It was in 1899 that the Golden Age of the E.C.H. began. Every hunt has had its periods of prosperity, and for fifteen years after this date the sport shown by the E.C.H. was all that could be desired. It was a sudden and unexpected revival, and it may be said to have been entirely due to the energy and keenness of Francis and Riversdale Grenfell, the twin sons of P. du P. Grenfell of Wilton Park, Beaconsfield. The extraordinary career of these two boys has already been portrayed by John Buchan. Two more gallant Englishmen never lived. As a life-long friend of theirs wrote, “I would gladly do anything to keep their memory alive.”

They accomplished three things for the E.C.H. They built the new kennels, they bought a new pack of hounds, and last, but by no means least, they secured the services of George Champion as kennel huntsman. And in their time also the services of the late Mr. R. S. de Havilland were enlisted as treasurer for the Hunt; services which were invaluable, in spite of his repeated protests that he had next to nothing to do. A great deal of work devolved on him; the control of the finance, and the auditing of the accounts; occasional visits to angry farmers; the task of general representative of beagling for the Head Master, and the duty of warding off the attacks of the now defunct “Humanitarian League,” a duty in which he suffered a great deal of unjust abuse; all these and many other tasks were patiently and successfully undertaken by him.

The building of the new kennels was the first accomplishment of the Grenfells. The scheme had been suggested by their brother, R. S. Grenfell, in 1894; and proceedings had even gone so far as for circulars to be printed, but difficulties arose as to the Army Examination, and he had to leave too soon. This brother had been killed at Omdurman in 1898, but his idea did not die with him, and directly Francis Grenfell was appointed Master he began the task of raising sufficient money for the building of real kennels.

These kennels were an ambitious task for two boys to undertake, for Rivvy, Francis’s brother, had a big share in the work. Circulars were sent out to Masters of Hounds asking for money and advice, an appeal was put in the Chronicle, and in a very short time £689 0s. 10d. had been collected and the building began.

A site was secured from the College authorities for a nominal rent; and experts were sent to give their advice. Lord Coventry sent the kennel huntsman of the Queen’s Staghounds. The Head Master (Dr. Warre), the Bursar, Mr. R. S. de Havilland, the Huntsman and the Twins all proceeded to the proposed site, and Mr. de Havilland told me he remembered how Francis, wishing to tip the visitor and having no money on him, boldly approached Dr. Warre and asked him to lend him a sovereign, which the Head Master gave with his most amused smile.

The kennels were built on clay on the advice of several Masters of Hounds. Lord Lonsdale wrote a letter showing how clay and lime should be put down and how the foundations should be set. Others that gave advice were Lord Willoughby de Broke, the late Duke of Beaufort, the late Lord Chesham, Sir Ian Heathcoat Amory, Mr. J. Arkwright and Mr. Godfrey Heseltine. They were modelled on the kennels of Mr. W. H. Grenfell (now Lord Desborough), of Taplow Court, where he kept a pack of harriers for ten years, and where the Old Berkeley Foxhounds were kennelled for some time. Everything that was defective in the original was corrected in the copy.

The buildings were finished on February 26th, 1899, and were occupied a week later. In the meantime a difficulty had arisen about the hounds remaining at Lock’s in the High Street. So they were removed to a barn on Agar’s Plough for the time being. It was a great day for the E.C.H. when on March 3rd they were established for the first time in their own kennels with their own whole-time kennel huntsman. The building of the new kennels cost £574 3s. 2d., leaving a balance of £114 17s. 8d. In the meanwhile an excellent letter appeared in the Chronicle of November 17th, 1898.

The reply to this came on Nov. 30th, when F. Grenfell wrote a long letter to the Chronicle, in which he informs us that

“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 itself are a level lot and very good workers.”

This pack was obtained from Mr. P. F. Hancock, of Wivelscombe, Somerset, a well-known follower of the Devon and Somerset Staghounds. There were 13½ couple in all, and the sum paid was £55. The whole of F. Grenfell’s letter is printed in an appendix at the end of the book.

But what shall I say of Grenfell’s other innovation, the introduction of George Champion? He is such a well-known figure to all who have beagled during the last twenty years that it seems superfluous to give a description of him. And yet, for the sake of those who have never had the pleasure of knowing him, I cannot resist making the attempt.

