The Spring Horse Shows.

Not where along unlovely waysThe roaring tide of trouble flows—

Not where along unlovely ways

The roaring tide of trouble flows—

but secluded tracts of land, such as still exist in many counties of Wales particularly, were protected, many of our partially extinct birds would avail themselves of the opportunity of breeding again in the old home of their ancestors. In these days of cheap cartridges, few birds that are not catalogued as common, are suffered to exist, and the rarer the species so much the less chance has it of surviving. Speaking generally, the sportsman—I mean the man who is fond of a gun and who protects rather than exterminates those birds and animals not really destructive—is the friend rather than the foe of our wild life, but the class of gamekeeper who, often against his employer’s instructions, kills anything that his imagination can conceive to be harmful or uncommon is responsible for much of the extinction now going on. The loafer who “pots” seals and swallows on Sundays, and earns his beer by selling skins of kingfishers (for the kingfisher is yet another that must now be considered rare) and other rarities to local “naturalists” is a tyrant of the meanest order, a parasite upon his own kind and a terror to all things beautiful and rare. In speaking upon this subject one wishes to refrain from any sickly sentiment, of which there has already been a super-abundance. The effect of much that has been written and spoken on the extinction of our wild birds has been neutralised on account of the rabid and ultra-sentimental way in which enthusiasts have expressed their views and feelings, and, as in the case of “vivisection,” many people who might have been workers for good have been reluctant to join forces with those who have clamoured and preached so extravagantly. Owing to the efforts of private individuals and the various societies, a great deal has been done to protect the wild life that is annually becoming scarcer; but much remains to be done, and most particularly in the case of those few straggling remnants of our avifauna, viz., the bitterns and bustards, hen-harriers and marsh-harriers, eagles and kites, hoopoes and ravens, and others of that sad, long list of birds, the most beautiful and noblest that ever gave lustre to our avian population.

It is strange, too, that all, or nearly all, these declining races were denizens of the marshlands or the mountain where the voice of a bird is ever such a welcome sound, and to-day when the chilly winds of a March evening drive through the lank, dry grass with a whistling sound, or surge and whisper in the heather, to which still cling last year’s faded flowers, when the curlew and the plover break the solitude with their wild, yet plaintive cries, when the last dipper has shot like a black dart round the bend of the stream, and the skylarks, that have been joyously singing far up in the sky the day long, have sank silently into the beds of rushes, then, when the wind sinks away into the still dark valley below, one feels that Nature is still waiting and listening for the ringing boom of the bittern to herald the birth of the marshland spring. But only the shepherd’s dog barks intermittently in the darkness, and a voice like that of some belated sheep falls dreamily upon the air of night. Up there, where the club moss stands sturdily in the crisp snow, the grim old rocks that have witnessed man’s coming, and will, perchance, witness his passing, look down upon these “haunts of ancient peace,” and we ponder over the changes that time has wrought in the solitary spot.

A. T. Johnson.

The Spring Horse Shows.

At no other times, perhaps, have there been such opportunities to obtain lessons in almost everything that concerns horses than at the three shows, for the Shires, the Hackneys, and the hunters. For the last quarter of a century the right roads have been taken to develop and improve the English breeds, and in that comparatively short space of time the effects of sensible and scientific breeding have been quite wonderful on materials existing years, almost centuries, ago, but neglected by past generations, and often enough nearly lost. Now it happens again that everything is in its pristine excellence, but even better, and presenting really a great British industry in which no rivals can be feared, and one that might help the ever difficult problem of what to do with young England, the over-population that want new lands for farming, and more especially for breeding and rearing horses. Englishmen can do it better than others, as has been seen at these shows, but they want lands that are not over-rented, rated and taxed, and under such conditions thousands might leave these shores with altogether unsurpassed stock to breed horses for the mart of the world. Will South Africa, Canada, or other territories at present belonging to the Empire, be made available? But that is a political question; governments must see to it. All the public has to think about is that the English breeds are now perfection; and, to begin with, there is nothing greater than those known far and wide as

The Shires.

MESSRS. FORSHAW’S PRESENT KING II. 19948.Champion Stallion at the London Shire Horse Show.Photo by F. Babbage.]

It was not so much in regard to the numbers as the quality that made the show of these farmers’ friends so great, and it may be that the development of this element is so noticeable in the Shire as to make it a very satisfactory occupation to breed him; it has specially fascinated many great personages and sportsmen, from His Majesty the King downwards, the exhibitors now including the Duke of Westminster, the Duke of Marlborough, Marquis Campden, Earls Ellesmere, Egerton of Tatton, Bathurst, M.F.H., Spencer, M.F.H., Beauchamp, Lords Middleton, M.F.H., Southampton, M.F.H., Rothschild, M.S.H., Iveagh, Winterstoke, Hothfield, Sir Berkeley Sheffield, Bart., Sir Walter Gilbey, Bart., Sir William Cooke, Bart., M.F.H., Sir Edward Stern, Sir Albert Muntz, Bart., the great welter of the Midlands, the Hon. R. P. Nevill, M.F.H., and others of rank and wealth. The extension of the movement in regard to improvement is indeed very marked. That the patrons of foxhunting should ally themselves so closely with the Shire interest is possibly owing to the desire to see the noble pastime identified with agriculture. It is doing good to promote such a breed, both for the cause of the landlord and the tenant.

