Distemper in Hounds.
OPINIONS OF MASTERS OF HOUNDS.
With the view of collecting information on the subject of distemper, we addressed enquiries to the masters of a number of those hunts in whose kennels last season the disease took an unusually serious form, and also to masters whose kennels had escaped lightly. The replies received are exceedingly full and informing; and as the views of the writers cannot fail to be of interest, we propose in the following pages to set out a selection of opinions collected.
It will be convenient to give the letters in the alphabetical sequence of the writers’ names.
Mr. E. E. Barclay, master of the Puckeridge, whose kennels sustained very serious losses in 1904–5, writes:—
“Distemper is like ‘scent,’ the more one sees of it the less one knows about it. All I do know is that it is a terribly fatal disease amongst hounds of all sorts, and in my experience almost invariably seems to pick out and kill the strongest and best of one’s entry. I have kept hounds (harriers and foxhounds) now for twenty-eight years, and have always bred a good many young hounds, so necessarily have seen a good deal, in fact, far too much, of distemper, and have now come to the conclusion that physic of any sort has very little to do with getting a hound through an attack. The only thing one can do is to keep them warm; don’t let the temperature of the hospital fall below 60° during the twenty-four hours, with plenty of fresh air but no draughts, and nurse them very carefully, feeding them a little at the time and often. Keep them clean, often sponging their eyes, nose, and lips with disinfectant to keep the offensive discharge, which usually accompanies bad cases, from getting caked.
“In the form that attacks their heads with twitching and blindness, setons in the back of the neck often help. In the more fatal lung cases with pneumonia, applications of mustard to the chest and sides is the only thing that may do good, but this form often turns to double pneumonia and the patients die in a few hours. In some cases distemper seems to turn to blood poisoning, attacking especially the feet, so that the feet almost rot away.
“I have found that those hounds that have frequent fits seldom recover, and if by chance they do pull round they are generally left with ‘snatches’ or chorea. Strychnine will often help ‘snatches’ at first, but if a hound has got them badly he seldom gets much better of them, though he may recover from the distemper itself.
“I only remember two summers when we did not have distemper badly in kennel, but in both these years the young hounds went down with it badly in the middle of December and we lost several, just when they were in hard work; and of course those that recovered were of little use for that hunting season.
“A medical friend was telling me one day of the way they now treat bad cases of pneumonia by putting the patient into an iced bath. This is done, of course, to get the temperature down, for what so often kills in cases of pneumonia is the collapse of the heart owing to high fever. Just at this time I had a very nice young dog-hound, who had been ill with distemper for a long time; it turned to pneumonia and he was ‘blowing’ like a grampus. He had a temperature of 105°,[[4]] and was apparently as good as dead and would have been so in an hour. We carried him into the feeding room and turned the cold water hose on him—down his neck, back and all over him. He very soon began to revive and in a short time stood up with his stern erect, evidently enjoying the treatment; he stopped ‘blowing’ after a short time, and in about fifteen minutes his temperature was 101½°. We carefully dried him without rubbing him more than we could help, and put him back into hospital. He seemed quite comfortable, the ‘blowing’ had entirely ceased and did not return.
“That hound did well for the next ten days, and we quite thought we had saved him when he suddenly died of heart failure. I own this experiment was not a success entirely, but here we had a case of very bad pneumonia in which the patient after a long illness was at the point of death, who through our success in getting his temperature down and completely stopping the ‘blowing,’ lived on and did well for ten days. I firmly believe if his strength had not been undermined by a long spell of illness before we tried the experiment that he would have recovered.
“I have tried all the so-called ‘cures’ for distemper, both old receipts and new, in the form of balls, powders, and liquid, and have come to the conclusion that they have little to do with a hound’s recovery.
“You use someone’s ‘Distemper Balls’ one year when you happen to have a mild run of the disease, and having very few fatal cases that year, you at once think it is this wonderful ball that has cured them!
“Next year you use the same ‘cure’ and your young hounds die like flies. I notice that puppies at walk often get what seems to be distemper and get over it, but when they come in down they go with the kennel distemper and they die.
