Part 2

* * * * *

* * * * *

]

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

IN THE MIDLANDS

_Belated Hunting Man_ (_to Native_). "Can you kindly point out the way to the Fox and Cock Inn?"

_Native._ "D'ye mean the Barber's Arms?"

_B. H. M._ "No, the Fox and Cock!"

_Native._ "Well, that's what we call the Barber's Arms."

_B. H. M._ "Why so?"

_Native_ (_with a hoarse laugh_). "Well, ain't the Fox and Cock the same as the Brush and Comb?"

[_Vanishes into the gloaming, leaving the B. H. M. muttering those words which are not associated with benediction, while he wearily passes on his way._

* * * * *

APPROPRIATE TO THE WINTER SEASON

For sportsmen, the old song long ago popular, entitled "_There's a Good Time Coming, Boys_," if sung by a M.F.H. with a bad cold, as thus: "_There's a Good Tibe Cubbing, Boys!_"

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * *

* * * * *

AT THE HUNT BALL

(_The Sad Complaint of a Man in Black_)

O MOLLY, dear, my head, I fear, is going round and round, Your cousin isn't in the hunt, when hunting men abound; A waltz for me no more you'll keep, the girls appear to think There's a law been made in favour of the wearing of the pink. Sure I met you in the passage, and I took you by the hand, And says I, "How many dances, Molly, darlint, will ye stand?" But your card was full, you said it with a most owdacious wink, And I'm "hanging" all your partners for the wearing of the pink! You'd a waltz for Charlie Thruster, but you'd divil a one for me, Though he dances like a steam-engine, as all the world may see; 'Tis an illigant divarsion to observe the crowd divide, As he plunges down the ball-room, taking couples in his stride. 'Tis a cropper you'll be coming, but you know your business best, Still, it's bad to see you romping round with Charlie and the rest; Now you're dancing with Lord Arthur--sure, he's had enough to dhrink-- And I'm "hanging" all your partners for the wearing of the pink! Your cruelty ashamed you'll be someday to call to mind, You'll be glad to ask my pardon, then, for being so unkind, The hunting men are first, to-night--well, let them have their whack-- You'll be glad to dance with me, someday--when all the coats are black! But, since pink's the only colour now that fills your pretty head, Bedad, I'll have some supper, and then vanish home to bed. 'Tis the most distressful ball-room I was ever in, I think, And I'm "hanging" all your partners for the wearing of the pink!

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

WHY HE WAITED

"What's the matter with Jack's new horse? He won't start."

"Don't know; but they say he's been in an omnibus. Perhaps he's waiting for the bell!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

SO CONSOLING

_Lady_ (_whose mare has just kicked a member of the Hunt, who was following too closely_). "Oh, I'm so sorry! I do hope it didn't hurt you! She's such a gentle thing, and could only have done it in the merest play, you know."

* * * * *

* * * * *

IRISH HUNTING TIPPLE

_Englishman_ (_having partaken of his friend's flask, feels as if he had swallowed melted lead_). "Terribly strong! Pure whiskey, is it not?"

_Irishman._ "Faith! not at all! It's greatly diluted with gin!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

HUNTING SONG

(_To be sung when the Hounds meet at Colney Hatch or Hanwell_)

Tantivy! Anchovy! Tantara! The moon is up, the moon is up, The larks begin to fly, And like a scarlet buttercup Aurora gilds the sky. Then let us all a-hunting go, Come, sound the gay French horn, And chase the spiders to and fro, Amid the standing corn. Tantivy! Anchovy! Tantara!

* * * * *

UNCOMMONLY KEEN

"Why, where's the horse, Miss Kitty? By Jove, you're wet through! What has happened?"

"Oh, the stupid utterly refused to take that brook, so I left him and swam it. I couldn't miss the end of this beautiful thing!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

"BUSINESS FIRST"

_Favourite Son of M.F.H._ (_to old huntsman_). "No, Smith, you won't see much more of me for the rest of the season; if at all."

_Smith_ (_with some concern_). "Indeed, sir! 'Ow's that?"

_Son of M.F.H._ "Well, you see, I'm reading hard."

