worms—ruby syrup is
recommended. Their food should be gradually thickened up with soaked
bread crust or biscuit. At first they should be fed twice a day, then
thrice, and finally, when they are weaned at about ten weeks, four times
a day. Raw meat, very finely chopped, should be given as soon as they
will eat it, about as much as will fill a tea spoon, once a day at first,
and later double the quantity. At about three months old the feeds can be
gradually reduced till, soon after four months, the young hounds can be
fed like the rest of the pack.
For the benefit of their coats and skins all hounds should be dressed
twice during the summer with oil and sulphur, which should be left on
for at least forty-eight hours. If it is considered advisable to wash
hounds for vermin, a weak solution of MacDougall’s sheep dip should be
used. For the treatment of vermin Keating’s powder, and for cuts carbolic
oil must always be on hand. For eczema, a dose of salts, a dressing of
oil and sulphur, and a diet of raw meat are advised. For distemper, the
most important things are to keep the hound warm and to treat him as an
invalid for three weeks after he is apparently well. Every effort must be
made to make him feed, the best diet being soup, milk and fish.
But the essence of kennel management is that the kennelman should
be observant, so that he at once detects any symptoms of illness or
lameness.
CHAPTER III.
BEAGLING.
_By G. H. Longman._
Though perhaps it may be too much to say that hunting the hare on foot
with a pack of 15-in. beagles is the most interesting method of pursuing
the animal, still, if the evenness of the chances is to be the criterion
of interest, certainly the contest between a good pack of beagles and
a strong hare—the odds being slightly in favour of the latter—presents
sport in its truest elements.
A good pack of these little hounds will no doubt on a good scenting
day account for any hare, barring accidents; but these accidents are
extremely numerous, the first and foremost being the rising up in the
middle of the pack of a fresh hare just as the hunted animal is evidently
sinking. This mishap occurs more frequently than any other, and is
generally irremediable. Imagine a large ploughed field of stiff clay, the
hunted hare down, and hounds just feathering on the line, scent having
become a little weak. The huntsman is nearest (and all praise to him, as
hounds have run hard for forty minutes!); he has pulled up to a walk,
for the clay land clings to each boot with a tenacity which renders even
walking a wearisome struggle. He knows well that the moment is critical,
as there are probably fresh hares lying in the field; that scent may so
far fail as to compel him to make a cast; and that this will certainly
increase the already imminent danger of a change. He is just stopping,
in order to keep well away from his hounds, when he almost treads on a
fresh hare which gets up under his feet. She heads straight for the pack,
but our huntsman stands still as death; puss, seeing hounds, swerves
away without their catching a view, and the danger of a change is for
the moment past. But our huntsman’s eyes are at work, and he presently
observes a dark form stealing away about a hundred yards in front of the
pack. He looks again, makes sure that it is _his_ hare, and then, blowing
his horn, has his hounds to him in a trice, while he gamely struggles
through the clay at the best pace he can muster towards the spot where
the hunted hare has disappeared over a brow, her arched back betraying
her distressed condition, so that if only hounds can get a view they must
kill her.
The game is well-nigh won; but unfortunately the hounds’ heads are up,
and, a fresh hare rising in their very midst, away goes the whole pack,
running the stranger in view. Really well under control as they are, no
amount of rating or horn-blowing will stop them unless someone can get
round them. Get round them! Alas, anyone who has run with beagles knows
the impossibility of this until hounds check! It is, moreover, quite
likely that they will run without checking for at least twenty minutes,
and then what prospect will there be of recovering the line of the hunted
hare? Some slight chance indeed there is, for a tired hare always stops,
so that, if any vestige of a line can be shown, hounds may work up to and
re-find her. Far oftener, however, all trace has vanished, when they are
brought back to the spot where she was last seen.
But let us describe a day’s sport with beagles, starting with the
supposition that the master is sufficiently energetic to be up and at it
by six o’clock on a beautiful October morning; for not only are hares
scarce in the district over which he proposes to hunt, the consequence
being that he will have a better chance of a find by getting on the
trail, but he also desires to give his young entry the lesson for which
running a hare’s trail up to her form is so admirably adapted.
There has been rain, but it passed away on the previous afternoon,
and after a brilliant night the ground is covered with a heavy dew.
Our huntsman is wise to begin operations thus early, for now scent
is probably good; whereas when the sun has reached any height the
atmospheric conditions will, as a rule, become less favourable.
Let us linger for a moment by the gate, where hounds are clustered
round their huntsman, some jumping up at him, and others making an
unprofessional use of their tuneful voices, a transgression which,
however, elicits but a faint-hearted rate, for our huntsman loves his
hounds intensely, and feels almost inclined to encourage a breach of
etiquette which only enhances his already keen sense of enjoyment.
It is a charming scene. A country roadside which forms the boundary
between some rough grass meadows leading down to a stream on the one
side, and a heather common on the other, gently undulating towards a
piece of water, to which the wild duck are just coming in from the stream
where they have spent the night. Even now a few duck are to be seen
overhead, the whistle of their wings first making us aware of their
presence. They are circling high above us, not daring to pitch, and will
probably take a fresh flight to another and larger sheet of water about
three miles further on.