“We always keep going in the hospital one or more Cresoline lamps, such as are sold at chemists, for burning in rooms of children suffering from whooping cough; this, I am sure, helps the lung and throat cases, and at any rate is a good disinfectant and can do no harm. I am now erecting, detached from the rest of the kennel buildings, a large brick hospital with a range of hot water pipes round three sides of the room, with Tobin ventilators to admit fresh air without creating a draught, and a good-sized lantern skylight in the roof to let out the foul air; and hope this may help us to nurse a larger proportion of distempered hounds through their trouble.
“It is a curious fact, but I have constantly observed that when, as there often are, among the lot ‘down’ with the disease, a young hound or two which, by reason of size or some other cause, are useless, and for that reason get no extra attention and no physic; these pull through without difficulty, whilst the pick of the entry, with every care bestowed upon them, die off wholesale. I am quite sure the distemper one gets in hound-kennels is quite different from that which the ordinary cur dog gets.
“I have tried carefully for two seasons Dr. Physallix’s inoculation serum, under two different veterinary surgeons, both clever men; but all to no purpose, the mortality being quite as high in the inoculated cases as in the whelps that had not been inoculated.”
Mr. Barclay holds that the subject of distemper is one that should receive the special attention of the M.F.H. Association, that it should be taken up in earnest and researches pursued systematically.
Mr. Assheton Biddulph (King’s County) holds that the strictest care and cleanliness in the kennel do much to minimise the consequences of an attack of distemper. In his kennels a very thorough system of cleaning and ventilation, combined with very free use of disinfectants, is enforced. The kennels are washed carefully and often with disinfectants, and are subjected to a weekly purification with chloride of lime, which is spread about under the benches; moreover, they are washed out at intervals daily with some carbolic fluid. “For several years,” says Mr. Biddulph, “I had no distemper in my kennels, from the time I began to follow the system above mentioned; and I feel convinced that it was neglect and the omission to carry out my orders that caused a sore visitation of it some five years ago. Since then I have had years without suffering an attack at all, and when the disease has appeared it has been in the mildest form.”
Mr. Biddulph attributes the immunity from illness enjoyed by his horses to similar precautions.
Mr. A. Scott Browne, who reported last summer that distemper appeared in the worst form known in twenty-five years’ experience, states that the disease took the form of septic pneumonia; hounds attacked often died before they lost condition, sometimes within thirty-six hours of the first symptoms of illness appearing. Most of those that succumbed had been inoculated with the serum tried by Mr. Barclay, “but,” adds Mr. Scott Browne, drily, “I have no reason to suppose, from a previous experiment, that this caused them to contract the disease in a more virulent form.”
Mr. T. Butt Miller (V.W.H., Cricklade) is unable to express any opinion; his experience is representative of the mysterious and fitful character of the disease. In 1904–5 he was very fortunate in escaping lightly. This year he has had it very badly, not only among the puppies at walk, but also among the young hounds that were entered this season.
Captain H. A. Cartwright (Wilton), writes as follows in explanation of the comparative immunity his hounds enjoyed in 1905:—
“I believe my walks on these Wiltshire Downs are very healthy, and being few, we only breed from the very best bitches likely to produce vigorous offspring, and do not breed from inferior bitches on the chance of getting something good or having a draft to sell. We are, however, handicapped by the necessity for confining the bitches in whelp, and with whelps, to the paddock, as it is near a big game preserve; and although I have a couple of bitches at a time on my own farm here, it is dangerous, owing to the prevalence of poison.
“As regards treatment, Sweetman, my huntsman, relies more on nourishment than physic, and allows the sick puppies no water. We lose more by yellows than distemper.”
Mr. A. W. Hall Dare (Wexford), believes that all hounds must have the disease some time in their lives; he has found that a really bad attack always leaves some weakness. Most cures are useful in some cases, according to his experience, but none are infallible.
Mr. Henry Hawkins, whose harriers suffered severely last spring, attributes the numerous deaths among his puppies chiefly to the fact that there was a continuous and cold east wind blowing at the time of the mortality.
