The year 1876 was as full of surprises as any that the E.C.H. has ever seen. It was a year of changes, one might almost say of revolution. For ten years the hunt had struggled on since the amalgamation with no very marked improvement in the sport. The pack belonged to various boys. It consisted of hounds of all sizes and shapes. Many things were crying out for reform.

The year did not open with any great promise. None of the whips of the previous season remained to hunt the hounds, and so the office of Master devolved on Rowland Hunt, whose chief qualification was that he was an amazingly good runner. He had never once whipped-in the year before, and is not even mentioned in the Journal Book previous to 1876. But directly the season began, he astonished everyone by the talent and knowledge he displayed. Not only did he prove the most successful huntsman the E.C.H. had ever possessed, but he showed himself to be an organiser of the highest degree. No sooner had he taken over the Mastership than he realised that the hounds were disgracefully kennelled, and that Ward, the kennelman, was making a great deal too much money out of them. He obtained leave from the Head Master to have the hounds removed to kennels at the back of a Turkish Bath in the town. Here he made an arrangement with William Lock, who kept the Turkish Bath. But it is better given in his own words:

“It has been arranged that Lock is to receive £53, for which he is to keep 15 couples of Beagles and do everything for them, in the way of feeding, straw, coal, etc., and that if the Master wishes they should be taken a week before the beginning of the Half to get them in condition. For this £53 Lock’s boy takes the Beagles to the meet and takes them back, etc.”

At the end he says:

“I have found Lock to be a thoroughly steady, honest man, and I think he can be trusted in anything.”

I have mentioned Hunt’s dealings with Lock, first partly because Lock entwines himself in the history of the pack from this time onwards, and partly because the kennels of a pack of hounds are next in importance to the pack itself, and the change of kennels was one of the most important of Hunt’s many reforms.

Hunt in his first season killed 15 hares; that is, he more than doubled the record for any previous season (seven hares by F. Johnstone). In his second season he beat his own record by two. These wonderful results were the effect partly of his talents as a huntsman and partly of the way in which he reformed the E.C.H. He was the first to see the need of three whips at Eton. Moreover they (the whips) soon learnt (for Hunt’s tongue was particularly caustic and his expressions well chosen and to the point) that they were not out hunting for pleasure. Hunt’s tactics were to have one whip wide and forward on each flank, and one with him to stop hounds running heel.

Rowland Hunt has sent me his own recollections of the E.C.H., which I append here:

“When I took the Eton College Beagles, they were kennelled at a house at the end of the Playing Fields towards Datchet. My recollection is that the conditions there were very unsatisfactory, and that the man in charge made far too much money out of them and did not feed them well. I got the then Head Master to have the kennels moved to somewhere over Barnes Bridge, and they were kept by a man named Lock, and, as far as I remember, he did them very well, and I think he took them to the meets. I think we improved the pack considerably by getting fresh hounds, some of which were, I think, obtained from the late Mr. Fellowes of Shotesham Park—about 16 inches—really dwarf harriers, but there was no foxhound blood in them, and they had very good noses and could get along.

“I think the whips knew about as much about hunting as I did, but, as far as I remember, it was roughly the usual way to have one whip somewhat wide and forward on each flank and one with me to stop hounds running heel or a fresh hare. On account of the short time for hunting, we took every possible advantage of a hare and never allowed hounds to potter. We lifted hounds and cut off corners when the chance occurred, but I don’t think it was done enough to stop hounds hunting well. We had to run risks, as it was very difficult to catch a hare in the time allowed between Absence and lock-up. I don’t remember for certain which was the best country; it is too long ago; but think it was towards Maidenhead. I don’t remember any trouble with the farmers, but we got into a deuce of a row with an old gentleman once for killing one of his hares in the middle of March. It was a long day with Mr. Vidal, and I had to go over on Sunday and apologise to the old boy and he became friendly, but I missed Chapel and had to square the Praepostor—wasn’t that the name of the cove who marked you in or out? I think we used to reckon that we went to the meet at about seven miles an hour. May I venture to express the opinion that hunting the hare on foot with 15-inch beagles is real hunting, and real sport, and that the hare has a very good chance of escaping, especially after Christmas? As I dare say you know, a hare is a much more tricky animal to hunt than a fox.”