He stands about middle height and his hair is white, but this is almost the only sign of increasing age. His expression is indescribable; he has a kind of mild good-humoured sarcastic look which seldom leaves him, and a pair of eyes that seem to notice everything. Although he wears no distinctive costume his hounds will sight him three or four hundred yards away, even though he is standing against a tree or a railway arch, and when they catch sight of him nothing will stop them from galloping to meet him, unless they are actually hunting.

At the kennels he is always glad to see you, though he may hide his pleasure under a somewhat gruff voice. He will never open a conversation on anything except racing or the weather, but he will answer any question you put to him, and is always willing to help the seeker after knowledge in anything concerning hounds; and, like all old men who have knocked about among hounds all their lives, he can spin a yarn with the best.

For who that hears the name of Champion does not immediately think of the great huntsman of the Zetland? George Champion is his son, and hails from Yorkshire. He was himself for some years a whipper-in to the Zetland and to Lord Tredegar’s Foxhounds until he met with an accident rendering fox hunting for him an impossibility. He can well remember his father hunting hounds in Cambridgeshire, as well as in the Zetland country, and he has inherited his knowledge and love of hounds and hunting. All his brothers possess the same family instinct. A brother was for some time before his death a few years ago huntsman of the Cheshire. Another brother, Fred, is now kennelman to a pack of draghounds in Holland. A third, Bob, is first whipper in to the North Shropshire. It was a great piece of luck that Francis Grenfell should have been able to secure such a man as George Champion.

G. K. Dunning, Master in 1912, gives him high praise, but every bit of it is deserved.

“You asked me in your letter about G. Champion. His position as kennel huntsman to the E.C.H. was, I think, rather a unique one, as in most cases the Master’s knowledge of kennel management was negligible,[6] and a great deal of responsibility thus fell on Champion’s shoulders.

“Champion knew his work thoroughly; the Master generally did not (but thought he did—I speak from my own experience), and small wonder if Champion was apt to lay down the law to the new Master. He always did well with the bitches and their whelps in the summer, and had hounds fit by October, taking them for road exercise on a bicycle with his boy ‘Gidge’ to whip in. After Christmas, when we hunted three or four days a week, it was no easy job for him to bring out a pack of ten-twelve couple from a kennel of well under twenty couple. Yet we never seemed to have a ‘short pack’ out. Champion knew the country and the run of the hares, and was on good terms with the farmers. He was not a great runner, but always seemed to be there when really wanted. Especially was this the case when hounds crossed the railway line. He was not a man of polished manners; his style being more blunt; and any one who did not know him would think him sulky. And I remember his invariable way of taking an order was with the words, ‘Ooh, ah!’

“I think you would go a long way before finding a better man for the job than George Champion.”

Certainly George Champion is not sulky. Blunt he is, but it is his Yorkshire way, and he is always pleasant. Only the other day a little incident occurred at the kennels which illustrates this bluntness.

Champion was sitting by his fireside, enjoying a well-earned rest and planning his daily “doubles.” Hearing what he imagined to be a young Etonian after eggs (which he always has for sale), he called out, “Hullo, what do you want?”

“I’ve come to see the hounds,” said a voice.

“Well, go on through then; they ain’t worth looking at.”

“I walked two of them as puppies,” said the voice, this time obviously that of a lady. Of course Champion was up immediately, only too keen to display his hounds to the best advantage and full of apologies for his apparent rudeness.

Champion always has a circle of boys clustered round him on Sunday after twelves, and it is one of the greatest pleasures I know at Eton to go to the kennels and talk hunting with him. Once after a good run early in the present season I had to go and tell a farmer about some cattle which had broken through a fence in the Ditton country, and I reached the kennels just in time to see hounds fed after hunting. Afterwards I had tea with the Champions, and a very good tea too, and when I got up to go home I found a beautiful ripe apple ready for me to take. We yarned all the time, and he told me of his Yorkshire days and then of the time he was with a pack of bassets, “that ’ud run an old woman down a path; I’ve see’d ’em do it, Sir,” and then also he mentioned the accident that put an end to his fox-hunting career and which did not occur when actually hunting. It must have been a great blow to him, especially as he was the eldest son of so great a huntsman; but he is devoted to beagling now, and takes an immense pride in his hounds.