Mr. M. L. W. Lloyd-Price, who has kept hounds for sixteen years, and a great many other dogs for over thirty years, having usually reared from twenty to thirty couples of whelps annually, writes as follows:—
“I have taken great pains to try to discover everything I could re distemper. I can give you no fresh idea for prevention of the malady. I have been, I may say, very lucky with regard to it, only getting it on an average bi-annually, and losing on an average only 10 per cent. Of this fact I feel confident, that the disease is not so bad among hounds in Wales as in England; possibly English hounds are higher bred, and that may be to some extent a reason. Also, I believe, hounds in Wales are more roughly brought up at their walks than in England, and allowed more liberty. This may be a reason also, although, as the farmer’s sheep-dogs get it very severely and many succumb, this is doubtful. I have been much troubled by kennel lameness, and a prevention for this would be more valuable to me even than one for distemper.”
Mr. R. W. McKergow (Southdown) writes: “In answer to your letter of yesterday, I cannot give any definite reason as to why we lost so many young hounds at walk in 1904–5. I think we had too many in some of the villages, and when the distemper broke out the whelps infected each other. We found that puppies at walk in more isolated districts stood a much better chance of recovery. I may add that this year we have chosen our ‘walks’ rather more carefully, and I believe we shall have a much better return. We sent out about fifty couple last year, and have, I believe, about thirty-two or thirty-three couple standing up and doing well. I may add that motor-cars were responsible for the death of some three couples last year, and during the last few months we have lost a further couple and a half from the same cause.”
Colonel A. C. Newland (Tivyside) says that although he lost only one hound last season the whole of the young entry suffered from distemper, and badly, too, in several cases. He continues: “I can only attribute our being fortunate enough to lose but one to the fact that every care was taken from the moment distemper showed in a hound to feed it up as much as possible, port wine, eggs, and beef tea being administered if necessary.”
Mr. A. L. Ormrod (Aspull Harriers), in course of an interesting letter, says: “Two or three of the puppies that came in from walk in the spring of 1905, so far as I can tell, have not suffered at all from distemper. The change of food and general conditions of living on first coming into kennel is always a trying period for puppies, and any inherent weakness in their constitution is likely to make itself manifest then. I should be interested to know how the proportion of hounds received back into kennels from puppy walkers compares with the experiences of breeders of other classes of hounds or dogs, such as greyhounds, sporting dogs, or even terriers.”
Mrs. Pryse Rice, who last summer was happy in her ability to report “no losses, nor have there been any for a number of years,” writes: “I regret to say I know of no prevention for distemper. All our hounds have it either at walk or when they come in to kennel. In the last ten years we have sent out to walk 115 couples, and the total losses, as returned in our puppy register, by distemper, have been two hounds in kennel (when we had it in a very bad form), and one of the whelps now out at walk. This year I think we have had distemper in its very worst form, not only having the puppies at walk down with it, but also the whole of the entry taken ill within three days of one another in the middle of the hunting season. Of the former we have lost the one previously mentioned; of the latter the greater part are now hunting again, and the others will be out in a few days. I think the small losses we have are, in the case of the whelps at walk, due to the very great interest taken in the puppies by the walkers, who, immediately a puppy seems out of sorts, report to the kennels, and on learning what to do take every possible means to save it. The reason we lose so few in kennel is, I think, due to the fact that neither we nor our men neglect the slightest symptoms of distemper in a hound that has not had it, and even though it appears to be but a slight cold, give at once a distemper powder. The cure for distemper I would sum up in a few words—good nursing, plenty of fresh milk, and use of Heald’s distemper powders immediately the slightest symptoms declare themselves.”
Mr. E. P. Rawnsley (Southwold) writes: “My losses of last season were not serious, because, instead of losing the best hounds, the worst died, though all had it. In the Southwold kennel we never fail to have the disease badly, though I have tried every sort of prevention and cure. My own idea is that it is almost an inevitable complaint, but if hounds could be separated, only a couple being put together, and one experienced man was told off to each four couple to nurse them night and day, with special cooking for them and the use of every modern antiseptic treatment, very few would die; the amount of room required and the expense entailed would be enormous, as thirty couple or more may be all down with it.”
Mr. Thomas Robson (North Tyne) attributes the virulence of the disease to the kennels. “Although,” he says, “we had no loss when the puppies were at walk, I lost some after they came in—in fact, this place seems fatal. I have lost as many as nine puppies in a fortnight, the only survivor being a collie which lay outside in a straw stack and got no attention whatever, while the other patients were coddled and got every attention; these, however, were younger than the collie. I lost seven greyhounds out of nine in October, and it is only an odd terrier I am able to rear here. I have known a tame fox die at the same time as terrier and foxhound puppies.”
