Part 11

As season follows season the Manchester meetings attract a diminishing amount of attention. It is a question of reaping what you have sown. Large sums of money were spent upon an unsuitable site, much of the money in the erection of buildings more adapted to municipal purposes than to racing. Except that the big turn is one of the finest in England, the course has proved unsatisfactory, in consequence of the rapidity with which the going goes wrong under wet. In this respect the course is not much better than the old one, which it will quite resemble when it has undergone a course of protection from frost by means of hay for the same number of years. “Disappeared in the main drain, I assure you,” explained the late Duchess of Montrose on the occasion of one of her horses coming to grief in the evil going of the old course. People of the Turf standing of the late Duchess do not find themselves at the new course. The better classes of Manchester firmly decline to be attracted by the races, despite the club stand, the contrast with Liverpool being remarkable. The weather rarely fails to make the November meeting a ghastly affair. In going back to Castle Irwell the management deliberately went to the home of fog, and, in consequence, most of the racing, as a spectacle, is a farce. We are all aware that the period at which the November meeting is decided is too late for good weather, but any attempt to move the fixture forward, supposing such a desire existed, of which I have no knowledge, would scarcely meet with success. If the Stewards of the Jockey Club regard the meeting as an unimportant one they can claim to take this impression from evidence supplied by the meeting itself, the average value of stakes not entitling it to any standing. Eight of the twenty races provide the minimum £100 allowed to the winner, for instance. There must be some significance in the reduction of the Whitsuntide meeting, at which all the money is made, from four days to three. This year’s November meeting was treated to continuous wet, the going of each succeeding day being worse than that preceding it. The November Handicap was run on the last day, and the field of nineteen included some good handicap horses. As at Derby, form was knocked into a cocked hat, the 25 to 1 Ferment gaining a decisive victory. It is a pity that the racing season is each year brought to a close in this uncomfortable manner, and if one cannot quite go with those who recognise no racing previous to that taking place at the Newmarket Craven meeting one can at least see some plausibility in ending it with the Houghton. If mudlarking is to be done, one may as well do it personally, to the tune of hound music.

Although racing ends for the year at Manchester, the curtain cannot be said to fall until the Gimcrack Club dinner has been held. The function to which custom has given such wholehearted recognition sits well on the shoulders of the York Race Committee, which, as the Chairman at the recent dinner very properly pointed out, gives back to the Turf everything that is earned by the races. There are not many race-meetings of which this can be said; and what a contrast to money-grabbing Doncaster! Of course it is not wholly and solely custom that assigns to the Gimcrack dinner the importance which attaches to it. We have a trenchant way nowadays of kicking overboard any custom, however hoary, which has outlived its utility. For the Gimcrack dinner there is much need, for it is the only occasion of the year upon which Turf topics may be publicly ventilated. As to the kind of topics touched upon and their treatment, those depend upon the particular person who may be called upon to ventilate. When we consider that the guest of the evening, to whom free rein is given if he wants it, is the owner of the winner of the Gimcrack Stakes, we realise how very uncertain must be the question of oratory. It is possible to conceive an owner of a Gimcrack winner taking but little stock in the higher interests of the Turf. Mr. Hall Walker, whose filly, Colonia, won him the Gimcrack Stakes of 1905, is, however, not a man of this sort. How it came about I do not know, but some people expected Mr. Hall Walker to say “straight things” to the Jockey Club; but nothing could have been more exemplary than his references to that body. He was full of anxiety for the welfare of the Turf as connected with the welfare of the horse, and his enthusiasm led him to propound schemes some of us, I fear, will be inclined to regard as Utopian. Taking as his text the statement that, “In all the leading Continental States the production and development of the horse is made a subject of governmental care and solicitude,” Mr. Hall Walker proposed that the British Government should grant, if not funds, at least power to the Jockey Club, who was to embody amongst its functions that of a society for the encouragement of horse-breeding. In order to accomplish the desired ends, the Jockey Club was to have the power to establish race-meetings over all or any common land free from interference by local councils and the freedom to acquire by purchase any existing race-meeting. I do not pause to consider the plausibility of such a project or the probability of the Jockey Club embarking upon it, for I have used the word Utopian; Mr. Hall Walker next referred to the means by which any shortage in funds was to be made good. They were to be provided by the introduction of the _pari-mutuel_. He added—“The advantages of the _pari-mutuel_ are clear and decided. In the first place, it would provide large sums of money for the end we have in view, and it would practically bring about the abolition of street betting.” The writer’s views on the subject differ from those advanced by Mr. Hall Walker, but space does not permit of a discussion of the question raised.