Champion, when he was young, was an excellent runner and won a great many long distance races. To-day he scarcely ever goes out of a walk, but he is always viewing the hunted hare and is almost always in at the kill. He knows the run of the hares so well that he is continually getting very useful views.

The other day I went to the kennels to try and get him to yarn about the Grenfells. He was not to be drawn, however, and was much too full of the defeat of Tishy in the Cesarewitch for me to secure many stories. At last I asked him how they behaved to each other.

“Ah, there you have me puzzled,” said Champion. “I never knew what to make of ’em. They used to curse each other somethin’ awful before every one. But they were good friends at heart, I believe.”

It was singularly hard luck that Francis Grenfell should have been prevented from beagling after the first three weeks of the Half by a bad attack of bronchitis. It was typical of his generous manly nature to say that “being twins it was only right that we should be first and second and that I should hunt my share and then fall ill and give him his. Throughout he has been my right hand, and to him as much as to me is due the honour of having built new kennels to start the hunt on such a firm footing.”

Grenfell’s other two whips were E. B. Denison and H. K. Longman, son of the Master of the E.C.H. in 1870 and 1871. To him belongs the distinction of being the only Master of the E.C.H. who has been the son of a former Master, with the exception of S. A. Parker, Master in 1917, son of A. E. Parker, Master in 1882 and 1883. Grenfell’s actual season calls for no particular comment. No more does that of H. K. Longman, who succeeded him in office. In fact this season was the worst so far as regards kills since the new pack was obtained, with the exception of the 1920 season when the kennels contained only six couples of old hounds. However, at the end of the Easter Half, 1900, there was a balance of about £300.

It was extremely fortunate that Longman should have been succeeded by R. G. Howard-Vyse (now Col.), the son of the Master and owner of the Stoke Place Beagles. Mr. Howard-Vyse (the father) took the champion cup at Peterborough many times with his beagles, and before Christmas had the right of hunting over the same country as the E.C.H. His son hunted the E.C.H. for two seasons and did much to improve the pack. During his Mastership he obtained leave from the Head Master to hunt first from St. Andrew’s Day (Nov. 30th) and then from Nov. 15th.[7] He also made arrangements with his father, who was always exceedingly kind to the E.C.H. and never made any objections to their hunting previous to Christmas, arranging his meets so as to avoid clashing with them.

Howard-Vyse used all the balance left over from the expenses of the two previous years in building a cottage for Champion and in raising oak palings round the kennel paddock. Both of these innovations were necessary; it was a good thing that he decided to build a cottage, as Champion would not otherwise have remained with the E.C.H.

These are Howard-Vyse’s personal recollections:

“It has been great fun to read my accounts over again, but I fear I have little or nothing to add to them. In fact I can think of two comments only:

“My first year was undoubtedly a very moderate one; we had some baddish hounds and it was a shocking scenting season. The second season was much better, and at the time I thought it very good indeed. But as a matter of fact I should think, looking back with my present experience, that the E.C.H. have probably had many even better seasons since.

“This I should put down to an improvement in the hounds, which began from the time of the Grenfells, two years before me, but did not bear full fruit till after my time. In this connection it was probably a big advantage, apart from any personal ability, that in six years there were only four Masters—myself and Wroughton each twice, and Romer Williams was a good hound man.

“Before the Grenfell twins the whole thing was a very scratch concern, and it would be difficult to exaggerate the debt which the E.C.H. owe to their memory. It requires tremendous push and energy to start the whole thing on a fresh basis, and to raise £1000 for the purpose, which is what they did.

“They were the keenest fellows I ever met; devoted to one another really, but out beagling they constantly cursed one another into heaps. The first hare I killed in my first season, February 5th, 1901, is the hunt I remember best. Chiefly because there wasn’t an atom of scent, and I really ran her to death myself (she must have been very weak!). Hounds were behind, instead of in front of me, most of the way; and we tracked and viewed her practically all the way from the Bath Road near Cippenham to the river at Boveney. There was snow on the ground, and we kept on seeing her about half a mile ahead on the big fields between Cippenham and Dorney Common. I nearly ran my inside out; and eventually, when she was in the river, had to go in up to my middle to get her out.”