From the yearling colts to the oldest of the stallions it was all quality, and although the examples are bigger to-day than they have ever been, they have more agility in their movements, are cleaner cut about their heads and jowls, and more majestic in carriage. For the enormous class of sixty yearling colts it was an honour indeed to take the first, which fell to Mr. Frank Farnsworth from a great hunting district for the promising young son of Lockinge Forest King hailed from Tooley Park, Hinckley, within easy access of the Quorn and Atherstone. Leicestershire appears to be the land for Shires, as besides Mr. Farnsworth’s stud, which must be of great fame to include such colts as Ratcliffe Conquering King and Ratcliffe Forest King (the latter very nearly the winner of the two-year-olds, as he was second in a class of seventy), there were several others from the hunting county. In Warwickshire also they seem to thrive, as few more beautiful exhibits were seen at the show than those of Sir Albert Muntz from Dunsmore, his three-year-old mare winner, Dunsmore Fuchsia, being quite a model of her sort; all Sir Albert’s ten exhibits were in the money or amongst the commendations.

Lord Egerton of Tatton sent up some very notable entries from the old Cheshire cheese country; the defeat of the grand six-year-old stallion, Tatton Friar, was much regretted by many onlookers: but it followed a very notable victory in the two-year-old class of 70, in which Tatton Dray King was the winner: it is something for one stud to take the two-year-old colt and the two-year-old filly class, for the latter fell to Lord Egerton with Tatton May Queen, a great beauty.

MR. RAMSAY’S DIPLOMATIST, 7043.Champion at London Hackney Show.Photo by F. Babbage.]

His Majesty, who goes in for everything useful on his Sandringham estate, was an exhibitor of five, and a popular success was that of Ravenspur, the thickest of horses on the shortest of legs; and here again it was Leicestershire soil that claims credit for this success, as the winner was bred by Sir Humphrey de Trafford at Hill Crest, Market Harborough, making good the saying that where bullocks can fatten and hounds can run, is the ground for the Shire. Lincolnshire, though, is always a likely quarter, and the champion of the show hailed from this county in the shape of Present King II., a very remarkable horse; although eight years old this grass, he has been unknown to the general public until now, and it says something for Mr. James Forshaw’s judgment to have found him. He was bred by Mr. Joseph Phillipson, of Hainton, Lincoln, and as he is a coal-black horse, with very little white about him, and his dam is by Black Prince, he is living evidence of the old Black horse reported to have been almost lost in its purity. Anyway, he is a very bold, fine horse of quite the biggest size.

Lord Rothschild was not in the same lucky vein as he was last year, in that the defeat of his champion, Girton Charmer, by an unknown quantity like Present King II., was irritating; that the hitherto unbeaten Childwick Champion should be beaten for the Special Cup by the two-year-old winner, Tatton Dray King, was hardly expected. The great Tring Park stud, though, won in other classes amongst the mares. It was, in all, a very great show, though not without its disappointments, as horses previously undefeated went down before new-comers. Among the mares, as among the others, Mr. James Forshaw had found another in the grey, Sussex Blue Gown, to win in her class, and she beat Lord Rothschild’s Princess Beryl for the Champion Cup, the famous Nottinghamshire stallion owner thus taking both cups for the horses and the mares. The sales were good but not sensational, the only exception being when Lord Beauchamp gave 510 guineas for the champion mare alluded to.

MR. W. SCOTT’S MENELLA 16799.First and Champion in Harness at the London Hackney Show.Photo by F. Babbage.]

The same view must be taken in regard to success of the Hackneys. The progress made with this breed is perhaps more noteworthy than that made with the Shires, as in the absence of so much patronage from the greatest people in the country, the breed has been brought to a wonderful state of perfection, and evidence of the same sensible and scientific breeding can be easily traced. Moreover, signs were not wanting to show that the foreigners are keener in their endeavours to get possession of our Hackneys than they are at present to purchase our Shires. Two large Government commissions were noticeable, at any rate, namely from France and Germany, for the purchase of a goodly number of stallions, and Holland took the champion of the Show for 1,000 guineas. This desire to get the best of English sorts is not due entirely to the demands for cavalry breeding, but the wise councils of other European countries consider that an industry to give the means of prosperity to thousands of subjects is well worth cultivating. This, too, on circumscribed lands with little or no colonial extension; but England, with her millions of acres in all parts of the globe, possessing better animal stocks than all the rest of the world put together, is neglectful of her opportunities. Why cannot her sons be set up in far-off lands to breed horses for the world? But to these magnificent Hackneys: It cannot be denied that the Dutch have got possession of a very grand specimen in Diplomatist, whose lot it must have been to do good in a variety of countries. He was first of all shown at the Hackney Society’s Show as a yearling; then, after doing some service in England, he was sold to America, where he got some stock of note before Mr. Heaton brought him back to England and sold him to Mr. Ramsey, of Kildalton, Port Ellen, Islay, N.B. And here let it be said that Scotch breeders have done uncommonly well at this Show. Mr. Ramsey, a prominent breeder in the northern country, won the Champion Cup last year at the London Show with Diplomatist, and now repeated the victory before selling the dual champion to Holland. Diplomatist is a very beautiful horse of about 15.2, with extraordinary action; his pedigree contains some of the best blood in the Hackney Stud Book, for he is by His Majesty out of Garton Birthday, by Garton Duke of Connaught. There were several fights in the Show between the North and the South. Sir Walter Gilbey equalised the pretensions of Yorkshire and Norfolk, when he brought Danegelt down South, at a cost of 5,000 guineas. Since then the champions of Essex and Norfolk have held their own with those of the many-acred county. Sir Walter has won the championship twice with Royal Danegelt, a son of Danegelt, and it looked as if the Essex baronet might score again in another generation, as Bonny Danegelt stood in a long time with Langton, a grand twelve-year-old horse by Garton Duke of Connaught, and many thought should have won. It was not to be though, and this particular prize went to the north, Langton being the property of Mr. E. C. McKibbin, of the Heaning, Windermere, though bred by Mr. Thomas Hall, of Copmanthorpe, the owner of the great Garton Duke of Connaught, who was summed up to me last year at the Yorkshire show as the greatest hackney sire in the world. He was certainly in the full order of success now, as the Messrs. Hall, father and sons, showed some beautiful stock by the veteran, including the two-year-old colt winner, Copmanthorpe Performer, a truly symmetrical animal with singularly beautiful action. There was also Administrator, owned and exhibited by Mr. Walter Burnell Tubbs, another son of this Duke of Connaught, a wonderfully handsome horse who showed grandly in harness. Last year and the year before he won the Champion Cup for his then owner, Mr. Galbraith. He is nearly, if not quite, as good as Diplomatist.