We must, however, return to the pack. The Master is moving off, and as he
waves the pack over a bank into the heather any hound throwing his tongue
will be severely dealt with if the whipper-in can only get near enough to
administer one cut, accompanied by “Ware riot, Melody!” for business has
begun.
Ten couple of hounds there are in all, and two couple of them are
unentered. Melody is one of these, and while there must be no question of
sparing the rod, we have a fellow-feeling for her exuberance of spirits.
The delinquent already has her stern up once more (it was momentarily
lowered on receipt of the whipper-in’s practical rebuke), and is as busy
as any of them, flinging here and there, and pushing her way into a
cluster of hounds which look remarkably busy, for, yes! they have already
struck a line, no doubt of a hare returning from feeding in the grass
meadows adjoining the common.
The huntsman maintains a masterly inactivity, merely rating any hound
which shows an inclination to dwell on the line. Now they are running
quite merrily across the heather, but come to a stop where the hare
has taken to one of the paths which abound hereabouts. She has run the
path for quite eighty yards, and only the older hounds can carry the
line along it, the body of the pack casting about, and showing a slight
inclination to run heel. The huntsman, however, holds them forward,
walking quietly along the path, well in rear of those hounds who are
carrying the line.
These tactics result in a pretty hit, for, although the hare has run the
road for eighty yards, she has run her foil for at least twenty-five
before flinging off, so that the body hit the line out of the path
while the old hounds are still picking out the scent further along; but
these at once go to cry, and the whole pack flings briskly forward. The
huntsman allows them very ample room, knowing that puss has very likely
made her form not far away. See! they have overrun the scent, and, as
they spread back fan-like to recover the line, up jumps the hare and off
they go, running in view for a short distance, and then taking up the
line with a chorus which at once proclaims a scent.
The whipper-in is lying wide, and succeeds in turning the hare out of a
broad sandy path which would otherwise undoubtedly have caused a check;
and away they go over the open heather at a pace which tries our wind
terribly. The pack head straight for a sort of island farm which lies on
a hill side in the middle of the heather, cross it, and, emerging once
more at the top of the hill, run beautifully over the heathery flat until
they come to a main road, where they check long enough to enable the
huntsman to get up to them.
A pretty picture is displayed! A fine stretch of heather extending for
some miles, through which the old main road from London to Portsmouth
runs, with now and again considerable stretches of fir woods forming a
dark fringe to the view, whilst over the fir tops the sun, just emerging,
adds a sparkling brightness to the landscape, which would be alone
sufficient to repay the early start. The busy pack makes a beautiful
foreground, flinging here and there in search of the momentarily vanished
clue. Mark that veteran of the pack, well known for his wide and
independent casts; the huntsman’s eye is on him, and he moves quietly in
his direction, without, however, so much as whistling to his hounds.
He has judged wisely, for Challenger unmistakably has the line and speaks
to it confidently, just as the huntsman gets near enough to put in with
good effect, “Hark to Challenger!” and hounds, flying to cry, take up the
running with a chorus which it does one’s heart good to hear. They have,
however, only run about a hundred yards when they check quite suddenly,
once more spreading out like a fan. But they are only momentarily at
fault. Poor puss is down, her heart having failed her after coming
about two miles straight, and she is up and off in view as soon as the
hounds, who have slightly overrun the scent, spread back to where she
has clapped. She heads for home, and hounds run fast for another fifteen
minutes before checking on the island farm which they crossed in the
first burst.
The sun is getting strong by this time, and scent does not serve so well
on the arable land. Hounds slowly carry the line into the middle of a
newly ploughed hillside field, and gradually come to a stop. Evidently
the hare is forward, so, after leaving his hounds alone sufficiently long
to enable them to recover the line, unassisted if they can, the huntsman
resolves on a cast “forrard.” He whistles his hounds to him, and at a
gentle double casts them round the fence from about opposite to where
they checked, keeping his hounds in front of him, and giving them time
to try as they go. Almost immediately one of the puppies speaks, and out
pops a rabbit right under his nose. The huntsman rates “Ware rabbit!”
and, very much to their credit, none of the old hounds break away. It
is, however, altogether too much for the puppies, who every one of them
courses the rabbit for about a hundred yards in full cry.
Luckily the interloper runs up hill along the fence, so the delinquents
are easily stopped by the whipper-in, who is lying back, and turned to
the master’s horn. It may here be remarked that it is comparatively easy
to stop beagles from rabbits in the open. The pack the writer has in
mind would always stop if rated when a rabbit got up in an open field;
but in covert, where one could not easily get at them, the case was
very different, and you might holloa yourself hoarse without producing
much effect. Master Bunny, however, only caused a momentary diversion,
and hounds, having struck the line in the bottom corner of the fence,
are once more chiming away merrily over the heather in the direction of
puss’s original form.
Will they catch her? Well, if she is a leveret her bolt must be nearly
shot, but if she is an old hare—and she is big enough!—she will lead the
pack a merry dance for another good half-hour before giving in. So is the
fight fought between poor puss and her enemies the beagles. Sometimes
a circle; sometimes a straight bolt and then as a rule clapping till
hounds are over her, and getting up behind them, making her way home
again; sometimes, though not often, making a long point and dying some
five miles from home. I once recollect a hare being found close to the
brook near which hounds were thrown off, as above described, making a
point of five miles over the heather, and being eventually killed in the
grounds of a well-known public school situated in that district. This is,
however, an exceptional occurrence.