Hunt’s personality was amazing. He had a way which carried all before it. He was versatile, and, as well as being a wonderful runner, he was an excellent shot, a fearless rider and a good fisherman. He was, moreover, a keen politician, even while at Eton, and has only just given up taking an active share in the politics of the country.

Hunt was a good rider and used to hunt the Wheatland hounds on Arab horses. Some one remarked that “to see him charging great hairy fences was a sight for the gods!”

At Cambridge one day he saw a mounted farmer. “Hi, you elderly, yellow-bellied oyster,” shouted he, “have you seen our hare?” Naturally the farmer was offended, but Hunt smoothed over the difficulty and explained it away by saying that it was one of his most endearing epithets.

And now after not having hunted for some twenty years, he has again taken on the Mastership of the Wheatland hounds. He hunts them himself with two amateur whippers-in.

Hunt was a wonderful runner at Eton. In 1876 he won the Steeplechase with consummate ease, after having lost a shoe early in the race. There was a rule in those days that no one who had previously won a race was allowed to enter for that race next year. Hunt in 1877 started for the Steeplechase in full school dress and finished an easy first, clearing the School Jump at the finish so as not to wet his clothes.

He was slovenly as to his dress, and several stories are told of his appearance. Once he appeared on parade in beagling shoes which he bought from Gane’s in the High Street and wore on every possible occasion. He always ran with his shirt hanging out behind, at least his shirt always came out when he ran. He did not care a button what he wore; his clothes were bought merely with a view to respectability and not to smartness. His language was his own; he had a knack of coming out with peculiar expressions, and yet his personality was delightful. In some mysterious way he smoothed over every trouble. There was only one farmer who gave him any difficulty, and he made friends with two enemies of the E.C.H. On one occasion he disturbed the pheasant coverts of a certain gentleman, who was furious, as was his keeper; but Hunt on going to apologise so touched the heart of the old gentleman that from that time forth he was one of the firmest friends of the hunt. Hunt gives a list of farmers in his time, and his remarks on how to treat them are well worth recording:

“Great care should be taken about Mr. ——, as he is a very awkward customer and an awful snob, and so he must be dealt with very gingerly.

“Those marked * must be called on personally. Game, two pheasants and a hare, must be sent to all these farmers annually as early as possible in the football Half. Be careful to address all with an Esq. to their names.”

It is such little attentions as these that make the difference between a friend and supporter and an enemy. Hunt instituted this custom of sending game to the farmers, and very successful it proved. It has become a permanent custom, and is regularly observed to this day.

Hunt brought the pack to a much higher standard than it had ever attained before, and left the foundations of an excellent kennel of hounds. Some of them, as will be seen from the photograph, were somewhat weak below the knees. But it must be remembered that careful breeding had not yet brought the beagle to the standard of to-day. The sport showed was in every way wonderful. The accounts of his runs in the Beagle Book are very entertaining, and his language was as varied as it was appropriate. Some of his best runs are worth quoting. There were so many good ones that selection is difficult. Here are a few:

“Thursday, March 30th. The meet was Dorney Gate. We soon found to the left and ran slowly for about a hundred yards, when they settled fairly to her, and positively raced as hard as they could lay legs to the ground to the river. Then, turning to the right, they ran through Taplow Spinney (they had run so fast that only Hunt and Bigge, who had got a good start, were anywhere near them). Then they ran on without dwelling for an instant, and bearing to the left and then to the right they skirted Dorney Village, leaving it on the left, and on nearly to Dorney Gate, where they caught sight of her, and so, instead of returning to her form, she made for some haystacks of Mr. White’s, but being routed out of there she made her last effort in the open. But Harmony was too much for her and she was pulled down in the open, after having been run in view for a good half mile. Mr. Fellowes was very quick in getting the hare from the hounds, for which the Master is much obliged. Time, 49 minutes; distance, 7 miles.”