MR. T. SMITH’S PINDERFIELDS HORACE.Champion Hackney Pony Stallion at the London Show.Photo by F. Babbage.]

The points that struck one throughout the whole show was, that breeders have got to a type that comes down quite as regularly as in the thoroughbred horses of the General Stud Book. Royal Danegelt was the copy of his sire, Danegelt, and the former at this Show had a number in precisely the same form in shape and action. They are getting a bit bigger, as in Class 8, for horses over 15.2, there were sixteen in the ring, and several must have been very close on 16 hands. It is notable that the foreign buyers were very interested in this class, and made two important purchases from it in Forest Star, who was placed third, and the above-named Diplomatist. A suggestion is given here that the size attained in the Hackney is a useful element in regard to success. It was generally thought that the horses made a better show than the mares; and, in truth, there were fewer mares than usual, but whether from the fact that a great many were sold last year, or that breeders are chary about sending their valuable breeding stock to shows in the spring, it is difficult to say. Many of those that were seen though, were beautiful animals. Sir Gilbert Greenall’s Colleen Rose, by Garton Duke of Connaught, could scarcely be excelled as a fine carriage mare of quality, and Menella, the champion harness mare, was a great beauty with action of a most superb order. An extraordinary horse must be her sire, Mathias, as, to judge him from a photograph he gets all his stock exactly like himself, and with the same wonderful movement. Another as remarkable in this respect is Sir Gilbert Greenall’s Sir Horace, under 14 hands, as he had nine winners at the Show all looking the exact types of perfection—bloodlike heads, beautifully laid shoulders, round barrels, moulded quarters, and limbs set under them in the same stamp. What has the breed come to from the shapely Diplomatist and Bonny Danegelt, to the ponies, Pinderfields Horace and Little Woman, for all these and many more the word beautiful cannot be misapplied—and the Show might well have been watched for the full four days to see by the pedigrees, the make and shape and the action more real now than artificial, and to wonder whether the present conditions of the so-called Hackney can ever be surpassed.

The progress so noticeable in regard to the thoroughbred stallions forms an important feature of the great spring shows. There was first of all a better entry than those of the past three years, and it would appear that the owners of horses have been educated into the exact ideas in respect to the requirement. It was a movement in the right direction certainly to give some evidence in the catalogue as to what horses had done on the turf, and still more to empower the judges to act upon the information provided. The net result of all being, that there was hardly a stallion exhibited that was not perfectly suitable for the purposes of the Commission. With but the fewest exceptions the horses had all been winners; some that had been known on the racecourse for over seven years, and others that had won very important events. There were 107 in all, and as this did not include any from Ireland, we have the satisfaction of knowing that we are very well off for useful sires at the present time.

LORD MIDDLETON’S STALLION WALES.Winner of a King’s Premium in District Class E (Yorkshire).Photo by F. Babbage.