Many and varied are the incidents which occur during the chase of a hare.
Often have we been hopelessly at fault on that common, when, to our joy,
we have beheld a hat held aloft on some neighbouring hill. We know that
hat well. It belongs to the most arrant poacher in the neighbourhood; he
is the best hand at seeing a hare sitting in the whole countryside, and
he knows a hunted hare when he sees her. We tried at one time to reclaim
him by paying him more for every hare he found for us than he could
get for one dead in the public-house. No use! the instinct was far too
strong, and only a week or two after the beginning of the compact “the
Long ’un,” as he was called—for he was a tall fellow—was caught setting a
snare one Sunday morning.
When we were drawing for a hare he would walk with his hands behind him,
and, turning his head slowly from side to side, would cover all ground
within fifty yards as well as any setter. Probably before very long he
would suddenly stop, and, indicating a certain spot perhaps twenty yards
away, would quite quietly remark, “There she sets!” Surely enough there
she did sit; though as often as not his eye alone could discern Madam
Puss crouched in her heathery form. A wonderfully observant man he must
have been, and great fun we used to have about him; but as to reclaiming
him, you might as well have asked him not to eat—or drink, for it must
be regretfully admitted he was at least as fond of liquid as of solid
nourishment.
He was often in gaol—always for poaching—and, as the keeper used to say,
“The Long ’un always came out fatter than he went in!” so his home fare
was probably neither plentiful in quantity nor of an Epicurean quality.
He never bore malice, as the following incident shows. He had been in
gaol for poaching on the common above described. His sentence expired on
a Saturday, and as a party of us were walking on the following Sunday
afternoon along one of the footpaths which thread the common, who should
appear round a corner but our friend, just fresh from gaol?
What did he do? Why, he lifted his hat, and wished us good-day in the
cheeriest manner possible, just as if he had met us by appointment to
help find a hare for the beagles.
Probably he was there for no very legitimate purpose, but at the moment
he was, of course, on the footpath, where he had as much right to be as
anyone else; and one could hardly help sympathising with the love of
sporting adventure which was doubtless the main cause of his poaching
proclivities. At any rate, he found us many a hare, and was an important
factor in bringing not a few to hand.
No attempt has been made to describe in detail the different methods
of hunting beagles, or the different stamp of beagle which is suitable
for different countries, as all these points have been dealt with in
the Hunting volume of the “Badminton Library.” The writer has merely
attempted to place before the reader a picture (very imperfect,
doubtless) of such leading episodes in this sport as he has himself
witnessed many and many a time; and if the picture should by any lucky
chance induce any reader of these pages to be “up and at it” by six
o’clock in the morning, and test for himself the enjoyment of watching
a good pack of beagles at work, he will, if he has any hunting instinct
at all in him, assuredly be well repaid, and the writer will not have
written in vain.
CHAPTER IV.
THE HUMANITARIAN ASPECT.
_By Col. Robertson-Aikman._
I have been asked to contribute some remarks on the humanitarian aspect
of hare hunting, much having been written to the Press on its cruelty,
especially in reference to the E.C.H.—a hunt that has been singled out
for opprobrium by people to whom must no doubt be attributed well-meaning
and humanitarian feelings, but who it seems to me fail to recognise
natural laws or to take a broad-minded or unbiased view of sport in
general or to realise that they have not the monopoly of humane feelings.
To commence with, what is cruelty? The infliction of pain need not
necessarily constitute cruelty, else many things besides sport must be
condemned. The infliction of unnecessary pain is where cruelty begins,
and this is reprehensible and inexcusable. I think the subject must be
approached with a sense of proportion, and must be treated comparatively.
All animals have to meet their death, and those that are used for human
food an untimely death at the hand of man, and the chief object to be
kept in view is the avoidance of inflicting unnecessary pain. This should
be every true sportsman’s aim.
Nature herself is cruel, beasts and birds of prey being the worst
offenders. Who that has seen a cat with a mouse but is not moved with
pity and made to wonder why things have been so ordained?
Venery has been in vogue since the days of primitive man, when he hunted
for the means of subsistence; and nowadays, when it is practised as a
manly pastime for exercise, health, and pleasure, every true sportsman
who indulges in it makes it his endeavour to minimise the sufferings of
his quarry, and will always give it a fair chance for its life. Contrast
this with the everyday occurrence of a calf or a pig being taken to have
its throat cut and bled to death with no possible chance of escape. My
sympathy is stronger for these than for any hunted animal. Have those who
decry the sport never eaten veal and ham pie?
I said before that the question is comparative, and I should like
to follow that up by saying that the sport of hunting compares very
favourably with other sports from a humanitarian view. Take shooting;
how many animals and birds in a day’s shooting get away wounded, many to
die a lingering death? Quite a considerable percentage. In hunting it is
certain death or escape, and, though cases are known of hunted animals
being picked up afterwards having died of exhaustion, these cases are
exceptional. They never get away wounded, and their end when killed by
hounds is as quick as it is certain. I imagine there are more things
mortally wounded in a big day’s covert shoot than any one pack of hounds
kills in a season, and I venture to think that taking the country as a
whole there are more wounded in one day’s shooting than all the packs in
the kingdom kill in a whole season.