The run that follows is typical of Hunt’s language:

“We found again after a short time and ran like old gooseberry up to Dorney Village, where she tried to enter a garden, but there being no entrance she turned round and made for the G.W.R., which she skirted almost down to that interesting public called Botham’s, where she turned sharp round and made back again to her form. But we had to whip off as it was getting very late. Time, 55 minutes. Having to whip off so many times plays Old Nick with us, but it can’t be helped.”

Here is an unfortunate incident recorded:

“Just after the beginning of the run, we are sorry to say that Mr. Douglas came a real imperial cropper in charging in his usual determined way a very high stiff piece of timber with a huge ditch on the other side. He was so badly hurt that he had to be taken home in a fly. Hunt only managed to get over the fence by landing on his head on the other side, so it was ‘rather a stinker.’”

Referring to a run when C. P. Selby-Bigge had come down for a day’s beagling, Hunt says:

“Mr. Bigge showed us that he had lost none of his ancient speed or powers of endurance, and we were delighted to see his gigantic form once more among us.”

And after they had killed a hare in the River Thames, he said:

“It was a very pretty sight to see the hounds dash into the river without the slightest hesitation, four or five abreast, headed by the old white bitch Bonnybell.”

Here is just one more good hunt:

“Colnbrook Cross Roads. We drew the Island blank but found directly we got outside it and ran well along the side of Richings Park, which she threaded and broke again for the Colne, which she crossed and then recrossed, causing very difficult hunting. Then having got some way before us she began a series of tricks enough to puzzle Old Nick himself, but old Limber seemed to understand her dodges, and it was wonderful to see the way he picked out her doubles and then brought the whole pack round him in a second with one of his well-known notes so welcome to hounds as well as huntsman. We went on thus very slowly for some way when luckily our hare got up again and we got on better terms; but we soon got on to some black fallow and they had to hunt every yard and at last to be lifted on to some grass, where they hit it off again and ran nearly back to the plantation, where she turned round and lay down by the Colne. She got up in view, and they ran well for some little time. But getting on to some black fallow again, they could not even own the line, so Hunt lifted them over and they soon took it up on the other side and ran pretty well over a road and round a pretty big field, where we again viewed her, and this time she went decidedly groggy. She ran some way down a road (bless the roads!) and we had a little difficulty, but we soon got on her in a wheat field, where we viewed her, and she had been joined by another hare. This was a bad job, and Hunt felt rather up a tree. However he halloed to inform the fresh hare of our arrival. Accordingly, when they got to the ditch at the bottom, they separated, and Hunt by a great effort just managed to whip them off the fresh hare, and as our old hare had stopped behind a tree, not being able to get over the ditch, when Hunt got over it he found Mr. Portal at the bottom of the ditch (it was about four feet deep), having got hold of the hare, with the pack worrying and tearing at the hare on top of him. The pack also were most of them in the ditch, and we had quite a job to get him out. Why on earth the hounds did not bite him nobody knew, for he wouldn’t loose the hare and neither would the hounds, so we had to pull the whole boiling up together. He luckily escaped with a scratch or two, and looked very lovely when he appeared looking rather as if his clothes were made of damp mud. The time was 2 hours 25 minutes. An excellent performance for hounds, huntsman and whips, for not only was the scent execrably bad on the fallows, but the hare was one of the strongest and biggest ‘whatever was seen,’ as Mr. Jorrocks would say. It was quite the finest hare Hunt ever killed.”

E. K. Douglas (the late Canon E. K. Douglas, of Cheveley, Newmarket) closed the Journal Book of this good season with the following remarks:

“This ended the season of 1877, one of which the E.C.H. may be justly proud and which we can hardly ever expect to be equalled. No less than seventeen hares were killed and almost every day we enjoyed a thoroughly good run. We cannot praise too highly the exertions of Mr. Hunt, the Master, to whose wonderful skill and pluck the excellent sport enjoyed throughout the two seasons in which he carried the horn is entirely due. His loss cannot be too deeply deplored, while the E.C.H. owe their thanks to Mr. Portal for his untiring energy in the field.