There were some splendid classes brought into competition on March 13th, the one scheduled D perhaps being the best, as here was the beautiful horse Battlement by Enterprise, out of Ivy Mantle by Mask. He is the winner now of four premiums, and has done a great deal of good. When the property of Mr. A. O. Haslewood, of Buxton, he travelled in Derbyshire and Staffordshire, and since his owner has been Colonel Jago Trelawny he has done service in Cornwall and the South of Devon. The farmers of these western counties swear by him already, and there will be great rejoicing round Plymouth, as, besides Battlement, there was a very good four-year-old called Rockaway, by the good Australian Trenton, son of Musket, belonging to Mr. Bickell, of Tavistock. So clever did the judges think Rockaway that they gave him one of the four premiums. Mr. Bickell also showed the well-bred Mon-Roy, by Orme, out of Mon Droit by Isonomy. And another Devonshire candidate was Flaxby, quite a hunter-getting sort by Barcaldine, out of a Palmer mare. So Devonshire is evidently well off in hunting stallions. Then, still in this D class, too much cannot be said of Rightful, improved into quite a charming horse. Rightful comes from such a handsome family by Rightaway, out of Repletion by Satiety. He is one, too, for whom racing merit can be claimed. Kano, another Trenton, and a good winner, had also much to admire about him, and as one of the reserved, he became available for one of the classes not so overstocked with merit. It is always well to see Yorkshire to the front, and really there was little to surpass the magnificence of Wales in the whole show. Big and powerful, with plenty of timber, and blood-like withal, besides the knowledge that he was a right-down good horse on the flat and over a country. To show what he can get, too, Lord Middleton made a great hit in the group of young hunters by Wales; they were quite away from the stock of other stallions, albeit very good ones by Red Prince II. and Pantomine were shown. But to the Yorkshire class: There was also Frobisher, a very nice horse by Mr. H. Waring’s Buccaneer, made a premium winner: and although he did not quite get into honours, save a reserve, I thought there were few better than the Manchester Cup dead-heater, Roe O’Neil, by Sweetheart, who used to get almost as many jumpers as Victor, out of a Ben Battle mare. The Yorkshiremen are sure to take to Roe O’Neil. Garb d’Or was also unlucky to get a reserve only, as he is a very handsome son of Bend Or, and quite in the family type, Birdcatcher spots and all. In the Gloucestershire, Herefordshire, Warwickshire, Worcestershire, &c., Class it was a treat to see the long, low level Curio win again, after knowing full well the good he has done in Warwickshire; and a charming young horse was shown here by Mr. Haslewood, of Buxton, and that gentleman invariably picks up the best, as Red Eagle once belonged to him, then Battlement, and now Landsman, a son of Ladas, and a Gallinule mare; and so what blood for a hunter! Another that kept haunting me with his blood-like outline and quick, sharp action, was Mr. C. M. Prior’s Rathburne, a winner of the Brighton Stakes in his time, and the judges rightly took to him. The executive was very wise to get Sir Charles Nugent and Mr. J. M. Richardson on their bench of enquiry, as they were not likely to make any mistakes.

MR. DRAGE’S KING EDWARD.First and Champion at the Hunters’ Improvement Society’s Show.Photo by F. Babbage.]

After much had been seen in regard to the hunting sires themselves, it was all the more interesting to follow in the steps of the Hunters’ Improvement Society, and at no show has the results, in the shape of produce, come out so satisfactorily. The four-year-old winner, Splasher, bred and shown by a tenant farmer, was by Burnock-Water, four times a King’s Premium taker, and the three-year-old filly, and champion of all the young hunters, namely, Watercress, belonged to the same owner, and was by the same sire. This was precisely what the Royal Commission has aimed at, to enrich the tenant farmer. There were many other results to observe in the same direction, notably in the case of Battlement, presented with two Premiums in the past career for Staffordshire, Shropshire, Warwickshire, South Wales, &c., and from Shropshire came the beautiful Bandetta, by Battlement, who was unlucky not to have won in her class. Then there was Havoc, well known at the Royal Commission Shows, and the sire of Destruction, a winner in this; and the second to the champion filly, Watercress, was Paleface, by Ringoal, who was introduced into Huntingdonshire by the Royal Commission. Added to this also, there was stock of great value seen by Wales, including four in the group, and the second and third in the three-year-old class, won by Destruction. The champion of the show, Mr. Drage’s (now Mr. Cory Wright’s) King Edward, had unfortunately no pedigree given, though doubtless extremely well bred, and the question arises as to whether all the societies now are not strong enough to insist on pedigrees at entrypro bono publico.

One might go on writing inBailyfor ever about these shows, as they have taught us a great deal in the last few weeks; and something might be said to the Government about the horse-breeding industry, and of its vast importance to the British empire.

G. S. Lowe.

The Sportsman’s Library.

Mr. Rawdon Lee’s work established its claim to place as the best and most comprehensive book published on dogs when it first appeared. The third edition of “Modern Dogs (Sporting Division)”[8]is now before us, and the contents bear evidence of exercise of all those qualities which stamped the earlier issues: wide and intimate knowledge, patient and exhaustive enquiry.

The title may be said to fall short of the scope of the work; for the author’s pages contain much relating to the history of the older breeds which lends additional interest to his remarks on their modern descendants, and additional value to the work as one of record.

KERRY BEAGLES.From the drawing in “Modern Dogs (Sporting Division).” (Reproduced by permission of the Publisher, Mr. Horace Cox.)

Certain new features are noticeable in the third edition. The portraits of those famous greyhounds Master M’Grath and Fullerton were well worth inclusion, the more so as given on one plate which, as Mr. Lee observes, affords opportunity to compare the remarkable dissimilarity in build and conformation between the two most celebrated dogs of their respective periods, the seventies and the nineties. Admirers of the Welsh foxhound will appreciate the inclusion of Mr. Wardle’s clever drawing of two couples of representatives of this breed, famed as far back as the tenth century, if the hounds appraised in the Laws of Howel Dha were the ancestors of the modern animal. The author believes that the Ynysfor pack, owned by Mr. Jones, of Penrhyn Deudraeth, is the one which boasts the greatest purity of Welsh blood, but he does not think there exists in Wales or elsewhere “an entire pack of the pure Welsh hound, either of harrier or of foxhound stamp (for there are two varieties) with the wire-haired crisp coat.” The hounds which furnished Mr. Wardle for his portraits were from the otterhunting establishments of Mr. Wynn, of Rug, now given up, and from that of Mr. E. Buckley. The value of the Welsh hound for otterhunting has long been appreciated in the Principality. Mr. Buckley considers those he possesses better than the otterhound, as they feel the cold less, and their shorter coats dry more quickly. Summing up all the evidence for and against the Welsh hound, Mr. Lee holds that a capital case in his favour has been made out. Another new illustration is that of examples of the Kerry beagle; this breed survives, so far as is known, only in the kennels of Mr. Clement Ryan (the Scarteen). In that of Mr. Aubrey Wallis, Master of the recently established Millstreet Harriers, the blood of the Scarteen black and tans has been used. The Kerry beagle’s origin has been traced to the south of France, whence Mr. John Ryan brought them some time during the latter half of the eighteenth century. Among the new matters which has been added to the gun-dog section we must notice the Welsh springer, which in 1902 was accepted as a distinct variety, and allotted separate classes by the Kennel Club.