If I had to mention any Master whom Champion talks about more than the others, it would be C. Romer Williams, who hunted the E.C.H. in 1904. Champion avows that the reason why he was so successful was that he was not really a first flighter, and by the time he had come up hounds had had plenty of time to fling for themselves, and then, says Champion, “he always did the right thing.” It might be claimed that last year’s Master, T. C. Barnett-Barker, showed excellent sport for the same reason. Certainly he was never in the first flight, but his patience and perseverance were inexhaustible, and they seldom went unrewarded.

Mr. Romer Williams writes:

“I had a very nice lot of hounds when I was Master, about twenty couple as far as I can remember, and only had one real bit of bad luck, having three hounds killed on the railway near Burnham Beeches station one day.

“I was the first Master to hunt during the Winter Half, but no ‘field’ was allowed, only self and whips. During the Christmas holidays I took the hounds home to Northamptonshire, and we had great sport, though they went terribly fast in that grass country. One night, coming home, Champion got cramp in the stomach and fell off the ‘hound van,’ and I nearly drove over him and put an end to his career.

“The best hunt I had was from near Butts to Beaconsfield Common—a point of about eight miles, I suppose. The best day was an ‘invitation’ meet at Colonel Van de Weyer’s—the other side of the river. We caught the first hare in the river after a good hunt of about an hour, then a second one in the open after a very fast and straight twenty minutes or so, and finally yet a third also in the open after a wonderful hunt of about two hours. But all this is in the diary, and I may now be exaggerating.

“The invitation meets at Wooburn, Col. Gilbey’s place, always used to kill me. Those hills were the devil! Col. Gilbey’s son Ronald was my first whip, and I generally used to throw the horn at him, as he was a far better runner than I.

“Not many Masters came out as a rule, but Mr. Robeson and Mr. Slater were fairly regular attendants, if I remember rightly; also ‘Havvy’ on horseback. I never missed a single day all the time I was at Eton. Seasons 1900-1904.

“I believe my year was the last of the old Norfolk jacket livery, and I was sorry they changed it—especially the buttons to brass ones. Next time I come to Eton I will seek you out and will tell you anything else you want to know. Anyway I’d rather be Master of the E.C.H. than anything else. Wouldn’t you?”

C. R. H. Wiggin, now joint Master of the Brocklesby Hounds in Lincolnshire, also sent me his recollections of beagling at Eton.

“I have always been extremely keen about the E.C.H., and can never forget how much I enjoyed my hunting at Eton. Season 1902-03 A. F. Lambert was Master, I myself was first whip, K. I. Nicholl second whip, and St. J. M. Lambert third whip. Archie Lambert was a fine runner, and won the School Steeplechase, and was a good Master. He was a great athlete, kept the Field in which XI. I played myself in 1902, and was also in the Cricket XI. He died in E. Africa; no better fellow ever lived. As far as I remember, we only had two days’ hunting in the Christmas Half, one of them a good day; we found a hare in the field behind the kennels, and after a good hunt killed her in the Moat which runs round Ditton Park. We had a good season during the Easter Half of 1903, and beagling was then very popular at Eton. I regret I have no diary, but I remember one day from Salt Hill railway bridge. We found on Salt Hill, and killed a good hare after about an hour. We then found again on Salt Hill, and after a turn round the hill crossed the G.W.R. and leaving Chalvey on our left and Butts on our right killed her on the G.W. Railway Slough to Windsor. Time, 1 hour 15 min.

“I remember another topping hunt from Salt Hill with Dorney Village on our right, and killing a good hare in the Thames above Athens, but I cannot remember if this was 1903 or the year before; I think 1903. Nicholl and St. J. M. Lambert have not hunted, I think, much since. I am at present joint Master and huntsman of the Brocklesby Hounds with Lord Yarborough, who you will know owns them. Of hounds at my time I fear I do not remember very much. ‘Comrade,’ walked by myself, was an excellent hare hunter, and so was ‘Ranter,’ both large hounds. ‘Witchcraft’ was a rare bitch to catch a hare, and ‘Witchery,’ her sister, a good line hunter. We had a very good invitation meet or two, notably with Gilbey at Marlow, and, I believe, with Howard-Vyse at Stoke. I remember running hard one day in 1908 from Remenham to the London Road beyond Colnbrook, where we lost our hare.”