Mr. H. W. Selby Lowndes (East Kent) writes: “There is no doubt that distemper is contagious. It assumes different forms at different periods. I consider that there is a difference in dogs as regards their susceptibility. It is noticeable that mongrels and hardy dogs will escape, while pure-bred dogs of a valuable breed are most susceptible.... As a rule, dogs have distemper but once, but I understand cases are known of dogs having it three and even four times. There are several forms of the disease. (1) That which is accompanied by a nasty husky cough, sneezing, increase of pulse, and temperature irregular; sickness is an early symptom, the animal soon wastes away, and there is a discharge of muco-purulent matter, and weeping from the eyes. (2) This form takes the shape of fits, and is most fatal. (3) The hepatic form, in which the leading features are yellowness of the skin and visible mucous membrane, constipation, hard and colourless fæces, urine deeply coloured, with little wasting, no cough, but symptoms of fever.
“As regards management, the following are the methods adopted in my kennel, which are fairly healthy. I have a grass yard and lodging which was used for many years for young hounds that came in from walk. During the first two years of my mastership, when the young hounds used the grass yard, distemper broke out very badly, and I lost a great many. Since then young hounds have not used the yard, and have been kept, as far as possible, on entirely fresh ground each year. They are kept in an ordinary kennel and flagged yard, but have any amount of liberty and exercise, and are taken where they can eat fresh grass, the natural physic of dogs. My kennels are annually disinfected, and, above all, the drains are carefully overhauled.
“When young hounds come in from walk Benbow’s mixture is a rare tonic for them. When seized by distemper, in the first stage we give an emetic—tartarised antimony 2 grs., and calomel 2 grs., followed up by a vegetable tonic such as gentian, ginger, &c., 10 grs., and in all cases good nursing. If the hound rejects his food and is sick, we give diffusible stimulants, and as a tonic 1½ grs. of quinine and a little port-wine three times a day. When a hound’s brain is becoming affected, as a rule any discharge from the nostrils diminishes; the animal begins to eat, and appears to be doing well; then suddenly he becomes excited, and fits follow. When this occurs a seton should be put in between the ears, and if the hound is constipated a mild purgative should be given. Fits, as said above, however, usually indicate a fatal form of distemper.
“In cases of yellow distemper give an ounce of Peruvian bark and a glass of port-wine three times a day.... Whatever remedy of the many in favour is used good nursing is most essential, plenty of air during the day, and warmth at night. Benbow’s mixture gives an appetite, and thus helps to keep the hound’s strength. When the appetite is gone, the patient should be given any dainty morsel procurable. Artificial heating in the hospital is a mistake. In all cases tonics should be the foundation of the treatment, with good nursing.”
Captain Standish (West Hambledon) remarks that distemper varies in intensity from year to year. The diaries kept by his father during his mastership of the Hursley, 1862–69, and the New Forest Hounds, 1869–74, show that he sustained heavy losses: and this despite the fact that in those days the absence of motor-cars and less rigorous game preserving made it possible to give hounds at walk greater liberty.
The Earl of Stradbroke (Henham Harriers) writes:
“After enjoying freedom from distemper for several years, it broke out last November, having been introduced by a retriever. The disease attacked the older hounds, none of the younger ones being affected; possibly the latter may have had distemper while at walk. One hound died. The disease seemed to be in the head and lungs. The treatment I adopted was to give a dose of castor oil directly a hound showed any sign of being amiss, and then Spratt’s Distemper Pills, feeding on milk or gravy, and avoiding all solid food for some days. Several of the hounds were very ill, the strongest being the most severely affected, but, with the one exception, they all pulled round, and none of them seem any the worse now, though it took them some weeks to recover condition.”