The author reviews the evidence advanced by the advocates for this step, and the Welsh spaniel takes his place among modern dogs; deservedly, for this is a hardy, courageous, docile dog, and possesses excellent nose. The Welsh variety stands out much higher on the leg than other spaniels, and Mr. Wardle’s picture gives the idea of a dog at once sporting and handsome. The third edition of Modern (Sporting) Dogs is in every way a worthy successor to its forerunners. Higher praise could not be given.

The building of cottages in the country is a matter that has attracted much attention latterly, and this little work,[9]though it embraces the erection of buildings other than the labourer’s cottage, will be found of practical assistance to all who may contemplate building as a business. The authors display practical knowledge of their subject, from foundation to roof, if we may use the expression, and they show up in a lurid light the wanton absurdity of the building laws now in force in some localities. This is a subject to which public attention was drawn by the public-spirited action of Sir William Grantham not very long ago; and in the interests of the poorer classes it is much to be hoped that the more unreasonable clauses of these bye-laws will be revised to make cottage building possible. All classes of small dwellings, from that which costs £1,000 downwards to erect, are considered; and most of the materials in general use are dealt with. An exception occurs in the clay blocks, which, protected by weather boarding, Sir Walter Gilbey has so successfully employed on his Essex property. This method of construction, cheap, efficient, and picturesque as it has proved, deserves to be more widely known. The pictures, drawings, and photographs are admirable, and the plans are clearly and well drawn.

Bridge is said to be losing some of its vogue, but the appearance of a fifth edition of the work[10]by “Cut Cavendish” seems to contradict the assertion. As the author observes, “unfortunately, with many people it has developed into a form of disease.” This is true, but the regrettable fact that bridge takes the shape of monomania with some enthusiasts does not affect the merit of the game, which, pursued in moderation, deserves all the praise bestowed upon it. The author has, as in previous editions, made a point of giving counsel and explanation in the most lucid form, and his book may be cordially recommended to all who wish to improve their play. We had been about to say “who are learning the game,” but hesitate to use a phrase which should imply the existence of any one who has failed to master it! A welcome addition to the work is an exposition of “Misery bridge.”

Not only is this form of the game an excellent one for two players, infinitely superior, in our judgment, to double dummy bridge, it is a capital education for the four-handed game. It may safely be said that any player who has attained to proficiency in misery bridge may take a hand in the parent game without fear of incurring those silent anathemas which befall the incompetent player who ventures into skilled company.

Half-a-dozen short stories are included in this little book,[11]the title of which promises a Turf atmosphere. Two of the collection, however, deal with racing, the others having scarcely a bowing acquaintance with the course. All are readable, nevertheless, and may be recommended as suitable to while away the tedium of a railway journey.

“Our Van.”

It was with a certain zest that we turned to the Sandown Park meeting that occupied the first three days of March, for the racing of the preceding fortnight or more had been sadly lacking in interest. The first of the three days was denominated the Sandown Park March Meeting, the Grand Military occupying the next two days, and the sport, on the whole, was of an interesting character. On the Club day the appearance of John M.P. in the Liverpool Trial Steeplechase was an event in itself sufficient to account for the distinctly large attendance. It was a weight-for-age race, and the winning of it did not entail any penalty for the Grand National, save in the case of a horse that had already won a steeplechase of three miles or over since the date of closing. John M.P. had already won such a race when he beat pointless Desert Chief and the untrained Kirkland, at Hurst Park; but the penalty entailed would not signify very much, the weight assigned to John M.P. in the Grand National entitling him to a deduction of half the penalty, in his case 4 lb., so that only 2 lb. extra would have to be carried. A strong impression was also abroad that John M.P would not start for the Liverpool race, but be reserved for the valuable steeplechase at Auteuil in June. That he would win this race seemed to be taken for granted, since 3 to 1 had to be laid on, which was holding the other Grand National horses in the race somewhat cheap; but of course the weight-for-age conditions made all the difference. The three and a half miles did not worry John M.P. in the least. Nothing else could go fast enough to make him really gallop, and a loud exclamation of admiration from the stands burst forth spontaneously when at the water the second time he gained a matter of three lengths from the then leader, Wolfs Folly, in front of whom he cantered home. What he had in hand it was impossible to say.

