Author: J. A. Hammerton and John Leech

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by M.F.H. for my zeal.

Saturday.—M.F.H. pointed out five non-subscribers, and I at once started off to "cap" them. Lost another day with hounds—shall send in my resignation.

[Pg 21]

Gent (who has just executed a double somersault and is somewhat dazed.) "Now where the dickens has that horse gone to?"

[Pg 22]

ON EXMOOR

Gent (very excited after his first gallop with staghounds.) "Hi, mister, don't let the dogs maul 'im, and I'll take the 'aunch at a bob a pound!"

[Pg 23]

COOKED ACCOUNTS

Extract from old Fitzbadly's letter to a friend, describing a run in the Midlands:—"I was well forward at the brook, but lost my hat, and had to dismount."

[Pg 24]

"Hup—yer beast!"

"Hup!!—yer brute!"

[Pg 25]

"Hup!!!—yer infernal, confounded —— Hover!!!"

And "Hover" it was!

[Pg 26]

SOMETHING LIKE A NOSE.

Whip (after galloping half a mile to a holloa.) "Where did you see him?"

Yokel. "Can't zay as 'ow I 'zactly zeed 'un, but I think I smelled 'un!"

[Pg 27]

Second Horseman No. 1. "Ulloah, Danny, what are you lookin' for?"

Second Horseman No. 2. "Perkisites. Guv'nor's just been over 'ere. 'E jumps so much 'igher than 'is 'orse, there's always some small change or summat to be picked up!"

[Pg 28]

THE NEW NIMROD

[Mr. Pat O'Brien, M.P., was first in at the death on one occasion with the Meath Hounds on his bicycle, and was presented with the brush.]

Air—"The Hunting Day"

"What a fine hunting day"—

'Tis an old-fashioned lay

That I'll change to an up-to-date pome;

Old stagers may swear

That the pace isn't fair,

But they're left far behind us at home!

See cyclists and bikes on their way,

And scorchers their prowess display;

Let us join the glad throng

That goes wheeling along,

And we'll all go a-hunting to-day!

New Nimrods exclaim,

"Timber-topping" is tame,

And "bull-finches" simply child's play;

And they don't care a jot

For a gallop or trot,

Though they will go a-hunting to-day.

There's a fox made of clockwork, they say

They'll wind him and get him away;

He runs with a rush

On rails with his brush,

So we must go and chase him to-day.

We've abolished the sounds

Of the horn and the hounds—

'Tis the bicycle squeaker that squeals

And the pack has been stuffed,

Or sent to old Cruft,

Now the huntsmen have taken to wheels!

Hairy country no more we essay,

Five bars, too, no longer dismay,

For we stick to the roads

In the latest of modes,

So we'll bike after Reynard to-day!

[Pg 29]

THE LANGUAGE OF SPORT.

"Where the——! What the——!! Who the——!!! Why the——!!!!"

[Pg 30]

COMFORTING, VERY!

Sportsman (who has mounted friend on bolting mare) shouts. "You're all right, old chap! She's never been known to refuse water, and swims like a fish!"

[Pg 31]

Old Stubbles (having pounded the swells.) "Aw—haw——! laugh away, but who be the roight side o' the fence, masters?"

[Pg 32]

CUB HUNTING

1. "Ah, my boys," said Percy Johnson, "give me a good old hurry and scurry—Heigh O! gee whoa!—over the downs and through the brushwood after the cubs. So, early in the morning as you like. What can be more exhilarating?"

2. So, in happy anticipation of the morrow's meet, he retired.

[Pg 33]

3. Later, at 4 a.m., the butler came to rouse him. "Sir!" A pause. "Sir, th' 'osses be very nigh ready!" Uncertain voice from within—"Eh? good-night! Remember to call me early in the morning!"

4. Snoring resumed in infinitum. Still, Percy looked rather sheepish later on, when the others pretended they had missed him on the road, and inquired whether he had found the morning as exhilarating as he had expected.

[Pg 34]

MY LITTLE BROWN MARE (A Song for the commencement of the Hunting Season)

She's rather too lean but her head's a large size,

And she hasn't the average number of eyes;

Her hind legs are not what you'd call a good pair,

And she's broken both knees, has my little brown mare.

You can find some amusement in counting each rib,

And she bites when she's hungry like mad at her crib;

When viewed from behind she seems all on the square,

She's quite a Freemason—my little brown mare.

Her paces are rather too fast, I suppose,

For she often comes down on her fine Roman nose,

And the way she takes fences makes hunting men stare,

For she backs through the gaps does my little brown mare.

She has curbs on her hocks and no hair on her knees;

She has splints and has spavins wherever you please?

Her neck, like a vulture's, is horribly bare,

But still she's a beauty, my little brown mare.

She owns an aversion to windmills and ricks,

When passing a waggon she lies down and kicks;

And the clothes of her groom she'll persistently tear—

But still she's no vice has my little brown mare.

When turned down to grass she oft strays out of bounds;

She always was famous for snapping at hounds;

And even the baby has learnt to beware

The too playful bite of my little brown mare.