Mr. Hubert M. Wilson (Cheshire) thinks that his small losses of the spring of 1905 were rather a matter of good fortune than anything else. But he says: “I certainly had the young hounds put in couples as soon as they came in from quarters, and regularly exercised instead of being turned loose into the kennel. I also built a new kennel of wood, with a very good cinder yard, where they seemed to do very much better than in former years. These are all the precautions that occur to me at the moment that were taken. But I cannot help thinking that the hounds that are in-bred to certain strains are, if not liable to distemper, certainly less able to resist it.”
In answer to a further query, Mr. Wilson says that his last remark was meant to apply to in-breeding to any strain too much, and not to any particular strain of blood.
Some interesting and suggestive points are raised in the foregoing letters; as these indicate the necessity for further enquiry, and as space forbids any adequate review in the present number of the information kindly furnished by our correspondents, we propose to return to the subject in a future issue.
Recollections of Seventy-five Years’ Sport.
I.
I saw a good deal of sport with the Pytchley and Quorn and also with Mr. Tailby’s hounds in old days. I remember one season, when I was staying with Mr. Angerstein at Kelmarsh, the Pytchley had been passing through a phase of indifferent sport, not having killed a fox for several days. On one of these days, after dinner, there was much talk on the subject, and some abuse of the huntsman, Charles Payne, and the hounds; I had a high opinion of both, and defended them, saying that the fault lay not with them, but with the Northamptonshire squires and the field. Mr. Vyse thereupon said he should like to know what I should do were I the master. I told him I would not put meat in my mouth until my hounds had been fed upon fox.
The reply brought down a good deal of chaff upon me. Next day, as it happened, we had a good run with an afternoon fox. After passing Yelverton Gorse, I felt sure that the main earth on the Hemploe was his point, and determined to give hounds a helping hand if it could be done; so, riding straight across the vale to the Hemploe, I reached the main earth barely two minutes before the hunted fox arrived, and turned him away. Hounds were coming steadily along, but half-way up the hill several foxes were afoot, and the pack divided, only five hounds sticking to the line of the hunted fox. Payne blew his horn to get them together, and the second whipper-in, attempting to stop the five, I told him they would kill their fox if he left them alone.
“What am I to do, Sir?” he asked.
I said, “You hear the huntsman’s horn?” and the man did nothing. Very soon after Payne came up, rather angry. The whipper-in, however, disarmed him by confessing that he had done wrong; “But,” he added, “I could not stop them, as Mr. Fellowes said they were killing their fox.” Whereupon Payne laid the body of the pack on the line, and killed in a few minutes.
I had the best of it that evening after dinner.
I was in the famous Waterloo run of February 22, 1866. Its merits have been very much overrated, for hounds were constantly changing foxes, and were never near catching any one of them. It was only a journey.
One of the fastest runs I ever saw in the Midlands was fifty-five minutes, from Thorpe Trussels to Rolleston. William Coke (otherwise known as “Billy Coke”), my old college friend, Stirling Crawfurd, Little Gilmour, and myself were alone with hounds when they killed in Rolleston Spinney; the pace had beaten the rest of the field. Another time I had a very fast gallop from Parson’s Gorse up to Bunny Park. The incident remains in memory, as I had it all to myself on a five-year-old horse, The Kite (by Falcon, dam by Julius Cæsar), belonging to Mr. Crawfurd. The Kite’s portrait, by Ferneley, now hangs at Buchanan Castle.
I had some good horses in those days. In a run from Crick Gorse hounds crossed the Stamford and Rugby Railway, then in process of construction, and enclosed with new double posts and rails. My horse jumped them both, in and out, and I was up when the fox went to ground in the yard at the back of Standford Hall.
The first man to come up was that fine old fellow, Sir Francis Head; I did not know him to speak to. He, however, made me a profound bow, saying he “hoped I was satisfied with myself.” I said my satisfaction was less with myself than my horse, as indeed it was, for that was my first day on him.
The Wizard was one of the best hunters I ever had. At the finish of a fine run with the Pytchley he jumped the Avon, in spite of the fact that the flood water was out on each side of him. It was a big jump; Jim Mason, the steeplechase rider, and many others, failed to reach the other side. Mason was so impressed with The Wizard, that he offered to pay me the value of the stakes of the Liverpool Steeplechase before the horse started, if I would lend him for six weeks; but I refused. He was well suited for the Liverpool course: fast, good at water, and also at banks—thanks to his training in Norfolk.