_Smith_ (_interrogatively_). "Readin' 'ard, sir?"

_Son of M.F.H._ "Yes, I'm reading Law."

_Smith._ "Well, I likes to read a bit o' them perlice reports myself, sir, now an' then; but I don't allow 'em to hinterfere with a honest day's 'untin'."

* * * * *

AN OMISSION BEST OMITTED

_Brown_ (_on foot_). "Do you know what the total is for the season?"

_Simkins_ (_somewhat new to country life_). "Fifteen pairs of foxes, the huntsman says. But he seems to have kept no count of rabbits or 'ares, and I know they've killed and eaten a lot of those!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

HUNTING EXTRAORDINARY

Jobson, who edits a cheerful little weekly, said to me the other day:

"You hunt, don't you?"

I looked at him knowingly. Jobson interpreted my smile according to his preconceived idea.

"I thought so," he continued.

"Well, you might do me a bright little article--about half a column, you know--on hunting, will you?"

Why should I hesitate? Jobson is safe for cash; and he had not asked me to give my own experiences of the hunting field. I replied warily, "I fancy I know the sort of thing you want."

"Good," he said, and before we could arrive at any detailed explanation he had banged the door and dashed downstairs, jumped into his hansom and was off.

This was the article:-

THOUGHTS ON HUNTING.

It is hardly possible to overrate the value of hunting as a National sport. Steeplechasing is a Grand-National sport, but it is the sport of the rich, whereas hunting is not. By judiciously dodging the Hunt Secretary, you can, in fact, hunt for nothing. Of course, people will come at me open-mouthed for this assertion, and say, "How about the keep of your horses?" To which I reply, "If you keep a carriage, hunt the carriage horse; if you don't, borrow a friend's horse for a long ride in the country, and accidentally meet the hounds." To proceed. This has been a season of poor scent. Of course, the horses of the present day have deteriorated as line hunters: they possess not the keen sense of smell which their grandsires had. But despite this the sport goes gaily on. There are plenty of foxes--but we cannot agree with the popular idea of feeding them on poultry. And yet, in every hunt, we see hunters subscribing to poultry funds. This is not as it should be: Spott's meat biscuit would be much better for foxes' food.

But these be details: let us hie forrard and listen to the cheery voice of sly Reynard as he is winded from his earth. The huntsman blows his horn, and soon the welkin rings with a chorus of brass instruments; the tufters dash into covert, and anon the cheerful note of _Ponto_ or _Gripper_ gives warning that a warrantable fox is on foot--well, of course, he couldn't be on horseback, but this is merely a venatorial _façon de parler_. Away go the huntsmen, showing marvellous dexterity in cracking their whips and blowing their horns at the same moment. Last of all come the hounds, trailing after their masters--ah, good dogs, you cannot hope to keep up very far with the swifter-footed horses! Nevertheless, they strain at their leashes and struggle for a better place at the horses' heels. "Hike forrard! tally ho! whoo-hoop!" They swoop over the fields like a charge of cavalry. But after several hours' hard running a check is at hand: the fox falters, then struggles on again, its tail waving over its head. As its pursuers approach, it rushes up a tree to sit on the topmost branch and crack nuts.

The panting horses arrive--some with their riders still in the saddle, though many, alas! have fallen by the wayside. Next come the hounds, at a long interval--poor _Fido_, poor _Vic_, poor _Snap_! you have done your best to keep up, but the horses have out-distanced you! The whipper-in immediately climbs the tree in which the little red-brown animal still peacefully cracks its nuts, its pretty tail curled well over its head. Its would-be captor carries a revolving wire cage, and, by sleight-of-hand movement, manages to get the quarry securely into it. Then he descends, places the cage in a cart and it is driven home.

The "mort" is sounded by four green velvet-coated huntsmen, with horns wound round their bodies; a beautiful brush presented to the lady who was first up at the "take"; and then the field slowly disperse. Tally Ho-Yoicks! all is over for the day.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE LAST DAY OF HUNTING

(_Stanzas for the First of April_)

Right day to bid a long farewell To the field's gladsome glee; To hang the crop upon its peg, The saddle on its tree. All Fools' the day, all Fools' the deed, That hunting's end doth bring-- With all those stinking violets, And humbug of the Spring!