“Owing to the exertions of Rowland Hunt the pack of 1877 was brought into a most efficient condition, and by judicious selection and drafts the foundation of an excellent pack has been made, which it will be the duty of future Masters to maintain.”

One other great reform is due to Rowland Hunt. He realised the necessity of increasing the subscribers, and consequently he obtained leave for 120 instead of 70 boys to run with the beagles. When this limit of 120 became obsolete I cannot ascertain, but no such limit exists to-day.

And now for Lock. Probably he was about the most unconventional kennel huntsman that ever existed. He was short and fat and kept a Turkish Bath in the High Street. How Hunt discovered his capacities for keeping a pack of hounds is a mystery, for he was always to be found in his premises attired in a very brief pair of scarlet bathing drawers.

Lock was quite a character. He grew to have a wonderful knowledge of the country. He seldom went out of a walk and yet always seemed to find his way to the kill. When he was out beagling was the only time when he doffed his bathing drawers and substituted a pair of brown knickerbockers. The hounds were very fond of him. According to up-to-date ideas he did not do them well, but he did his best and kept hounds fairly fit throughout the season. The kennels themselves were rather a ramshackle construction, and not really fit for housing a pack of hounds. But they were an improvement on the old ones, especially as the hounds only spent three months in the year there; and they were considered sufficient by many capable masters right up to the time when the twin Grenfells, those two great Etonians who as every one knows fell in the service of their country, took upon themselves the task of erecting new and up-to-date kennels.

Rowland Hunt left Eton and went to Cambridge, to do for the Trinity beagles what he had already done for the Eton beagles. There is no greater testimonial to his work at Eton than the fact that crowds of Old Etonians flocked to subscribe to the Trinity beagles directly they heard that he had undertaken the mastership. E. K. Douglas, his second whip, reigned in his stead. From 1876 onwards for the next ten years the sport was consistently good. Hunt had brought the Eton beagles to a higher standard of efficiency than they had ever enjoyed before. It merely remained for the succeeding masters to keep up this standard, which, it can be asserted with truth, they have not failed to do.

Douglas was remarkable for his versatility. Few Etonians can boast the honour of having had such a career at Eton as he. Senior keeper of the Field, Master of the Beagles, and a prominent member of the Cricket XI., is a wonderful record for anyone. Here is a letter from R. D. Anderson, a whip in 1878, which includes one or two interesting anecdotes:

“It is difficult to think of special incidents with regard to the beagles in 1878 when I was first whip, but I enjoyed every moment of it.

“Douglas had a delightful personality, and there was no friction of any sort with farmers or school authorities.

“After a strenuous football season, during which Douglas had been senior keeper of the Field, he was obliged, by doctor’s orders, to be rather careful of himself, so that occasionally he had to take a rest from the active duties of huntsman. He was also in the Cricket XI. and got 53 at Lord’s against Harrow. I remember on one occasion, when the hounds were about to cross a road, hearing a lady’s voice call out ‘Stop.’ This was not a request to the hounds or the Field, but an order from Her late Majesty Queen Victoria to stop her wagonette, a carriage she invariably used in her drives round Windsor, to allow the hounds to go by without interfering with the sport.

“On another occasion a stag which was being hunted by the royal staghounds crossed a field which we were drawing, and, although we did our best to whip them off, two-thirds of the pack went after the stag, and we did not get them all back for nearly a fortnight. Only a few months ago I was interested to discover that quite accidentally I had originated the jacket now adopted by the hunt. I never could run unless thoroughly warm, and upon asking Denman & Goddard what was the thickest material they could suggest I ordered a velveteen Norfolk jacket, which I still possess.”

Douglas went into the Church and, I am sorry to say, died about a year ago; he rose to be a Canon and lived at Cheveley, near Newmarket, respected and revered wherever he went.