Mason had a vein of originality in him. Returning from hunting to Market Harborough from Langton one afternoon, he and some others had to cross the brook. Fog came on very suddenly, and they could not find the ford; they turned back, but it was so thick they could not find the gate. Mason then said there was nothing for it but to cry “Murder,” to bring some one to their aid, and he did it lustily. Nobody coming to help, he changed his tactics. “Let’s be very jolly and laugh,” he suggested. The rest agreeing, they laughed so long and loudly, that three labourers came to see what the joke was.
The Coot, a chestnut, was another good horse. On him I had a grand gallop from Waterloo Gorse, by Tally-ho Stick Covert to ground near Cottesbrooke Park. It was a very fast thing, and there was nobody else in sight of hounds during the latter half of the run.
The Coot was well known in Leicestershire in his day. Visiting the patients in the Leicester Infirmary one day, a poor fellow, who lay very ill in his bed, called to me, “Squire, Squire,” as I was leaving the ward. Going to his bedside, I found that he wanted to enquire after the health and well-being of the Coot.
One morning, when staying at Lamport Hall, I went to meet the Quorn at Keythorpe Hall, and as I came near, Charles Leslie (then M.P. for Monaghan) came galloping forward to meet me with a message from Sir Richard Sutton. It appeared that at a large party which had taken place overnight at Quorndon Hall there had been much talk about various riders, and Sir Richard had declared that if I were out I should beat the whole field. Leslie had sent his best horse, Marmion, for me to ride; but I preferred my own, and did not regret it.
It was as well that hounds were able to run that day, for there was some pretty hard riding. They found in Ram’s Head Gorse, and ran fast, over a very strongly-fenced country, to Stockerston Wood. I led during the whole run, jumping gates and whatever else came in the way; and when hounds entered the wood the only other man in the field was Little Gilmour. Lord Cardigan was close up with him: he had put his thumb out of joint in a bad fall, and had to go home.
In talking over the riders he knew with Lord Cardigan, he paid Lord Wilton what I thought a great compliment, saying he thought nothing of his riding, “for he would jump through the bars of a gate.” It seemed to me to prove the ease with which he crossed country, and certainly few men were often as near hounds as Lord Wilton in a good run.
Sir Richard Sutton was always very kind to me. I well remember his gratification when I justified his good predictions that I should cut down the field. But on another day I had the misfortune to get into his bad books. He was going to draw Norton Gorse, and on the way we had to pass through Ilston Spinney. Having had a hint from a farmer, I made haste to get through the spinney, and when half-way heard a view halloo. Away went the fox and away went the hounds on a blazing scent—no master, no servants, and a hard riding field on the top of the pack, with nobody to keep them in hand. It was a regular scurry, and many of them got falls, among them Lord Wilton. At last hounds checked, and the Baronet came up. We had unduly pressed hounds, and nobody had a word to say when he spoke his mind about it. We all caught it in a strain we remembered, though Sir Richard never allowed an abusive word to pass his lips. Egged on by others, I begged him to let us off, promising to help kill the fox, for I had seen him in the Norton Brook while I was in the air. Hounds were got on to the line, and, settling to it, soon killed him.
“Now,” said Sir Richard, “I will serve you all out; I’ll find my next fox in Charnwood Forest.”
There was general dismay at this announcement, for Charnwood Forest was fourteen miles off. Lord Gardner, recovering the shock first, came up to me.
“You must stop this!” he said. “Go and apologise for us.” I declined, feeling and saying that I was no better than the worst among the offenders; but on Lord Gardner’s urging that “there was nobody else he would listen to,” I gave way, and Sir Richard, like the really good, kind-hearted master he was, let us off, and found another fox close by.
There were two lively young members of the Quorn who habitually pressed hounds, Colonel Forrester and Bromley Davenport, whose shortness of sight may perhaps be pleaded in extenuation. On arriving at the meet in his chariot, as the vehicle was called in the ’forties, Sir Richard enquired of his first whipper-in whether these gentlemen were out. He was told they were, and forthwith the whipper-in was ordered to draw some of the best hounds, which were put into the carriage and sent home!