Lord Downe in a speech, the tone of which charmed every one, maintained that the only solution to the betting difficulty was to license

## bookmakers and making betting debts recoverable. Of course his lordship

does not propose that the Jockey Club should take the initiative, remembering, as he does, that when the anti-gamblers were last at work, betting at Newmarket was disavowed. The Club could not well ask to have that legalised which they claim does not exist. That the licensing of

## bookmakers is a desirable thing all sensible men will gladly admit.

Racing would be all the better for it, but unless the trend of thought takes an entirely new channel, I cannot see any form of Government legalising gambling in the shape of wagering on horse-races.

Viscount Helmsley, who added to the nice things said by Lord Downe about the Press, who came in for a rough handling at last year’s dinner, suggested the institution of races for ponies up to 14.2, for the encouragement of the breed. Racehorses in the past have not always been the 16 hands animals that are now so common. Two hundred years ago Mixbury, by Curwen’s Bay Barb, standing only 13.2, was the most famous galloway of his day. Pony and galloway racing is no new thing in the present generation, but it has not taken kindly to the sport. An experiment was made at Plumpton on Whit Monday, 1903, which resulted in complete failure, and it is not quite clear what racing under Jockey Club rules could do. A race here and there would not effect much, and it is an open question whether enough thoroughbreds of 14.2 and under exist to fill many races. There are at least a few clerks of the course who are enterprising enough to welcome any novelty, and if fields could be assured a first step would be taken. Without such assurance he would be a bold man to take the step of opening such a race. It might be worth the while of those interested in pony breeding to provide the stake in the first instance, and see how the suggestion took with others. Experience in India teaches us that good sport is to be had out of ponies.

STAGHOUNDS.

Hind-hunting is at its best in November and December. The hinds are difficult to kill; they are then stronger than stags. It is for this reason that I record what must be considered to be a notable performance of the Devon and Somerset from the Heathpoult on December 3rd. The fixture was for 10 a.m. You want all the daylight there is to kill a stout hind. There was a thick fog and they had to wait some time before it was possible to hunt. At last Mr. Morland Greig gave the word, and kennelling the pack, tufters were taken to Slowley. The run began almost at once, and the chase was nearly all over an enclosed country. The pace was often good, and the hunt lasted for two hours. But the feature of it was that we never got the pack, and that the whole was carried on by the huntsman with four or five couples of hounds. The hind escaped, but not till nearly four o’clock. A week later, in thick fog and driving rain, Mr. E. A. V. Stanley and the Quantock hounds drove a hind straight and fast from the same covert, and killed her near the pier-head at Minehead. Taking the weather into consideration this was a noteworthy gallop.

Two memorable runs have taken place with foxhounds during the past month. The week from December 5th to December 10th was perhaps the best of the season, and there was sport in every country. The Quorn was stopped by fog and hindered by absence of scent on the two days in the week—Monday, Friday—they were in the best country, but as we shall see, made up for it on Saturday. It is not the least remarkable feature of these waves of sport that they affect, about the same time, countries of different soils, climate, and contour, often widely separated by distance.

What I think may be called the two historic hunts of the month took place in Rutlandshire with the Cottesmore, and in Somersetshire with the West Somerset, on December 5th and 7th, while on the latter date the Pytchley had a good run, and on the Friday several packs, including the North Cotswold, enjoyed sport better than ordinary.