I recall an incident when hunting in Lanarkshire which illustrates the
often mistaken ideas of humanitarians. I had a beaten hare in front of me
that took to the roads. I came to a cross road where hounds checked, and
met a lady whom I asked if she had viewed my hare. She said yes, but she
would rather not tell me where she had gone, as she looked on hunting as
cruel. I told her I respected her feelings of humanity, and if I were of
her opinion I would give up hunting. I asked her her views on shooting
and whether she did not think it was cruel that so many things died from
wounds. She replied, “No good sportsmen ever wound things, they always
kill them dead.” How many of us, I wonder, could under this definition
claim to be good sportsmen?
An officer of that excellent Society the S.P.C.A. once met me returning
home with hounds from hunting, and, noticing a lame hound, was going to
run me in for cruelty. I told him if he could insure prevention of such
cruelty I hoped he would come and stay with me for the winter.
Some people would have us believe that a hunted animal suffers agonies
of mind (vide _Modern Society_, 18th February, 1899), and Somervile’s
_Chace_ conveys that impression. This no one who has had much experience
of hunting believes. Many of these animals spend their lives in a state
of being hunted by others, dogs, cats, vermin, etc., and they are chiefly
occupied in avoiding their natural enemies. Fright they may feel, as
a hare will if put up by a person walking across a field, but their
attempts at escape are their only thought, and they do not realise the
penalty of being caught. I don’t think they are at all distressed until
they are dead beat, when the end generally comes quickly and surely.
Objection has been taken to certain terms used in hunting, such as
“pulled her down,” “ran into her,” “rolled her over,” “dead beat,”
“breaking her up,” “blooding the hounds.” The first three, critics may
not know, simply imply catching the hare. “Dead beat”—this feeling is
also experienced by any Eton boy in the School Steeplechase when he
reaches the School Jump. The last two taking place after the death of the
hare can scarcely be urged as cruel.
Do these humanitarians inveigh against poisoning rats, destroying wasps’
nests, burning these insects alive, using fly-papers, or mouse-traps?
Do they eat game, fish, meat, or have they ever tasted _foie gras_ or
lobster?
The Humanitarian Society claim to have accomplished the abolition of the
Royal Buckhounds by appealing to Queen Victoria’s tender feelings. I
think there were other and more cogent reasons.
The late Provost, the late Head Master, the late Vice-Provost, the late
Mr. R. S. de Havilland and others have been accused of brutality and
callousness. All who knew them and who understand the subject resent such
baseless attacks on men of kindly disposition and balanced judgment.
The _Spectator_ says, “These Eton brutalities are condemned by the modern
spirit of humaneness,” and quotes the rules of the Founder as follows,
“No scholar, fellow, chaplain, or other minister, or servant of the
College, shall keep or have hunting dogs, nets for hunting, ferrets,
falcons or hawks,” urging that the Founder’s intention was humanitarian.
There is no doubt, however, that this was simply the reservation of
sporting rights. A similar clause is common in leases to this day.
The arguments I have read or heard show a deplorable ignorance of the
subject.
I have been asked to give my views on the date on which hare hunting
should stop, and on the killing of heavy does, a subject made much of
by an ephemeral called the _Beagler Boy_. In 1906, in consequence of
correspondence between Mr. Fitzroy Stewart and the Head Master of Eton on
the subject of the School Beagles, and which mainly referred to the date
on which hare hunting should cease, the _County Gentleman_ asked for the
opinion of some of the leading masters of harriers and beagles on this
point, three questions being asked, viz.:
1. Do you think it advisable to fix the date for the end of the
hare-hunting season, and if so what date would you fix?
2. Do you subscribe to the opinion that a heavy hare has no
scent?
3. Have you known in your experience heavy hares to be either
run or chopped by hounds?
Among the replies sent was the following from Mr. George Race (of Road
Farm, Biggleswade), than whom no one was more qualified to give an
opinion, he having been M.H. for seventy years:
“Dear Sir,—In answer to your questions I can only tell you I
do not consider it advisable to fix any date for discontinuing
hare hunting; and for this reason. In the south of England
hares get heavy two or three weeks earlier than they do in the
north, and also in an extensive country well stocked with hares
you can of course go on longer than in a small country not well
stocked.
As to the second question I am quite sure that a heavy hare
emits little or no scent.
As to your last question, I certainly have known heavy hares
chopped by hounds and also run by hounds.”
My own letter written from the High Peak country at that time was as
follows, viz.:
“Dear Sir,—In reply to your letter and the special questions:
1. I am not certain that a fixed date for closing the
hare-hunting season is advisable. There is no doubt that in
some countries such as this hunting can be carried on a week
or two later than in many others. If a date were fixed I agree
that the middle (16th) of March would be the best date, all
things considered, though it would not be early enough to
obviate the occasional killing of heavy does.
2. No; but I am certain that a heavy hare has comparatively
little scent.
3. Yes, of course, but owing to her carrying less scent and
to her short running, a doe hare is seldom killed when heavy.
I have been particular to observe when hunting in March for
years past whether a heavy hare is often killed, and have
found it not to be the case. I doubt if my hounds kill on an
average more than one each season. This year a brace have been
killed—one in February.”