Good-bye to pig-skin and to pink, Good-bye to hound and horse! The whimpering music sudden heard From cover-copse and gorse; The feathering stems, the sweeping ears, The heads to scent laid low, The find, the burst, the "Gone-away!" The rattling "Tally-ho!"

My horses may eat off their heads, My huntsman eat his heart; My hounds may dream of kills and runs In which they've borne their part, Until the season's bore is done, And Parliament set free, And cub-hunting comes back again To make a man of me!

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE ADVANTAGE OF EDUCATION

_M.F.H._ (_who has had occasion to reprimand hard-riding Stranger_). "I'm afraid I used rather strong language to you just now."

_Stranger._ "Strong language? A mere _twitter_, sir. You should hear _our_ Master!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

"FOOT AND MOUTH" TROUBLE

A valuable hunter, belonging to Mr. Durlacher, got its hind foot securely fixed in its mouth one day last week, and a veterinary surgeon had to be summoned to its assistance. This recalls the ancient Irish legend of the man who never opened his mouth without putting his foot into it. But that, of course, was a bull.

* * * * *

DECIDEDLY NOT

_Nervous Visitor_ (_pulling up at stiff-looking fence_). "Are you going to take this hedge, sir?"

_Sportsman._ "No. It can stop where it is, as far as I'm concerned."

* * * * *

UNGRATEFUL

_The Pride of the Hunt_ (_to Smith, who, for the last ten minutes, has been gallantly struggling with obstinate gate_). "Mr. Smith, if you really _can't_ open that gate, perhaps you will kindly move out of the way, and allow me to _jump_ it!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

REASSURING

_Criticising friend_ (_to nervous man on new horse_). "Oh! now I recollect that mare. Smashem bought her of Crashem last season, and she broke a collar-bone for each of them."

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

'INTS ON 'UNTING, BY 'ARRY

* * * * *

EXCUSABLE

_M.F.H._ (_justly irate, having himself come carefully round edge of seed-field_). "Blank it all, Rogerson, what's the good o' me trying to keep the field off seeds, and a fellow like you coming slap across 'em?"

_Hard-Riding Farmer._ "It's all right. They're my own! Ar've just come ower my neighbour's wheat, and ar couldn't for vary sham(e) miss my own seeads!"

* * * * *

ANXIOUS TO SELL

_Dealer_ (_to Hunting Man, whose mount has NOT answered expectations_). "How much do you want for that nag o' yours, sir?"

_Hunting Man._ "Well, I'll take a hundred guineas."

_Dealer._ "Make it _shillings_."

_H. M._ (_delighted_). "He's yours!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

CASUAL

_Owner of let-out hunters_ (_to customer just returned from day's sport_). "Are you aware, sir, that ain't my 'orse?"

_Sportsman._ "Not yours! Then, by Jove, I _did_ collar the wrong gee during that scrimmage at the brook!"

* * * * *

AT OUR OPENING MEET

_Stranger from over the water._ "I guess you've a mighty smart bunch of dogs there, m'lord!"

_Noble but crusty M.F.H._ "Then you guess wrong, sir. _This is a pack of hounds!_"

* * * * *

MUST BE HUNGRY

"Wish you'd feed your horse before he comes out."

"Eh--why--hang it!--what do you mean?"

"He's always trying to eat my boots. He evidently thinks there's some chance of getting at a little corn!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

DISINTERESTED KINDNESS

_Sportsman_ (_just come to grief, to Kindhearted Stranger who has captured horse_). "I say, I'm awfully obliged to you! I can get on all right, so please don't wait!"

_Kindhearted Stranger._ "Oh, I'd rather, thanks! I want you to flatten the next fence for me!"

* * * * *

ENCOURAGING

_Nervous Man_ (_who hires his hunters_). "Know anything about this mare? Ringbone tells me she's as clever as a man!"

_Friend._ "Clever as a man? Clever as a woman more like it! Seen her play some fine old games with two or three fellows, I can tell you!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

SOMETHING LIKE A CHARACTER