Sir Richard Sutton had a strong sense of the duty of a master and the right way to discharge it. On one occasion he killed his fox in the shrubbery of a clergyman. The place was very nicely kept, and the hunt servants having made, as was rather unavoidable, rather a mess of the paths, &c., the owner wrote to complain. Sir Richard, instead of going to the meet with a pair of horses next morning, ordered out four, and went a good deal out of his way to call and apologise; to offer payment also. The clergyman, a very gentlemanly man, repented the tenor of his complaint, and Sir Richard’s anxiety to put matters right quite disarmed him. He apologised for having written, would not hear of accepting compensation, and expressed the hope that he might see hounds in his neighbourhood again soon! So much for civility.
My acquaintance with Lord Gardner, to whom I have referred before, began in a way which illustrates one phase of that good sportsman’s character. One day, when still fresh from college, I was riding a five-year-old. Lord Gardner took my place at a fence and nearly gave me a fall. I passed him in the next field, out of which there was only one place, and that beside an elm. He came at it with a rush; I gave my horse his head, and jumping side by side with Gardner threw him heavily against the tree. He reported this to Mr. Little Gilmour, but got little sympathy, Gilmour telling him that if he meddled with me he would probably get himself killed. “Do you think so?” said Gardner. “Yes I do,” replied Gilmour. “Then please introduce me to him,” said Gardner. We became fast friends, and our friendship continued all the time he stayed in the country.
Rather a funny incident occurred with the Quorn one day in a scurry from Cream Lodge Gorse. A sporting captain’s horse fell over a large ant-hill, and the soldier came down rolled in a lump. I got down and stretched him out in a furrow. It was damp, and he soon changed his position; so, remarking that if he was able to look for a dry place I thought he could take care of himself, I jumped on my horse again and went on. The gallant soldier was grievously hurt by my remark, considering it implied that he was soft. His feelings suffered more injury than his body.
In a good run with the Quorn the fox crossed the canal. We most of us rode for the bridge and stood on it until the hounds were well over. Cardigan and Wilbraham Tollemache stuck to the hounds and crossed the canal with them, Cardigan exclaiming: “I am in first, Wilbraham!” In a minute his brother-in-law exclaimed, “I am out first, Cardigan,” and jumped on his horse, leaving Cardigan struggling in the water. A man on the bridge called out: “Paddle with your ’ands, my lord; paddle with your ’ands.” There were not many feet of water.
In those days there was scarcely any wire, and the now familiar warning to “ware wire,” was rarely heard. In a gallop from Masterton Oziers one large field was fenced with it, and we made for a gate. One man stuck to the hounds, and falling head over heels over the fence was a good deal hurt. We had called out “wire” repeatedly, and the more we did so the faster he rode. His reason for doing so, he said, was that he saw it was a big jump, and thought we were calling “fire, fire,” for him to fire away at it, with plenty of steam on! Mr. Haycock, a hard-riding yeoman, went head over heels in a bottom and could not get out. Lord Macdonald coming next pulled up. Haycock called out “Come on, my Lord, there is accommodation for you here as well as for me.” The Lord of the Isles declined the invitation. Haycock sold a nice horse to a Duke, who took him to task for selling him such a brute. “What’s the matter, your Grace?” “He has been running away with me all the morning.” “If that is all I don’t care; when he was mine I was always running away with him.” Sir James Musgrave, riding a nice horse, told him he was slovenly at timber. “Take him out on Sunday morning, Sir James, and give him a few heavy falls over timber,” was his advice.
No fence is as nice as timber if your horse knows his business, but do not take liberties with it with the sun in your horse’s eyes, or be heard to call out “ware horse”; it is always “ware hound.” Another hint—do not hunt in a cap, as it will not give way in a fall, but your neck may.
Gumley Wood was at one time unintentionally spoiled as a covert by the clergyman of Gumley. He was a mighty collector of moths; he so bedaubed with treacle the trees in the wood that the foxes would not lay in it; but we always found in the gorse close by. In the next parish lived one of Whyte Melville’s heroes, Parson Dove. Jogging home after hunting one evening, I asked him how he filled up his spare time in the summer; he said he gardened a good deal. Enquiry elicited that there was but one flower he cared for, and that was a cauliflower.
Robert Fellowes.
(To be continued.)