On the first point Beckford says, “It is a question which I know not how
to answer, as it depends as well on the quantity of game that you have as
on the country you hunt.”
In conclusion, I think that without doubt, when looking back on the Great
War, the country owes a deep debt of gratitude to all sports which tend
to make a man manly (I am afraid I do not include such sports as coursing
or pigeon shooting among them, as I am of opinion that woodcraft is a
_sine qua non_ to a manly sport). Of all sports hunting most engenders
initiative, close observation, quick decision, and courage, qualities
essential to all leaders in the several branches of the Forces of the
Crown, and which were conspicuous during the late War in the cases of men
who had been entered to hunting. The horses too were a great national
asset in that crisis. There could be no better initial training for the
hunting field than running with beagles. I can look back on five years as
M.F.H. and twenty-two seasons with harriers, but my initiation was with
the Eton beagles, and I did not follow them without learning many useful
lessons in the noble art. I hope many future generations of Etonians will
profit by them. I still have a hare’s pad set up killed by them on 18th
February, 1879. I have a warm feeling for the hare, and never quite like
shooting one: she has afforded me much sport, much pleasure, and much
benefit, and if I could forget the fox—and, of course, the hound and the
horse—I could agree with Martial that
“Inter quadrupedes gloria prima lepus.”
APPENDIX I.
LIST OF MASTERS AND WHIPS.
_College Pack._
1857
R. H. Carter (Master)
J. A. Willis
1858
R. H. Carter (Master)
H. St. A. Goodrich
T. J. Huddleston
1859
R. H. Carter (Master)
H. St. A. Goodrich
H. M. Palmer
1860
T. J. Huddleston
T. J. P. Carter
E. E. Witt
1861
E. E. Witt (Master)
A. C. Custance
H. W. More-Molyneux
1862
E. E. Witt (Master)
H. W. More-Molyneux
C. R. Moore
1863
G. G. J. Thackeray (Master)
C. R. Moore
J. B. Wood
1864
R. H. J. L. B. Lewis (Master)
J. B. Wood
A. A. Wace
R. V. Somers-Smith
1865
A. J. Pound (Master)
R. V. Somers-Smith
A. G. Tindal
1866
A. J. Pound (Master)
F. E. Armitstead
G. Gosset
_Oppidan Pack._
1858
N. E. Charrington (Master)
G. C. K. Johnstone
1859
N. E. Charrington (Master)
G. C. K. Johnstone
C. Tayleur
1860
R. E. Moore (Master)
H. O. L. Baker
1861
J. G. Chambers (Master)
J. H. A. Schneider
H. P. Senhouse
1862
W. T. Trench (Master)
Hon. F. G. Pelham
H. M. Meysey-Thompson
1863
Hon. F. G. Pelham (Master)
H. M. Meysey-Thompson
W. R. Griffiths
1864
H. M. Meysey-Thompson (Master)
A. Turnor
S. H. Sandbach
1865
C. S. Newton (Master)
R. F. Meysey-Thompson
E. Royds
1866
E. Royds (Master)
W. M. Milner
G. R. Sandbach
_Amalgamated Hunt._
1867
W. C. Calvert (Master)
F. E. Armitstead, K.S.
Hon. H. P. C. S. Monck
1868
W. C. Calvert (Master)
F. E. Armitstead, K.S.
F. Johnstone
1869
F. Johnstone (Master)
W. M. Browne, K.S.
E. P. Rawnsley
1870
G. H. Longman (Master)
F. A. Currey
G. L. Wickham
1871
G. H. Longman (Master)
G. H. Armitstead, K.S.
Hon. H. C. Legge
1872
F. Fenwick (Master)
Hon. R. Parker
A. H. Charlesworth
1873
Hon. C. Harbord (Master)
W. A. Harford
V. W. Vickers
1874
W. A. Harford (Master)
Hon. E. W. Parker
L. H. Jones
1875
Hon. E. W. Parker (Master)
A. C. B. Mynors
J. B. T. Chevallier, K.S.
A. M. Wilson
1876
R. Hunt (Master)
J. B. T. Chevallier, K.S.
G. H. Portal
C. P. Selby-Bigge
1877
R. Hunt (Master)
G. H. Portal
E. K. Douglas
C. A. Fellowes
1878
E. K. Douglas (Master)
R. D. Anderson
A. Gosling
C. B. Harvey
1879
A. W. H. Beach (Master)
Hon. M. B. Hawke
Lord Eskdail
G. Streatfeild
1880
Hon. D. H. Lascelles (Master)
N. MacGregor
Hon. G. E. Milles
G. L. Holdsworth
1881
Hon. D. H. Lascelles (Master)
G. L. Holdsworth
Hon. A. E. Parker
J. Hargreaves
1882
Hon. A. E. Parker (Master)
J. Hargreaves
T. C. Toler
F. S. Maude
1883
Hon. A. E. Parker (Master)
J. Hargreaves
Lord Newtown-Butler
F. Douglas-Pennant
1884
Lord Newtown-Butler (Master)
F. Douglas-Pennant
B. G. H. Vernon
F. A. Soames
1885
T. H. Barnard (Master)
F. P. Barnett
Hon. G. H.-D.-Willoughby
C. M. F. Luttrell
1886
F. P. Barnett (Master)
Hon. G. H.-D.-Willoughby
C. M. F. Luttrell
Hon. C. Douglas-Pennant
1887
Hon. T. W. Brand (Master)
Lord C. Cavendish-Bentinck
E. G. Hills
W. H. L. Allgood
1888
W. S. Gosling (Master)
F. E. Goad
Hon. J. H. Ward
G. Fenwick
1889
Hon. J. H. Ward (Master)