That any one of the old-time functions is a patch upon what it was formerly is naturally not admitted by the old brigade, whose opinions are, of course, expressed in the usual manner upon the Grand Military. That gentlemen riders of forefront ability are scarce is not to be disputed, and possibly the winner of the Grand Military Gold Cup of the day could not compare in class with many of his predecessors; but the old sporting spirit is still there, and the Gold Cup is coveted as much as ever. Two or three months previous to the meeting a vigorous quest was in progress with a view to securing a potential winner of this race, and in this way Royal Blaze was purchased for, it is said, £500. The purchase proved to be a happy one, for Royal Blaze won the cup for Mr. R. F. Eyre. It was a lucky win, perhaps, but one that was well deserved, Royal Blaze being sent to make the best of his way home from the mile post, whereas Prizeman, whose rider lacked experience between the flags, left matters so late that, although he was going two yards to the one of Royal Blaze and Prince Tallyrand in the last hundred and fifty yards, he had to put up with third place, two heads behind the winner. It was a desperately exciting finish, and when the post was passed the race was not over, for Mr. R. C. de Crespigny, the owner of Prince Tallyrand, laid an objection to the winner on the technical ground that a contingency had not been properly registered. Such an objection had been forestalled by an application at Weatherby’s, where everything was declared to be in order. The stewards, on the second day, over-ruled the objection, but Mr. de Crespigny did not let the matter drop, pressing for an appeal. The laying of technical objections in such races was formerly not thought of, and possibly the breaking of this chivalrous custom gives the old brigade a genuine opportunity for pointing their moral.

On the second day we saw a remarkable performance over hurdles on the part of Rassendyl, the hurdle-racer who has so rapidly made a name for himself this season. He was carrying the nice little steadier of 13 st. 3 lb. and, what was so astonishing, all but carried it home. Such was the confidence in him that his jockey did not hesitate to make running. When half the distance of two and a half miles had been covered, Rassendyl was dispossessed of the lead, but lay by handy, and took command again at the first of the two flights in the straight, in spite of having been carried out wide at the bend. He led to the run-in, where, however, Bellivor Tor challenged and won by a neck. We English are hoping that Rassendyl will be sent to Auteuil and further theententeby winning the big hurdle-race there. The success of an English horse in France is by no means necessarily unpopular with the French betting public, which means a few tens of thousands, for, if he be a good one, national pride goes into the pocket, and they are on him to a man, to say nothing of the women. The numbers of frugal Frenchwomen who slave all the week, but have five or ten francs on every race on Sundays, is astonishing to the stranger from this side of the Channel. But on the Continent there is less fear of Mrs. Grundy than here.

The racegoer, as manufactured by the modern “park” meeting, is unable to understand the interest that is taken in the annual National Hunt Steeplechase. Here we have £1,000 given for a race for five-year-olds and over, the primary condition of which is that no runner shall have previously won a steeplechase or hurdle-race, or a flat race of any description; point-to-point races not counting as steeplechases. This, at one fell swoop, abolishes all notions of “class,” a feature which we find emphasised by last year’s winner, Miss Clifton II., who for years had tried to win this race and several others, without, of course, succeeding. When, during a dark period of mistaken policy, the National Hunt Committee apportioned the race to Metropolitan enclosed courses, bearing no sort of resemblance to the real thing, the Londoner had perforce tried to grasp the inwardness of the race, but failed. Such form as there was puzzled him, which means that the betting was not to his liking; and that is the only side of racing which interests him. How so many people could take the interest they did—and as just as many still do—in the doings of such mediocre public performers was always beyond him, as it always will be. To enjoy the National Hunt Steeplechase in the way it has been presented in more recent times at Warwick and Cheltenham, one must have been educated amongst hunting surroundings. To such this class of racing talks a language utterly incomprehensible to the others referred to, who, understanding nothing of the niceties of cross-country riding and unable to appreciate the qualities of a cross-country horse, have no interest whatever in a race beyond the position occupied at the finish by the animals they have backed.

If one were called upon to decide between the Cheltenham and Warwick courses, one might be inclined to vote for Warwick, although there is not so much in it so far as the actual course is concerned, each presenting a neat assortment of grass-land and plough. But at Warwick we possess the not insignificant advantage of being able to see nearly every yard of the four miles, the hill, from which outsiders obtain such an excellent view, being all there is in the way of those in the stands, where the accommodation, although not precisely up to date, is much better than that at Cheltenham. The meeting at which the race takes place is one concerning the success of which no doubt has to be entertained. The county people could not be made to stay away by any sort of weather, so, although rain was threatening on Thursday, the 8th ult., the county stand, from the condition of which I should judge of the success of this particular meeting, was crowded with the right sort. So far as owners were concerned there was every evidence of the popularity of the race in the large field of twenty-eight that ran. This number has rarely been exceeded, a notable occasion being the race of 1860, in which year, I fancy, the event was inaugurated, and when thirty-one ran. One can have but little sympathy with those who suggest that two-thirds of the number might as well have stayed at home, for all the chance they had of winning. If sport were always looked at thus there would soon be very little of any kind to look at all, and what was left would scarcely be deserving of the name of sport. Of the twenty-eight, Glenrex and Portlight II. had filled places in previous contests, Glenrex having run second last year, and, being also mentioned in the Grand National betting, started favourite. Glenrex came down in the plough a mile or more from the finish, the running having been made from about half-way by Count Rufus, by Wise Count out of an Arraby dam. The same plough which proved fatal to Glenrex seemed likely to also settle the chance of Count Rufus, for he was passed by Portlight II., but on the good going on the racecourse Count Rufus quickly asserted himself and won very easily in the end. In finishing second Portlight II. is possibly merely following the lead of Miss Clifton II., to eventually win outright. Count Rufus had cost £300, and had won some point-to-point races, which made his starting price of 25 to 1 so surprising.

Comfort, who won the National Hunt Steeplechase in 1903, the year the race was last run at Warwick previous to Cheltenham getting it for two years, did something towards bettering the none too good reputation of winners, who seldom do much afterwards, by winning the Warwick Handicap Steeplechase, after a good tussle with Royal Drake, who broke down rather badly, although finishing second. On another occasion something should be done toprevent the landing side of the water from becoming a quagmire. More than one horse failed to keep its footing in consequence of this, the fault being, apparently, an overflow from the water.