In 1905, Dr. Warre resigned his position as Head Master of Eton to the great regret of everyone concerned with the beagles. However he became Provost and continued his connection with the School. Champion always swears by him. He used occasionally to go to see the kennels, and always took a kindly interest in the hunt. It was a severe blow to the hunt when he gave up, and it could truly say in the words of a contemporary magazine:

Indeed his work lives on. He had warded off the most severe attacks of the Humanitarian League, and he had set the examples for Head Masters to come. The late Head Master continued the good work, and the Humanitarians have long since ceased to trouble the E.C.H.

G. W. Barclay, son of E. E. Barclay, who is Master of the Puckeridge Foxhounds, was a wonderful heavy-weight runner. He was Master in 1909-10, and had a good season. Champion tells a story of how, at a meet near Bray on the other side of the river, Barclay found himself confronted by an enormous dyke. He plunged boldly in, but, being heavy, stuck near the far side. Champion crossed with difficulty, and by dint of a great deal of pulling and tugging Barclay emerged on the right side, minus his beagling shoes. These were finally rescued by Champion, and the hunt proceeded. Afterwards, when they were sumptuously entertained by, I think, Col. Van de Weyer, Barclay borrowed a pair of flannel trousers which fitted him passably well as he stood up. When, however, he sat down to tea there was a loud crack closely resembling the tearing of flannel, and Barclay backed hastily from the room amid much confusion on his part and laughter from the rest of the party.

Previous to Barclay, S. G. Menzies had hunted hounds for two seasons with signal success, killing twenty-four and twenty-five hares. Not only was he successful in the hunting field itself, but also he was extraordinarily popular with the farmers. He used to write and thank the farmer on whose land was found any hare that gave them a real good hunt.

But Menzies really made his name as a killer of foxes. He hunted five foxes in all, killing three and running two to ground, one of which was evicted and killed. The first fox to be killed was on Nov. 17th. Here is the account in the Beagle Book.

“Went to Dorney after the foxes. We failed to find, however, either in Dorney Court or in the Water Oakley plantations, but, on drawing a turnip field at the back of the village, a fox was viewed away, and getting hounds on close behind raced away over Cippenham Big Field towards Chalvey Marsh. However, he swung right-handed for Mr. Tarrant’s land and passed Butts to the Line. Here he headed left for Chalvey and crossed the Line close by and went to Willowbrook, where he lay down in a thick fence. Putting him up, he made for the Slough Road, but being headed doubled back through the pack, over Mesopotamia and into the Lower Master’s[8] garden, where he got under some logs. However, hounds pushed him out into Jordan and over the Field, eventually killing a full-grown cub in the Fives Courts, after a very fast hunt of 30 minutes. Truly a triumph for beagles. Point of 2½ miles.”

The other great run after a fox found close to Dorney resulted in a kill in the open close to where he was found after a hunt of 55 minutes, very fast, in which a great deal of country was crossed.

K. S. M. Gladstone, who still keeps a pack of beagles in the New Forest, has sent me a letter in which he describes his hunting experiences at Eton.

“I was third whip to Geoffrey (‘Tim’) Barclay (C.M.W.) during the season 1909-1910. He (Barclay) was one of the very best sportsmen and Etonians I have ever had the fortune to meet. He was the son of Mr. Barclay, the present Master of the Puckeridge Foxhounds, and I had the good fortune also to whip in to him with the T.F.B.[9] at Cambridge before war broke out. He was always very quiet, but entirely thorough when hunting hounds, and was a real good judge of a hound himself. During the War I met him in Flanders, just before he was killed serving with the Rifle Brigade. He was the same as ever, and from every account as good a soldier as he was a sportsman and Etonian. I still have a vivid recollection of a hunt during Barclay’s Mastership. We met at Dorney Village on March 8th, 1910. We found in Thames Big Field and ran nearly to Taplow, and then sharp back parallel with the river past Boveney Church and across Dorney Common to the Sanatorium and over the Golf Links to Cuckoo Weir Bridge. Here the hare swam the river, which was in high flood, and ‘made’ the other bank nearly 100 yards lower down stream. Luckily a punt was handy, and, though we lost more ground (or rather water) than our hare had, Barclay took two and a half couple of his best hounds with him, ‘Warwick,’ ‘Leicester,’ ‘Driver,’ ‘Fairplay’ and ‘Dauntless,’ and killed his hare in the paddock on Windsor Racecourse after a very fine hunting run of an hour and 33 minutes. We had several other good hunts that season, but the one described above remains more vivid than some of the others.