M. B. Furse, K.S.
L. Caldecott
C. G. Dalgety
1890
Hon. R. A. Ward (Master)
V. Nickalls
E. Lee
A. H. Dickinson
1891
E. G. Campbell (Master)
E. Lee
Lord Brackley
F. W. Wignall
1892
A. M. Grenfell (Master)
F. Hargreaves
Hon. R. Ward
J. A. Morrison
1893
W. R. O. Kynaston (Master)
Hon. F. W. G. Egerton
R. S. Grenfell
J. V. Hermon
1894
H. Baker-Creswell (Master)
T. D. Pilkington
F. M. A. Atkinson-Clark
E. R. Davson
1895.
G. C. Sanford Hodgson (Master)
A. W. F. Baird
D. O. Dunlop
Hon. G. E. F. Ward
1896
Hon. G. E. F. Ward (Master)
C. M. Black
Hon. C. W. H. Cavendish
G. Robarts
1897
G. Robarts (Master)
A. D. Legard
J. J. Pawson
R. Lubbock, K.S.
1898
H. R. Milvain (Master)
W. H. Chapman
A. D. Pilkington
W. T. Hodgson
1899
F. O. Grenfell (Master)
R. N. Grenfell
E. B. Denison
H. K. Longman
1900
H. K. Longman (Master)
L. Heathcoat-Amory
Lord Dalmeny
G. Hargreaves
1901
R. G. H. Howard-Vyse (Master)
C. E. Lambert
J. S. Mellor
N. M. Wilson
1902
R. G. H. Howard-Vyse (Master)
N. M. Wilson
A. F. Lambert
J. H. Drake
1903
A. F. Lambert (Master)
C. R. H. Wiggin
K. I. Nicholl
St. J. M. Lambert
1903-1904
C. Romer Williams (Master)
A. R. Gilbey
N. W. Loder
Lord Maidstone } (3rd Whips)
P. M. N. Wroughton }
1904-1905
P. M. N. Wroughton (Master)
E. A. Lycett-Green
M. C. Albright
G. J. C. Browne
1905-1906
P. M. N. Wroughton (Master)
H. S. Loder
J. F. Montagu
G. Buxton
1906-1907
H. S. Loder (Master)
G. R. Wiggin
S. G. Menzies
G. Kekewich
1907-1908.
S. G. Menzies (Master)
G. Kekewich
G. H. Gilbey
I. A. Straker
1908-1909.
S. G. Menzies (Master)
F. W. M. Cornwallis
G. W. Barclay
R. F. Drake
1909-1910.
G. W. Barclay (Master)
R. F. Drake
W. S. Cornwallis
K. S. M. Gladstone
1910-1911
K. S. M. Gladstone (Master)
L. C. Gibbs
W. P. Browne
W. Holland-Hibbert } (3rd Whips)
J. C. R. Rawnsley }
1911-1912
L. C. Gibbs (Master)
W. P. Browne
G. K. Dunning
N. W. H. Gladstone } (3rd whips)
E. G. K. S. May. }
1912-1913
G. K. Dunning (Master)
N. W. H. Gladstone
H. A. St. George
R. E. F. Courage
1913-1914
C. C. H. Hilton Green } (Masters)
R. D. Crossman }
Lord Apsley
L. C. Nash
R. W. G. Dill
1914-1915
R. D. Crossman } (Masters)
G. G. Cox-Cox }
R. W. G. Dill } (1st Whips)
A. Knowles }
B. A. Wilson
P. H. G. H. S. Hartley
1915-1916
G. G. Cox-Cox } (Masters)
W. A. D. Eley }
G. Clapham
R. F. Goad
T. M. Nussey
1916-1917
R. F. Goad } (Masters)
H. K. M. Kindersley }
T. M. Nussey } (1st Whips)
J. A. Dewhurst }
S. A. Parker
Hon. E. V. Rhys
1917. Winter Half.
S. A. Parker (Master)
Hon. E. V. Rhys
P. G. Ward Jackson
Marquess of Worcester
1918-1919. No hunting.
1920. Easter Half.
F. M. G. Glyn (Master)
J. P. Dewhurst
C. H. S. Dixon
T. C. Barnett-Barker
1920-1921.
T. C. Barnett-Barker (Master)
J. M. Hopkinson
T. C. Gouldsmith
A. C. Crossley
APPENDIX II.
RECORD OF SPORT.