Invitation meets were always a joy in those days. Once or twice every season the E.C.H. used to meet outside their own country at the invitation of various hospitable people. One of the most favourite of these meets was at Wooburn Green, where a certain Mr. Gilbey lavished hospitality on the master and whips and a few kindred spirits. This particular meet was famed for its luncheons and its hills, two delights which it will at once be seen are scarcely compatible with each other.

Douglas was terribly handicapped by the weather, which was execrable, at least so far as hunting was concerned. Dry winds and a clear sky prevailed throughout the month of March, with the result that very poor sport was shown during the latter part of the season. However he killed eleven hares, a number by no means to be despised when there is only the Easter Half to do it in. He entered in the Beagle Book what must have been some excellent advice to new masters. Some of the previous masters were flooded with useless hounds as a result of advertising for them in the E.C.C.,[4] for in those days few of the hounds actually belonged to the hunt, and even those few were not kennelled at Eton in the non-hunting months, but were walked by different boys at the request of the Master.

Douglas says: “As regards hounds, it is best to insert a notice in the Chronicle at the end of the Football Half to the effect ‘that the Master will be glad to have back any hounds (not belonging to the E.C.H. itself) which were regularly hunted to the end of last season,’ and if he thinks he will want more, it will be found better for him to ask fellows who, he thinks, know a good hound when they see one, to bring any they can, rather than to issue a general invitation to the school. If he does the latter he will probably find himself overwhelmed with every description of cur under the sun.”

There was some discussion as to who should succeed Douglas as master. The present Lord Hawke was approached, but declined in favour of his friend A. H. Beach, who had a pack of beagles at Basingstoke. This is what he says:

“Archie Beach and I were great pals, and on being offered the mastership I said he must take it on as he had a pack of his own at Basingstoke, and would make a much better huntsman. He was an artist at his job, and we had a very good season.”

This season, 1879, was remarkable because the officials of the E.C.H. adopted a distinctive dress for the first time. R. D. Anderson, in the letter inserted above, claims that he introduced the brown velvet Norfolk jacket which became the hunt uniform until 1904. A. H. Beach (now Maj. A. Hicks Beach) says that he asked permission of the Head Master for the master and whips of the beagles to wear a brown velvet Norfolk jacket; the remainder of the uniform was not introduced till later, and the pictures of this time give a peculiar impression of an ordinary school cap and muffler, with dark knickerbockers and stockings of very varied designs, with the rather picturesque brown velvet Norfolk jacket as a quite distinctive feature.

Mr. Gerard Streatfeild writes:

On the very first day that Beach took out the beagles a hare began to swim the river with half the pack behind her. She was brought to land by a man in a boat and was killed shortly afterwards.

Beach was one of the few masters who entered in the Beagle Book the names of those who ran well. On one occasion the name of Aikman occurs, now Col. Robertson-Aikman, who has been Master of Foxhounds for five and Harriers for twenty-two years. He won more of the prizes for harriers at Peterborough Hound Show than any one else, and his sideboard is covered with cups.

Of the Eton Masters at this time, Mr. Vidal, Mr. Cockshott, Mr. Marindin and Mr. Bourchier were very kind, the two former on more than one occasion obtaining leave for bill-days, i.e. a bill off boys’ dinner and Absence. Mr. Vidal left Eton in 1881, much to the regret of everyone concerned with the E.C.H. A more loyal supporter of beagling at Eton than he could not have been discovered, and at the end of almost every season’s beagling at Eton till 1881 the masters have entered in the Journal Book a special note of gratitude for his support. While he was at Eton he used to go up and judge at horse shows. Once he travelled as far as Chicago, U.S.A., in order to judge the Arabs at a great American show. After he left Eton he retired to Suffolk, where he bred horses till his death in 1909. He had a large family, and one of his daughters is the Dame at Mr. Stone’s house to-day.