She prances like mad and she jumps like a flea,

And her waltz to a brass band is something to see:

No circus had ever a horse, I declare,

That could go through the hoops like my little brown mare.

I mount her but seldom—in fact, to be plain,

Like the Frenchman, when hunting I "do not remain:"

Since I've only one neck it would hardly be fair

To risk it in riding my little brown mare!

[Pg 35]

TROUBLES OF A WOULD-BE SPORTSMAN

Huntsman (to W.B.S.). "Just 'op across, would ye, sir, and turn those 'ounds to me, please."

[Pg 36]

RESPICE FINEM

Excited Shepherd (to careful Sportsman, inspecting fence with slight drop). "Come on, sir! All right! Anywhere 'ere!"

Careful Sportsman. "All very fine! You want to give me a fall, and get half-a-crown for catching my horse!"

[Pg 37]

"WEEDS"

[Pg 38]

"'WARE WIRE!"

"Hallo, Jack! What's up?"

"Don' know! I'm not!"

Misplaced Energy

Huntsman (seeking a beaten fox). "Now then, have you seen anything of him?"

Cockney Sportsman (immensely pleased with himself). "Well, rather! Why, I've just driven him into this drain for you!"

[Pg 39]

"WHILE YOU WAIT"

"Here, my good man, just pull those rails down. Be as quick as you can!"

"Take 'em down, miss! It'll be a good four hours' job, for I've been all the mornin' a-puttin' of 'em up!"

[Pg 40]

ECHOES OF THE CHASE. BOXING DAY

Holiday Sportsman (to Whip, who has been hollering). "Where's the fox?"

Whip. "Gone away, of course."

H. S. "Gone away! Wotcher makin' all that noise for, then? I thought you'd caught 'im!"

[Pg 41]

EASILY SATISFIED

Gent (who all but dissolved partnership at the last fence). "Thank goodness I've got hold of the reins again! If I could but get my foot into that confounded stirrup, I should be all right!"

[Pg 42]

A Nice Prospect

Host (to Perks, an indifferent horseman, who has come down for the hunting). "Now, look here, Perks, old chap, as you're a light weight, I'll get you to ride this young mare of mine. You see, I want to get her qualified for our Hunt Cup, and she's not up to my weight, or I'd ride her myself. Perhaps I'd better tell you she hasn't been ridden to hounds before, so she's sure to be a bit nervous at first; and mind you steady her at the jumps, as she's apt to rush them; and I wouldn't take her too near other people, as she has a nasty temper, and knows how to use her heels; and, whatever you do, don't let her get you down, or she'll tear you to pieces. The last man that rode her is in hospital now. But keep your eye on her, and remember what I've said, and you'll be all right!"

[Consternation of Perks

'Arry on 'Orseback

Our 'Arry goes 'unting and sings with a will,

"The 'orn of the 'unter is 'eard on the 'ill:"

And oft, when a saddle looks terribly bare,

The 'eels of our 'Arry are seen in the air!

[Pg 43]

'W. STANDS FOR WIRE'

"Hulloah, Jarge! Been puttin' up some wire to keep the fox-hunter away?"

"Noa, I b'ain't put up no wire; but the 'unt they sends me a lot o' them boards with 'W' on um, so I just stuck 'em up all round the land, and they never comes nigh o' me now!"

[Pg 44]

THE HUNTING SEASON

Rector. "Is that the parcels post, James? He's early this morning, isn't he?" (Noise without, baying of dogs, &c.) "What's all this——"

James (excited). "Yes, sir. Postman says as how the young 'ounds, a comin' back from cubbin', found 'im near the kennels, and runned 'im all the way 'ere. They was close on 'im when he got in! Thinks it was a packet o' red 'errins in the bag, sir! I see the run from the pantry window"—(with enthusiasm)—"a beautiful ten minutes' bu'st, sir!"]

[Pg 45]

"Duck, you fool! Duck!"

[Pg 46]

Hunting "Day by Day"

"The Mudsquashington Foxhounds had a good day's sport from Wotsisname Coverts (which were laid for a large number). They found in Thingamy Woods, rattled him round the Osier Beds, and then through the Gorse, just above Sumware. Leaving this and turning left-handed, he ran on as far as Sumotherplace, where he finally got to ground. Amongst the numerous field were Lord Foozle and Lady Frump, Messrs. Borkins, Poshbury, and Tomkyn-Smith."[A]

[A] Half a dozen similar paragraphs cut out as being too exciting for the average reader's brain to bear.—Ed.

At Melton

First Sportsman. "That crock of yours seems to be a bit of a songster."

Second Sportsman. "Yes, he has always been like that since I lent him to a well-known English tenor."

First Sportsman (drily). "You should have taken him in exchange."

[Pg 47]

A NICE BEGINNING.

The above is not a French bull-fight, but merely the unpleasant adventure Mr. Jopling experienced on our opening day, when a skittish Alderney crossed him at the first fence.

[Pg 48]