“As regards my own Mastership in 1910-1911. It was through no fault of my own that we had (up till then) a record season and killed 13½ brace of hares in 36 hunting days. The three whips, L. C. Gibbs, W. P. Browne, now Master of Lord Portman’s Foxhounds, and W. Holland-Hibbert, were all experts and just as capable, and probably more so, of killing a hare as I was. The previous Masters, Menzies and Barclay, had between them bred from the best hunting strains and moulded a good working pack, all of which were workers, and this is a great asset in a pack of beagles. No word of praise can be too high for Champion for what he has done for the E.C.H. His position is probably unique, as all past and present Etonian members of the E.C.H. must know, and yet, though he always had his hounds fit and well, and despite the fact that he practically lived with them, he was always able to ‘put hounds on’ to the Master and to render valuable assistance in whipping in and getting some very useful ‘views.’ This is a hard accomplishment to achieve when a kennel huntsman has to feed and exercise hounds, and when the Master and huntsman has very little time to get his hounds to know him well and properly, or to supervise kennel management himself. It was a rare occurrence to have a sick hound in kennel during the hunting season, and the kennels themselves were always spick and span and clean. He was good company always, and I have spent many Sunday and other afternoons in listening to his yarns of hounds and hunts gone by. I recall well one afternoon during an Ascot week when I went up to the kennels. Champion had talked more than usual, and the subject was so absorbing that I quite forgot about Absence, and had to chase Mr. Booker down Keate’s Lane to try and explain my absence. The explanation was accepted. Perhaps Mr. Booker had forgotten that we made rather a mess in his garden where I killed my first hare with the E.C.H.! The kennels at Datchet still must be the best beagle kennels in England.

“There is one point I would like to bring up, though it is no concern of mine. That is the breeding of hounds at Eton. Far too little breeding seems to have taken place always. It is much more interesting and better to breed your own hounds from approved working strains than to be compelled to buy hounds whose hunting qualifications and those of their sires and dams are usually unknown. There is naturally no great incentive for a Master, who can only look forward to hunting hounds one season, to breed a lot of puppies when he may never see them hunt a hare.

“All the same, now the War is over, it is suggested, say for two or three seasons, that every good hunting bitch be bred from, and good stud dogs in other packs used, providing of course there are not good stud dogs within the kennel. Fresh blood is always good, and I know the temptation of using your own best stallion hound too much. There must be many keen subscribers to the E.C.H. who would be only too pleased to walk puppies, and it will add to their keenness immensely to see their own ‘walks’ hunting, and to follow their career as long as they are at Eton. It is far better, I think, to breed hounds to hunt and not to win cups, and a bad motive to sacrifice hunting powers for looks, but it is possible to combine both, and it would be very pleasing for all Old Etonians interested in beagling, and a great credit to the Master of the E.C.H., if he were to produce beagles capable of winning at the annual Harrier and Beagle Show at Peterborough.