The Cottesmore met at Tilton on the first Tuesday in December. There were some preliminary chases which came to nothing, but served to show that there was a scent. The fox of the day was holloa’d away on the side of Skeffington Wood nearest the road. The hounds, when they hit the line, swung left-handed over the grass fields between the covert and the road. At Brown’s Wood, Thatcher, no doubt fearing a change, held the pack round outside. He was right, his fox had gone on across the road, but there was another line, and part of the pack were away. However, the huntsman and his division worked out the line over the road and into the fields beyond, the hounds clearly gaining confidence as they went. The whipper-in, having stopped the main body smartly, arrived in the nick of time with the rest of the pack. The hounds now settled to work, and improving the pace as they went, ran to Rolleston and on to Noseley, held on still to Glooston. At this, point the fox began to turn, and the Ram’s Head covert was reached and left behind. Thence they dipped down to the East Norton road, which the fox ran for some distance, and then turned left-handed as though for Launde Park Wood. By this time many good horses were stopping, for the pace and the severity of the country, which is all up and down—some of the hills are very steep—told on them. In the early part of the run the followers had been favoured by convenient gates, but now the pace improved, and it was not easy to skirt and keep one’s place, yet the fences, though fairly practicable, took much of the remaining steel out of the horses. When hounds turned up to Prior’s Coppice they began to run for blood. Bending towards Owston Wood the field thinned down, and horses began to stop everywhere. In the meantime hounds ran from scent to view, and rolled their fox over in the open close to Cheseldyne Copse. The run lasted one hour and forty minutes, covered fourteen miles as hounds ran, but as the course was a wide curve the point is of course not a long one. The run is remarkable for the wise tactics of the huntsman at the beginning, for extraordinary excellence of the country crossed, as well as for the steadiness of hounds in a well-foxed country, and the condition they showed in hunting for so long a time, and fairly running into their fox at last. That the pace was fast is shown by the number of horses in the best-mounted field in England that stopped by the way.

Into close connection with this run we may bring the other great hunt of the month. Although the country was very different the chase was not dissimilar. Indeed, before we can admit a run to the list of great chases it must fulfil certain conditions, of which the principal is that it must be fast and continuous. If hounds are merely hunting more or less for two or three hours at a slow pace, we often have an interesting day’s sport, but we have not had a great run. I should like to add that it must be after a single fox, but that would exclude so many famous hunts, but if the fox that started is the fox killed, then, no doubt, the triumph is all the greater. The West Somerset run was after one fox, the time was an hour and thirty-five minutes, the pace was good, the distance covered as hounds ran was fifteen miles, and the point rather over seven.

The fox was found on Sir Walter Trevelyan’s property and on the shooting in the occupation of Mr. Townsend Marryat, of Treborough Lodge, who had been keeping the Roadwater coverts quiet for the Hunt.

The fixture was the “Valiant Soldier,” Roadwater—a well-known anglers’ house—on Wednesday, December 7th. The fox was afoot in ten minutes after the start, and it was about twenty minutes more before he was fairly away. Once he was headed, but he resolutely swung round to make his point. Then the pace was very fast, and indeed there was need to gallop to keep on terms with the pack in this rather difficult country. The fox’s point was up wind for a certain well-known covert, but this he failed to reach, turning away within sight. Judging from the pace hounds had brought him along he had no choice but to turn or die. This move saved him for the time, for he gained ground and reached Sir John Ferguson Davie’s covert at Bittescombe Manor, within the borders of the Tiverton Hunt. Finding, however, no refuge there the fox turned back and made for Clatworthy Wood. Hounds were now gaining. He was too hot to stay in the covert and he broke again. The pack turned him in a big field, and catching a view rolled him over. The fox was easily identified as the one that started, as he was curiously marked.

As a run it was a hound chase, for the pack were not touched from find to finish. They cast themselves when necessary and twice picked up the line on the roads. They killed him unaided, as although the Master saw the kill he could not get to them, nor could the huntsman. Every hound was up—a great performance in a rough country. The mask was given to Miss Luttrell and will find a place at Dunster Castle, rightly enough, since the hounds are lent to the country by Mr. G. F. Luttrell.