_Amalgamated Hunt._
1867
Hunting days 27
Hares killed 3
1868
Hunting days 29
Hares killed 2
1869
Hunting days 26
Hares killed 7
1870
Hunting days 18
Hares killed 3
1871
Hunting days 24
Hares killed 4
1872
Hunting days 29
Hares killed 6
1873
Hunting days 22
Hares killed 5
1874
Hunting days 22
Hares killed 4
1875
Hunting days 22
Hares killed 4
1876
Hunting days 34
Hares killed 15
1877
Hunting days 27
Hares killed 17
1878
Hunting days 26
Hares killed 11
1879
Hunting days 25
Hares killed 13
1880
Hunting days 25
Hares killed 9
1881
Hunting days 25
Hares killed 13
1882
Hunting days 27
Hares killed 12
1883
Hunting days 26
Hares killed 7
1884
Hunting days 28
Hares killed 11
1885
Hunting days 24
Hares killed 8
1886
Hunting days 37
Hares killed 17
1887
Hunting days 30
Hares killed 11
1888
Hunting days 25
Hares killed 5
1889
Hunting days 30
Hares killed 11
1890
Hunting days 26
Hares killed 12
1891
Hunting days 27
Hares killed 6
1892
Hunting days 26
Hares killed 14
1893
Hunting days 31
Hares killed 8
1894
Hunting days 22
Hares killed 11
1895
Hunting days 21
Hares killed 7
1896
Hunting days 29
Hares killed 3
1897
Hunting days 30
Hares killed 15
1898
Hunting days 30
Hares killed 7
1899
Hunting days 31
Hares killed 13
1900
Hunting days 24
Hares killed 5
1900-1901
Hunting days 28
Hares killed 5
1901-1902
Hunting days 37
Hares killed 11
1903
Hunting days 30
Hares killed 9
1903-1904
Hunting days 42
Hares killed 25
1904-1905
Hunting days 40
Hares killed 20
1905-1906
Hunting days 48
Hares killed 22
1906-1907
Hunting days 37
Hares killed 10
1907-1908
Hunting days 42
Hares killed 24
1908-1909
Hunting days 43
Hares killed 25
1909-1910
Hunting days 36
Hares killed 19
1910-1911
Hunting days 36
Hares killed 27
1911-1912
Hunting days 43
Hares killed 28
1912-1913
Hunting days 45
Hares killed 33
1913-1914
Hunting days 49
Hares killed [12]38
1914-1915
Hunting days 31
Hares killed 22
1915-1916
Hunting days 34
Hares killed 9
1916-1917
Hunting days 31
Hares killed 12
1917. Winter Half.
Hunting days 16
Hares killed 9
1918-1919. No hunting.
1920
Hunting days 19
Hares killed 3
1920-1921
Hunting days 49
Hares killed 36
APPENDIX III.
LETTER FROM F. GRENFELL TO _Eton College Chronicle_, DEC. 1899.
The existing arrangements for the keeping of the Eton beagles having
proved extravagant and not altogether satisfactory, I now propose to
try and form a plan which will in the future put the Hunt on a sound
basis. The first step is to build our own kennels, and it is with much
satisfaction I am able to state that the Governing Body see no objection
to the plan, and have appointed the Building Committee to consider it.
Should kennels be built, the E.C.H. will benefit in four ways:
(i) The kennels would belong exclusively to the College.
(ii) The kennel huntsman would be a College Servant.
(iii) A valuable pack might be got together.
(iv) All at a less expense than it has cost in the past.
In regard to No. (iii) there is much to be said, discussed, agreed to and
disagreed from.
We will suppose that the E.C.H. be a beagle pack—as in years past it has
been a beagle-harrier pack of all sizes. If it be a beagle pack, it must
have no hounds over 16 inches, as 16 inches is the limit of a beagle. The
pack should not be smaller than 15½ inches to 16 inches, as there are
several reasons to object to in having smaller hounds.
1. The enormous field which turns out, numbering often 200
people, and a small, and therefore slow, pack is almost
impossible, as some of the 200 would be overrunning the hounds
all the time.
2. We only hunt for two or three hours in the afternoon.
3. The country that is hunted consists almost entirely of
plough, which, of course, stops hounds to a great extent.
Perhaps the plan that W. B. H. proposes in _E.C.C._ of Nov. 17th could be
brought into consideration: (1) “That the Master of the Beagles should
summon a meeting of present and old Etonians interested in the subject
(I think old Masters might be added to the list) to decide, now and
for ever, upon a standard height of the Eton Beagles.” (2) “That the
standard should be fixed with a view to showing as much sport to their
followers as possible in the limited number of hours at their disposal.”
(3) “That the matter should be thoroughly thrashed out, and that it
should not be in the power of succeeding Masters to change either the
standard of height or type fixed for their benefit by their predecessors
on due consideration.”
Having disposed of all last year’s pack I have bought an entirely new
pack of hounds, 15½ inches and very level. Though some hounds are rather
lacking in good looks, the pack in itself are a level lot, and very good
workers. As we hope to have the new kennels, a very great improvement
will be made, namely “walk” will be done away with. It is impossible to
have a good pack, i.e. a pack that works well together, and several new
hounds, drafts from other packs, bought, and for the remaining ten months
are at walk, which in several cases means that a boy at the College takes
them home, and gets his moneyworth out of them by hunting drags, rabbits
and sometimes hares; and in other cases they are taken home, forgotten,
neglected, and sent back in January, so as to hunt at once, in a most
disgraceful condition. Can this pack, then, be expected to hunt when they
are all collected as well as a pack kept and hunted from year to year,
doing daily exercise in the summer, and good fifteen miles’ road exercise
three days a week in October, November and December, with, if possible,
an occasional hunt in between?