Once in A. E. Parker’s season (1882) a hare went to ground in a rabbit hole and took a considerable time to unearth. This incident happened at an invitation meet near Reading. Two hares had been killed. The account of the day ends as follows:

“Thus ended a most enjoyable day which afforded the best sport we have had this season. Our best thanks are due to Mr. Hargreaves, whose kindness and hospitality was only equalled by that of his son. The weather had been perfection and we returned to Eton charmed with our day, our sport, and our host.”

Both Daniel Lascelles and A. E. Parker had remarkable Eton careers in the way of sport. Both were in the XI., the Field and the Oppidan Wall, and both were masters of the beagles for two years. Lascelles unfortunately perished of typhoid in the nineties, but Parker is still living. He was for some time master of the North Warwickshire, and his son was master of the beagles at Eton as late as 1916. No less than four different Parkers held office at different times. This is a good record, but it has been equalled by that of the Ward family, three of whom have actually been masters.

These are Mr. Parker’s own recollections of the sport:

“When I was whip and master, and for some time previous, the beagles were looked after by Lock at the Turkish Baths on the opposite side of the street, only a little higher up, to Tap.

“Lock was a great character, and my first acquaintance with him was when a bagged fox was hunted at the end of my first beagle Half; Lower Boys were allowed to go out, and I went. The hounds ran the fox into a hedge on Dorney Common, but would not tackle it. Lock pulled him out by his brush, and he turned round and bit his thumb, so Lock hit him over the head with his whip and killed him.

“When I was whip to Dan Lascelles we met at Dorney Common and ran a hare up to Orkney Cottage near Maidenhead, and back down the side of the river, and eventually picked her up stone dead in a cottage garden on Dorney Common; she was as stiff as a post. I believe the time was 1 hour 20 minutes, but am not sure; it was a hot day and the pace very fast.

“The same year, when hunting a hare at Salt Hill, the hounds brought her back close to the Field, and a cad killed her dead with a stone at about 20 yards. I broke my whip across his shins.

“Frequently when we went into the kennel Lock would come out of the Turkish Bath with nothing whatever on, and with a mop in his hand which he occasionally spun like a torpedo at a hound that happened to be fighting or even scratching.

“One of his favourite expressions out hunting was ‘Pop your whip, Sir; pop your whip.’

“On one occasion, when we had found at Turner’s Nurseries we ran the hare back, and found Lock very busy stopping up the holes in the fence, so that if she ran in she would find it difficult to get out.

“On another occasion we ran a hare dead beat into these same nurseries, and Lock stood quite still in the rows of young green trees, about 18 inches high and very thick, and as the hare came jumping along the rows, which she had to do as they were so thick, he hit at her, but mistimed it and missed her, much to his disgust.

“I was hunting the beagles one day when we ran a hare to the river about 50 yards above the Victoria Bridge. She plunged in, with every hound after her, and it was a very pretty sight to see hare and hounds all in the river together. She swam under the bridge, and they were gaining on her fast and were just about to catch her about 6 feet from the bank. Seeing this, I got hold of a bush with one hand and tried to save the hare with the other. I got hold of something by the ear, but when I pulled it out it was one of the hounds, and we never saw the hare again. I was disgusted, especially as I lost my hold and fell into the river, going clean under.”

Parker had hard luck in his second season owing to the floods, which are always liable to be bad in the low-lying Thames Valley. Indeed, during the great flood of 1894, Sayer, who now holds the post of verger in Chapel, swam across the road outside Baldwin’s Bec (then Mr. H. E. Luxmoore’s, now Mr. Stone’s) and back before breakfast on one pleasant November morning.

There is an amusing incident recorded by Lord Newtown-Butler. After meeting by invitation at Horton Manor they found a hare which successively swam both the Colne and the Brent. Of the latter river he says: “The cold water of the Brent proved no obstacle to the whips and several of the Field, who courageously plunging in swam across. One lucky individual got two young ladies to row him across.” This hare crossed two more streams, and was eventually abandoned owing to the owner of a nursery garden, into which hounds had run their beaten hare, turning the hounds off his land. The run lasted three hours.