While on the subject of historic runs news reaches me of a run with Sir John Amory’s staghounds which is in every respect a record, at all events, since the days of the Rev. Jack Russell. The distance, the pace and the line of country taken by the deer were all alike remarkable and interesting. This wonderful stag-hunt took place on Saturday, December 9th. The fixture was Chawleigh, in the Eggesford country, so long known to foxhunters as Lord Portsmouth’s. Seven deer were roused; a young stag was chosen. The hounds were laid on and the stag began by making a wide ring. He then ran by rather devious ways to the River Taw, which stag and hounds crossed. Those who have seen this river in flood will know that the ordinary fords are then impassable. Some miles had to be covered to reach a bridge and return towards the place where hounds were last seen. Luckily the stag and hounds had not vanished into space. The stag probably meant to return to the moors, but on reaching the railway he was blanched by a passing train, and this gave the field time to come up. The quarry was now driven clean out of his country, and he ran straight forward, heading for Torrington, near to which place they took him at 4.15, having been running for four hours and a half. The hounds were left at Eggesford, and the Master, Mr. Ian Amory, his brother, and Mr. de Las Casas made their way back to Tiverton which they reached about midnight.

In illustration of the fact that hounds can run in distant countries on the same day, the Quorn and Cottesmore both had a scent on the 9th, though the latter were hindered by fog. The Quorn were in that section of their country in which Bunny Park is a favourite covert. This part of the country has some plough, but grass and arable alike often carry a good scent, and on Saturday, 9th, hounds ran brilliantly over both alike. Scent held all day, but the fox was saved in the first run by a timely rabbit-hole, in the second by the darkening twilight of a short winter day. The Cottesmore, again, had a run on Tuesday, 12th, which would have been noteworthy had it been possible to see it, but fog caused many of the best followers to miss the fun. I think a great run should, especially in the grass countries, have its glory and pleasure divided between the hounds and the horses. In that most delightful country, Lord Bathurst’s division of the V.W.H., a very noteworthy gallop came off on November 24th. The point was the best I have to record this month, being nine miles in a straight line, with a deviation making up three more perhaps. Thus it will be observed that the run was unusually straight. This country is somewhat heavy going in wet weather, when it holds the best scent. Somerford Common supplied the fox. The pack started at once and settled to run. There was thenceforth small opportunity to make up a bad start. There was a short hesitation at Flisbridge, then they went on through Oaksey Wood, crossed into the Duke of Beaufort’s country, and arrived at Redmorton, where few saw the end. The fox saved his life here, as the covert was full of foxes.

The North Cotswold bitches are giving their master a brilliant season to finish with. Nor can we imagine a greater pleasure to any one than to see a pack one has built up one’s self gaining triumph after triumph. I cannot help thinking that the fact that this pack kill their foxes is one reason for their success.

Hounds that are successful become so full of confidence in their huntsman and in themselves, that they make light of difficulties that would daunt others. It looks as if Belvoir blood needed a quick huntsman to bring out its best qualities, for I have heard people say that they were not so fond of the strains in provincial countries. But facts are stubborn things, and the Duke’s kennel seems to be the true foundation on which to build a fast and killing pack.

Of the other packs hunting in fashionable countries, Mr. Fernie’s, the Atherstone and the Pytchley have all enjoyed good sport during December without, so far, any run above their usual level, which, be it remembered, is very high. It takes a very excellent gallop indeed to be considered out of the usual run of these countries.

Sometimes I think it possible that farmers may wonder whether the deeds of hunting people are in proportion to their professions of gratitude. At all events, the Warwickshire Hunt are doing their best to manifest the reality of their regard. They have voluntarily taxed themselves 10s. or £1 a-piece, according to their means, one-half of the fund so collected going to the “Royal Agricultural Benevolent Society,” and the other half to the relief of farmers in distress within the limits of the Warwickshire Hunt country. This scheme will, it may be hoped, find imitators in other countries. This and the Hunt Servants’ Benevolent Fund are the charities which no hunting people ought to neglect.

Rumours die hard, and the report that Mr. Hubert Wilson is going to resign the Cheshire is still going about. The fact is that he is willing to go on, and the country most anxious to keep him. The sport he has shown and his popularity, together with that of his huntsman Champion, should promise and secure a long reign. Frequent changes of mastership are a disadvantage not only to the individual country, but to hunting at large. So far there are but two countries likely to be vacant, and I hear that there are many applications for the North Cotswold, the chance of possessing that incomparable pack of bitches being no doubt a great attraction. The other pack is the Ledbury, which it is expected Mr. Carnaby Forster will resign before long, and I fear that the state of his health makes the report more than probable. He will leave a fine pack and a tradition of good sport behind.

HUNTING IN YORKSHIRE—A CAPITAL SUGGESTION.