“I had one red-letter day during my Mastership. It was from Remenham on February 11th, 1911. A hare was found on the plough near the Park, and after a circle opposite the ‘Bells of Ouseley’ hounds pushed her away towards Wraysbury station, where the railway was crossed. Without a semblance of a check Horton village was passed on the right and the hare swam the River Colne. A fine stretch of grass country lay in front and hounds were now screaming. Past Wraysbury Butts the line lay over the Colnbrook Line to Staines Moor, where our hare squatted near Staines station. Hounds worked up to her, but she kept a straight mask, and leaving Staines town on her right entered one of the big reservoirs there and was drowned three minutes in front of hounds after a wonderful hunt of an hour and fifteen minutes. It was about eight miles as hounds ran and a five mile point. All the hounds were up at the end, as were only the keenest of the field; the hound van had managed to get up to us, and we took as many back to Eton as we could in it and on top of it, while the late Mr. P. J. de Paravicini loaded his pony cart with as many boys as possible. The rest got back to Eton ‘somehow,’ a little late for lock-up perhaps, but it was worth it. I warned m’tutor, Mr. R. S. de Havilland, who was then Hon. Treasurer and Secretary of the E.C.H., that he might have some complaints the next day, and that I was to blame, as I forgot in the excitement of the hunt to send the field home. But nothing happened, and it goes to prove that the E.C.H. field is an orderly and sensible one, which does not take advantage of its freedom but appreciates it and its responsibilities.

“When I was Master I had several letters from the Humanitarian Society, and anonymous ones, no doubt emanating from the same source. The former were replied to after good advice given by the Head Master, Dr. Lyttelton, and m’tutor, Mr. de Havilland. The anonymous ones were destroyed! If hare hunting or hunting of any form is to be stopped, I am sure Eton will be the last to give in. Its advantages are so many and so well known that it would be a waste of time to quote them, but I feel that the ‘kill-sports’ think they have an easy prey in attacking College and School packs, while they practically ignore the many other hundreds of packs of hounds in the United Kingdom.

“The size of the hounds at Eton has always been a great source of discussion. You have only, say, two and a half hours on a short winter afternoon to find, hunt and kill your hare, and while 16 and 17-inch hounds do not allow many people to see them hunting, a 14-inch hound is a little too small to give the Master a fair chance to handle his hare in a short time with a large eager field behind him and maybe a moderate scent.

“I would advocate a 15-inch hound as a standard size for the E.C.H. My father gave me leave to start a small pack at home in 1908. It consisted of two and a half couples kindly given me by Mr. George Miller, originally Master of the Spring Hill Beagles. It grew to seven or eight couples, and during the holidays of 1908, 1909, 1910 we had great fun in Essex, with two sporting farmers to whip in, and killed 27 hares in 65 hunting days. The E.C.H. came home one Christmas holidays, and we had the hound van, which was drawn by two grey carriage horses and looked most imposing. Old Mumford, who had a pub. near Windsor Bridge, and who was the keenest follower of all of the E.C.H., stayed with us these holidays, and was greatly liked by all. The above took place at Braxted in Essex.

“We have still got a pack and hunt the New Forest in Hampshire. The pack belonged to the late Sir Frederick FitzWygram, himself an Old Etonian, and was known as the Leigh Park Beagles. They are a splendid lot. Last year we killed 17½ brace of hares in 44 days. The Forest hares are strong, and we hardly ever killed one under the hour, and it often took two hours.”

One day from Dorney Gate the E.C.H. burst up four hares, none of which were actually chopped. This is a record, and is likely to remain one, at Eton.

Some Masters used to take the hounds home with them in the holidays. Romer Williams, Gladstone and Gibbs did this, and hounds fairly raced in the Pytchley country where Romer Williams lived. Champion does not like taking the hounds away from Eton nowadays, but prefers to find someone in the district to hunt them. For the last two years they have been hunted by Mr. Judd, who lives close to Stoke Poges, and handles hounds with considerable ability.

G. K. Dunning (who only gave up the Mastership of the Trinity Foot Beagles last season) created what was up till then a record for hares killed. He accounted for 33 hares and one fox in 45 hunting days. He has sent me some details of his beagling days at Eton.

“One day we went to Fifield Cross Roads on the other side of the river, Col. Van de Weyer having as usual kindly given permission.

“Late in the afternoon, after a fair day’s sport, hounds picked up a line which at first we all thought to be a hare’s. But as they went on and got closer to their quarry the old hounds began to get their ‘hackles’ up, and a few minutes later they ran into a fox in the middle of the village—a fortunate release for him, as he had had a trap on his leg, poor thing. The sporting Rector of the place was passing at the time (it is Garth F.H. territory) and was horrified at seeing a fox pulled down like this, but was satisfied when we showed him the trap.