On April 15th, 1886, there is recorded an interesting agreement with Lock, which throws some light on the financial management of the pack. Barnett agreed to the hunt paying Lock £84 for the keep and food of a pack between eighteen and twenty-two couples of hounds. This did not include extra expenses and only referred to the Easter Half. It also mentions that the expenses generally amount to nearly £40, which seems to show that Lock did very well considering he was only burdened with them for about twelve weeks.

Mr. Claud Luttrell, a prominent beagler in those times, writes:

“Barnard made me a whip after a long exercise with the beagles, with Harry Boden and myself whipping in; my hound language, which I had learnt from my father’s old huntsman Tom Sebright, decided Barnard in my favour, and the other two whips were Willoughby and Barnett.

“I am writing this letter with photographs of that year’s beagle group on the wall in front of me; Barnard has a hound called Landlord in his lap—a light-coloured hound who helped us to kill more hares than any other hound—wonderful nose and to drive like a foxhound. I have Gamble in my lap, and I can’t remember the names of the others who appear in the group; the prominent members of the hunt who are in the photograph are Guy Nickalls, R. C. Gosling and his brother Willie, Tattersall, Holland, Christian, Pechell, Green, Lord Montagu, Crum-Ewing, Dickinson, Vernon and Stratton.

“The beagles were kept at Lock’s Turkish Baths, and old Lock used to welcome us back at the end of the day in his bathing drawers—he had a huge stomach and wore very small drawers, so was rather an unconventional kennel huntsman in appearance, but the hounds were very fond of him, and his kennel management was excellent. His son, who was a famous runner, used to help him. The kennels were half way down the High Street, and the whips used to stand in the street ‘after 12’ practising cracking their whips, much to their own edification if not to that of the other frequenters of the street.

“The pack was very uneven. One hound ‘Forester’ was over twenty inches. He killed a lot of hares for us, but was always a long way ahead of the pack and prevented their being covered with the proverbial sheet, so we weren’t really sorry when a G.W.R. express put an end to his career on the main line near Slough. Our best sport was in the country between Taplow and Slough, but the railway was always a source of great anxiety to the whips, and there were miraculous escapes of the whole pack being cut to pieces. Lock and his son used to take hounds on to the meet—there was no hound van in those days. We used to exercise on non-hunting days in the Playing Fields, and I can remember some wonderful fast bursts after a cur dog which we often coursed from Upper Club across Sixpenny to the Fives Courts, when he used to get to ground in old Joby’s shop. Rather derogatory to the dignity of the hunt officials, but it helped to keep hounds fit.

“The whips used to get lots of perquisites in the shape of wounded partridges and unsuspecting rabbits, which helped to supplement our evening meal, though hounds were severely rated for running riot; it was some compensation, after running one’s guts out over a heavy plough, to return with a rabbit in the capacious pocket of one’s beagle coat! As far as I remember Barnett’s mastership was very successful also. He was a wonderful runner, and no day was too long for him, but I don’t think he had quite as much ‘science’ as Barnard. His whips were Charlie Bentinck,[5] Claud Pennant and myself. I hunted hounds a few times when he was laid up, and I can well remember the difficulty of blowing a horn when one had run oneself to a standstill over Dorney Common or some 50-acre plough.

“The Eton beagles taught me a lot about hunting, but the most important lesson I learnt was never to hustle a horse over heavy plough, and I am sure my horses ought to be grateful to the E.C.H. for teaching me this lesson.”

Barnett, as a matter of fact, had a much more successful season than his predecessor, equalling Hunt’s record of seventeen hares. His last hunt produced an incident worth recording. “Our beaten hare,” says the Journal Book, “was killed by a lurcher and stolen, but Barnett and Lock went for a policeman while Douglas-Pennant took the hounds home. The policeman, who was a ‘nailer,’ soon got us our hare back.”

After this season it must be owned that the E.C.H. ceased for a time to show such good sport. During the next thirteen years the pack in no way improved, and with the exceptions of the years 1892 and 1898 the sport was inferior on the whole to that of the ten years just recorded.