John M.P. made another taking appearance at Hurst Park on the Saturday in this week in the Open Steeplechase, which proved in practice to be the gift it seemed on paper. The odds on were of course practically prohibitive.

HUNTING.

It is by no means certain that foxhunting has any more enemies now than in earlier times. The great danger seems to be from the lukewarmness or injudicious action of its friends. Probably Mr. Charles Brook, of the Holderness, pointed to the real danger when he complained of the want of knowledge of hunting in those who follow the sport. For this there is a real reason, in that hunting people nowadays have so many other occupations and amusements. Hunting is only one of them. People hunt in greater numbers, but they do not see so much of the sport itself as we did in the days when we lived more in the country, hunted from home, and took the good and the bad days as they came. In very popular hunts there are fewer good days, for the simple reason that unless hounds can go fast enough to keep out of the way of the field, it is not easy to see a hunt when there is a crowd.

Second horses, though, a great addition to one’s pleasure, have this disadvantage, that if we have to make one horse go through the day we shall be more likely to succeed if we know what hounds are doing, so as to gain all we can by the turns in our favour. Thus it is obvious that a knowledge of hunting keeps us out of mischief and enables us to do less damage. But every now and then we read attacks on hunting which are obviously based on sentimental ignorance.

The latest subject is the treatment of hounds by the hunt servants. Now I have had, and have still, a great many friends among a class of men who are notable for their good qualities, their ability, and their integrity. Of course, young men are sometimes a little too rough with hounds, but the most successful huntsmen, and whippers-in, too, are those who have the gift of attaching hounds to them. I think we may take it as an established fact that hounds never do their best for a man who cannot win their affections. It is too funny to read of hounds escaping from kennel and dying miserably in a ditch because they were afraid to return. 1 wonder if people have any idea of the value of a well-bred foxhound. Perhaps they think because they are numerous, therefore they are cheap, and, like Beckford’s auctioneer, think a pack would be dear at a shilling a head. Some kind friend has been sending me curiosities of literature in the way of hunting correspondence; two I think are worthy of being remembered. One of the writers, wishing to say that at a particular juncture of a hunt the field refreshed themselves, wrote that a considerable number took St. Paul’s advice to Timothy, evidently not holding with the temperance lecturer who accounted for this by saying he supposed it was meant for outward application only. The other reported that a well-known pack ran a stag toearth.

When sport has been so good and the weather so bad, if we say that a particular pack has had sport, we do not mean to suggest that others have not, but only that it has come under our notice. Yet, when the weather is such that frosts make hunting uncertain, I do think the Belvoir have a little the best of it, so few are the days in the season when they cannot hunt in some part or other of their wide territory.

On a cold morning they met at Landyke Lane, on Friday, February 23rd. Scent was at first only moderate, but as the hours went on matters improved, and the day ended with a brilliant Belvoir burst from Hose Thorns. Hounds seemed to be catching their fox all the way to Clawson Thorns, the pace and drive growing greater as the field bustled along on the track of the flying hounds. It was almost twenty minutes from the start to the time when the fox escaped, owing to the number of fresh lines in the covert. Mrs. Clayton Swan’s horse slipped on the greasy turf and she had a nasty fall. Ash Wednesday is no longer a hunting day with the Belvoir, but in any case the ground was impossible for riding in the Midlands. Thursday was possible enough, but a most unpleasant day, and the pack I hunted with did little, and I confess to coming home early, fairly driven off by weather. In the Belvoir country things improved as the day wore on. The smallest field of the season, and a riding one, found themselves with a stout fox and a racing pack in front of them. It is a hilly country, and the fences held the field in check so that hounds could run without interference. The fox went straight into Freeby Wood. Ben Capell, taking a leaf out of the late Sir Charles Slingsby’s book, held the pack right round the wood. Then an advantage was gained and the pace became hotter than ever as the end drew near.

Not so fast, but even better as a hunt, was the run of Wednesday, March 7th! The Belvoir met at Sproxton, and went on to draw Lord Dysart’s coverts at Buckminster. These proved to be blank, but—Coston covert is only just outside—a fine clean fox, springing up, was driven across to Buckminster. With their fox running up wind, hounds drove right on to Gunby Gorse, which, it is needless to say, is in the Cottesmore.

When they came away it was clear that they had changed, for whereas the original fox had a full brush, the new quarry was a bobtailed one, but in time this one was changed for a well-known out-lier that has hitherto defied Thatcher, and which, by accident or design, choosing a line over some plough, defeated Capell also.

A curious day was March 3rd, when the Cottesmore met at Somerby Hall. The events threw some light on the habits of foxes in a much-hunted country. The hounds spoke in the first covert, but it was clear the fox had taken the hint and left some time before. A second fox from another covert slipped away unseen as hounds were thrown in, and his line, too, failed; lastly, a third fox was discovered in the tree in Stapleford Park; which has become quite a sure find. This causes one’s interest in the curious limitations of a fox’s mind. The two mentioned first were perhaps scared by the clatter of horses’ hoofs, and, it may be, the hoots of a motor-car, which must, one would suppose, in the Shires be quite a familiar sign of a coming meet. At all events, they were sharp enough to take a hint and make themselves scarce, but the tree-haunting fox or foxes of Stapleford have not yet found out that their enemies know of their hiding-place, and come straight for it.