And therefore a pack, 16 inches, having been hunted year by year
together, and got fit and properly kept, will go far faster than a pack
straying for 50 yards or so, with a hound 20 yards or so ahead of the
rest, etc., of 18, 17, 16, 15 and 14 inch hounds. These heights are no
exaggeration, one year there being two hounds 19½ and two 12 inches. And
if “walk” continues, these heights must be varied like this, as it is
impossible to get a level pack in January.
Now we will suppose that the hounds are kept in their kennels always
throughout the summer; then the new Master can be with his hounds all
the summer and good blood can be got in the pack by sending bitches to
well-known beagle packs, and in time a very good strain could be got. All
the puppies would be sent out to walk till they are twelve months old
and fit to join the pack. I don’t think there would be any difficulty in
finding either boys or farmers to walk the puppies, and a small challenge
cup could be given, as in other packs, for the hound best walked. Thus
a good entry could be made, and the old hounds drafted. Of course, to
get a good and well-bred pack would take about twelve years; but we all
hope at some future time or other to see the E.C.H. entered in the stud
book, and to see the first prize at Peterborough won by a hound belonging
to the E.C.H. There is no reason why all this should not take place,
provided a good kennelman is kept, and the Master devotes heart and soul
to his hounds, and is careful to get good fresh blood in the pack.
If all this be taken into consideration, I am sure you will find that
as good sport is shown by the smaller and level pack, and as many hares
killed.
Beckford says: “You will find nothing so essential to your sport as that
your hounds should run well together; nor can this end be better attained
than by confining yourself, as near as you can, to those of the same
sort, viz. size and shape. A great excellence in a pack of hounds is the
head they carry; and that pack be said to go the fastest that can run
10 miles with the fewest checks. As a good level pack at a check should
spread like a rocket, what can be finer than a pack like the horses of
the sun, ‘all abreast’?”
I hope you will excuse me, Mr. Editor, for trespassing on your valuable
space at such a length, but these are only suggestions on my part, and I
hope the matter will be thoroughly sifted and discussed; and let us hope
that some authority on the subject will put forth his views. Let your
hounds be
“Facies non omnibus una,
Nec diversa tamen, qualem decet esse sonorum.”
APPENDIX IV.
LETTER FROM A MASTER OF HOUNDS OF FORTY YEARS’ EXPERIENCE.
_Behaviour and Control of Field._
When a Master is hunting his own hounds it is very advisable to have
either a joint Master, or a field Master, whose business it is to keep
the field well away from huntsman and hounds when they come to a check.
The field should remember that to press hounds at a check is most
disastrous to sport, and they should keep well away and wait till hounds
hit off the line, and certainly not follow the huntsman about when he is
making a cast. In hare hunting this is most essential, as a hare will
often run back on its own line or squat; if the field is walking about on
the line it is impossible for hounds to pick it up. The huntsman should
know to a few yards where the hounds last had the line, and the moment
that he says “Hold hard” everyone should stop and stand perfectly still
and not talk: the least thing will get hounds’ heads up, and once up it
takes time to get them down again. Another thing, never halloo a hare; if
any one sees a hare, hold up his cap at the place where he has seen the
hare; if the huntsman does not see him, go to the huntsman and tell him,
1st where the hare was seen, 2nd how long it had been gone, 3rd which
direction it was going in; a minute lost in giving correct information
will often save many minutes in getting hounds properly on the line.
APPENDIX V.
THE USE OF THE HORN.
_By H. H. Howard-Vyse._
With beagles the horn should be used sparingly, and, except at a kill,
for one purpose only, to call hounds to one. There is little more to be
said except that the sound of the horn carries a very short distance,
and that it should therefore be blown with all the strength that the
huntsman’s lungs permit. To call hounds to one when drawing or casting, a
short blast is usually employed; to bring them on to the line of a viewed
hare, the note should be a longer one causing more excitement; the same
applies to the occasion of a kill; and, in calling hounds together at the
end of the day, it is well to use a long-drawn-out note with a die-away
tinge in it.
FOOTNOTES
[1] As a matter of fact this is incorrect. The actual number of
subscribers in 1859 was 58.
[2] Purchased at end of season by W. Milner (the late Sir W. Milner).
[3] How interesting to hear of troubles with farmers nearly sixty years
ago! The author can definitely state that to-day (season 1921-22) only
one field is forbidden to the E.C.H.
[4] _Eton College Chronicle._
[5] Mistake for Hon. G. Heathcote-Drummond-Willoughby. Lord C.
Cavendish-Bentinck was first whip next year (1887).
[6] Notable exceptions were G. W. Barclay (killed in the War), son of Mr.
E. E. Barclay, M.F.H. the Puckeridge, and K. S. M. Gladstone, who had had
a pack of his own in Essex before he went to Eton. These two Masters of
the E.C.H. undoubtedly did a very great deal to bring the pack to a high
standard.
[7] To-day the season begins, subject to the Head Master’s permission, on
Oct. 15th.
[8] The late Mr. F. H. Rawlins.
[9] Trinity Foot Beagles.
[10] Since Barnett-Barker’s days the subscription has been lowered to £1
10s.
[11] Perhaps this is a fitting place to mention that Bambridge & Co. by
Windsor Bridge set up both masks and pads extremely well.
[12] The record.
ETON COLLEGE
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