“This meet at Fifield was a very good one, and we generally went there on whole holidays with about a dozen specially invited beaglers in a second horse-brake. Col. Van de Weyer was always very good about giving leave, and generally sent a mounted groom to stop hounds from the fox coverts on the hill.

“The best bit of country was on the river side of the road, nearly all grass. I had a very good day there in my season. The first hare hounds caught in the river after 25 minutes, but she sank and was not recovered, though St. George dived for her several times. The next hare was killed on the golf course after 1 hour 15 minutes. Very pretty hunting, and a third was also accounted for after a short hunt.

“The other two bits of the country I liked best were Dorney (Village and Gate) and Remenham. There was generally a fox at Dorney beyond the village, and we killed one there in 1913, but without much of a run.

“I think trying to catch a fox with beagles (unless it is a very bad fox or a cripple, both of which should be killed) is an unsatisfactory game, as hounds always take some time to settle down again to a hare. I remember hearing complaints just after the War that the Motor Dépôt at Salt Hill would cut a very large and important slice out of the E.C.H. country. Personally I should have been quite glad never to have hunted there at all, owing to innumerable hares and the risk of the G.W.R. main line. At the same time Mr. Christie-Miller of Britwell was always glad to see the E.C.H., but certainly before the War the number of hares was heart-breaking. Talking of the railway reminds me of the only occasion where I saw a hound of the E.C.H. killed on the line. It was in Gibbs’ season, and hounds had checked by the railway bridge at Remenham. We heard a train coming, and as it approached were sure that hounds were ‘all on.’ But May and I had made a mistake, and one puppy had gone across into the little spinney beyond the line, and now came back right under the train.

“But after hunting near the G.W.R., with its express every two minutes, it was maddening to lose a hound on the Datchet Line. Yet this is just what happened with the Trinity Beagles at Cambridge before the War. The accident happened on the rotten little line to Mildenhall!

“As regards the Masters at Eton who came out, I can remember seeing Messrs. Dobbs, Churchill, Slater and Young, but the most regular beagler was Mr. Dobbs.

“Reference will have been made by my predecessors to the late Mr. R. S. de Havilland for all he did for the E.C.H., not only in keeping the finances straight, but in taking ‘bills off absence’ to distant meets on whole holidays, and often I fear putting himself to considerable inconvenience by doing so.

“I remember in my year we had run a hare from Dorney at a great pace and killed in his garden, hounds had broken up their hare, and only a very mauled pad was saved, which I did not think worth having set up for him. However, he was anxious to have something to mark the event, so Jefferies in the High Street did his best, and I hope the moth has not yet got into it.

“The E.C.H. had one thick-and-thin supporter before the War in ‘Old Mum.’ Mr. Mumford kept a public near the Bridge. As far as I remember, he never missed a day, nor did anyone ever see him run, yet he was always viewing the hunted hare and was invaluable. We used to take him on the hound van for long distance meets, and I hope he goes beagling still. He was one of the best.

“In conclusion I may say that it is a great relief to know that the E.C.H. is on its legs again and showed such good sport last season. The packs at Oxford and Cambridge will now be able to staff themselves from ‘old hands,’ and that means a lot. If one can offer any advice to future Masters of the E.C.H. (and it certainly seems presumptuous), I would say, try and spend more time with hounds in the kennels and at exercise, and get to know your kennel management thoroughly. And, if it ever is possible, get the pack into the stud book.”

There was one disastrous incident in L. C. Gibbs’ year, 1911-12, which Dunning has described for me.

“The Stoke Park Tragedy. We had met at Salt Hill, I think, and after one circle hounds hunted their hare into Stoke Park, where they checked. (Here let me say that there are fallow deer in the Park, that the ground was very soft, particularly the putting greens, and that a ‘medal round’ was being played on the course.)

“Well, a herd of deer was close by and suddenly took fright and galloped off. Up went hounds’ heads, and then the fun began. Some one was out with us on horseback, I think S. G. Menzies, a late Master of the E.C.H., and he did everything in his power to stop them, as they drove the deer round and round the golf course and across the greens, to the horror of the players. Finally they divided, and, while the Master got to one half as they were swimming their quarry in the lake and stopped them, I found three or four couple had pulled down, a deer in the wood behind the club house.