What some people say was the fastest gallop of the season took place with the Quorn on March 5th, from Grimstone Gorse to Sleaford. The pace, the country covered, and the going were all good, yet there were, in fact, only four or five men really in it. The rest of the large field were practically out of it. It seems as if John Isaac, who is to have a well-deserved testimonial, was having good fortune in his last season. The Pytchley Wednesdays since Christmas have been unusually good, although, when one casts one’s mind back on them, it does not seem that any day rises above the level of good sport. Two points, however, we notice, that the bitch pack was worked well, and that, in conjunction with their huntsman, they made the best of whatever scent there is. So, Wednesday after Wednesday, the Pytchley followers have had a glorious day of sport to look back to, in the cream of their country. Another huntsman who retires at the end of the season, George Shepherd, has shown very good sport lately, his best run probably being from Sleaford, on Thursday, March 8th. Lord Charles Bentinck has been out to study the country, the run of the foxes, and to make acquaintance with the members of the Blankney Hunt. To return to Sleaford, the fox was lying out, but, once afoot, returned to Sleaford Wood. For an hour and a half, always at a fair pace, this gallant fox held on, and, with hounds close to his brush, found an impregnable refuge at last. Fortunately the line was not straight; had it been so, few indeed would have seen it.

Imagine Lincolnshire riding deep in this part of the country, where hairy fences and such ditches as they know how to dig hereabouts, abound. As it was, with the aid of a little luck and a great deal of perseverance, a fair number reached the end. It was a very enjoyable sort of hunt, an interesting bit of hound-work, and the huntsman intervened just at the critical moment with a most timely and well-judged cast.

If we are to search for a characteristic of this season it might almost be found in the readiness of foxes to take to the water. I should be afraid to say how many times foxes have swum across flooded rivers during the late hunting season. The River Nene, in the Northamptonshire country of the Fitzwilliam, has been crossed several times. The last fox that braved its swollen waters was one of three found at Lilford on March 10th. After running the fox right round the park, scent on the grass proved too good, and he boldly swam the River Nene at Wadenhoe. The object of this manœuvre was successful, since, as once before, he gained so much that eventually he ran his pursuers out of the scent. The Fitzwilliam country is just now the best hunted country in England. It is probably the only country in England that could or would supply foxes and sport to four packs of hounds. First, there is the historic Milton pack, then Mr. Fernies’ is given some woodland days; Lord Exeter, with the help of occasional days in the Belvoir country, finds work for his pack there; and for a fortnight Lord Fitzwilliam took his hounds (bitch pack) to Milton, and hunted on alternate days with his cousin’s pack.

Lord Fitzwilliam’s have also had a good month, in spite of rough weather.

On March 1st they manifested their remarkable power of holding to their hunted fox in a strong woodland country. The fixture was at Blatherwycke, Mr. Stafford O’Brien’s place on the borders of the Woodland Pytchley and the Fitzwilliam countries. Finding in Hostage Wood, they hunted partly over the open, and a rough country it is hereabouts, and partly in the big coverts. There has been no such woodland hunting as this anywhere, hounds stuck resolutely to their fox with a most inspiring chorus—the Fitzwilliam are famous for their music—for an hour and a quarter, and rolled the fox over at last. Nor was this all. A second fox was roused. He slipped away some distance ahead of hounds, but they drove along to such purpose for twenty minutes, making the best of the scent, that by the time the fox had reached the wide woodlands known as the Bedford Purlieus they were close to his brush. A half-beaten fox in a most carefully preserved wood—these coverts belong to Lord Fitzwilliam—has several chances in his favour, and at least one other fox was afoot, but once more hounds held to the hunted one and proved themselves, as indeed they have done all this season, a most killing pack.

On Ash Wednesday the Old Berkeley West had rather a remarkable day’s hunting. They met at Hartwell. The bag for the day was one fox killed from Kimblewick after an hour’s good hunting; one badger hunted to ground in the open, and another one killed.

I think, however, that the run of the Warwickshire on February 22nd, from Shuckburgh, will remain as the best gallop of the month, and perhaps, all things considered, the greatest foxhunt of the season. The run was divided in three portions. The first an eager scurry of three miles or so over grass pastures and flying fences. Then came a period of hunting with a check of some length. Horses had to gallop for part of the time, but it was possible to choose one’s places in the fences. Lastly, there was a very stiff bit of country, with hounds running into their fox all the way.

We expect to hear of hunt changes in April, and there are plenty in prospect, but it shows the vitality of foxhunting that the countries which are vacant fill up so readily. On the courteous principle of ladies first, we may note that Mrs. Burrell has arranged to hunt the part of Northumberland held by the late Sir J. Miller two days a week at her own expense. This has been heartily accepted by the hunting folk of that section of the old N.B.H. country. The Cambridgeshire, an old county pack with a long record of sport, have a new master in Mr. Crossman. Colonel Sprot takes Captain Gilmour’s place with the Fife. He has promised so far as the circumstances of the country permit, to hunt three days a week. That charming bit of Irish-like hunting ground in the far west, known as the Four Burrow, though it makes no change—Mr. J. Williams has been Master for twenty-eight years—is to increase its hunting days from two to three a week. This is the direct consequence of the way foxes are preserved, and is worth noting, because in Cornwall the trapping which has formed so formidable a difficulty in some west country hunts has not here done any material damage.

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