Chapter VII: Front Matter (7)

The Oriental ideas about the use of the sword differ so completely from those of Western peoples that they may be briefly referred to. In Europe, the sword has generally been used for a trenchant cut, though the employment of the point has also been cultivated by some nations, especially among the higher ranks. About the only army in history that has used the point alone was that of Rome. The legionaries did little or no cutting, and this was the more remarkable because the Roman broadsword was a very short weapon, and all modern experience has seemed to point out that, if a sword is to be principally used for pointing, it must be of more than ordinary length. But, in the East, the trenchant cut, depending for its effect on the weight and power with which it is delivered, has never found favour, and the use of the point has equally been of very small consideration. The Oriental swordsman has always made use of what may be called a drawing cut, placing against the object that he wishes to sever the edge of his weapon, and either pulling it towards him or pushing it away from him, preferably the latter. The action is not, of course, in itself so instantaneous as that of the trenchant cut, but the whole time consumed by the swordsman is no longer in one case than the other, and may even possibly be shorter, for there is no preliminary swing of the arm and the drawing cut can be delivered without leaving a position of defence. The curved shape of most Oriental sword blades has been adopted for the purpose of giving the greatest effect to the drawing cut, as will be apparent to any one who considers the matter, for the curve naturally follows the action in the most complete manner, the keen edge being in contact with its object throughout the whole length of its blade. How deep an Oriental sword could bite in the hands of a skilful man, when used in the way that has been described, has been proved from time immemorial. On the battlefield it was no unfrequent circumstance to see heads and limbs cut clean off, and the wounds were generally of a terrible character. So well known was the deadly power of the Indian sword that, in our Eastern wars, precaution were often taken by our soldiers to protect with chains the shoulder and forearms (the places at which the enemy most often struck), and this modified form of armour may still be seen in the shoulder chains on one of the many patterns of service coat that have been issued to our cavalry in recent years.

Among the most popular feats of swordsmanship that are to be seen even to-day in the East are those that Saladin exhibited to Richard Cœur de Lion, cutting in two a down cushion or severing a floating veil—feats absolutely impossible of execution with a European sabre—and these are done, with many variations, not only dismounted but on horseback at full speed. Then there is the well-known performance of cutting a dead sheep in two. The sheep is hung by its hind-legs from the arm of a sort of gallows, and the swordsman, galloping past, delivers a back cut at it, aiming between the ribs and the haunch, and seldom failing to sever it. This feat, as it is now generally performed, is not so difficult as it may appear from description, for the carcase is skinned, and the backbone, with the slenderest portion of the body, offer really small resistance to a keen blade. But it is understood that, in olden days, it was not usual to skin the sheep, and the presence of skin and wool must then have made the swordsman’s task hard indeed. Many English officers have, with fair success, tried to cut a sheep in two, but, even though they used the curved Eastern sword, they always seemed to perform the feat by main force, and not by the proper use of the drawing cut, and I have in my possession a tulwar with a notch in the blade, showing where, in the hands of a very powerful man, it rent a sheep’s backbone. If a native had handled the weapon no such accident could have happened, for the drawing cut, depending only on the keen edge and the way in which it is applied, could not possibly have chipped the blade, no sudden shock being given by it to the highly-tempered steel. Lemoncutting, which is now often seen in England, was introduced from India, and here again neatness of performance is much more likely to be attained by the drawing cut than by the swashing blow employed by so many of our cavalrymen. True, the swords generally available for our competitions at home are hardly ever sharp enough to be used in the best way, and indeed the clumsy weapon now issued to English soldiers, with its absurd steel scabbard that quickly blunts a keen edge, is ill adapted for any practical purpose whatever.

So far, I have only talked about the most common and characteristic swords of India, which, with many minor distinctions and under the names of _Tulwar_, _Selappa_, _Tegha_, &c., &c., are found everywhere from Cape Comorin to the Himalayas, but there are several other swords, completely different, which are peculiar to individual tribes or nations among the vast congeries of races united under British rule or influence. First, the long, straight, double-edged blade, fitted into a gauntlet hilt which, though found in the north and south of India, is best known in the Punjab, where the Sikhs, in their sword play, still practise its use. The generic name of this sword is _Pata_, and it is said to have been the principal weapon used by the cavalry of the Great Mogul. To a European eye, it certainly appears a somewhat unwieldy weapon and ill-adapted to the purposes of a mounted man. Its blade is over three feet long, and it is fixed in a handle made like a plate mail gauntlet, which covers the arm nearly as far as the elbow. On account of its peculiar hilt, this sword is not manipulated like others from the wrist, but from the elbow; and, as far as I know, it is the only weapon known in the world which does not in some degree demand flexibility of wrist. Unlike the curved _Tulwar_, which has a rigid and rather narrow blade, the blade of the _Pata_ is broad and flexible, and I have one specimen before me in which the point will almost meet the hilt. The qualities of steel from which the two kinds of swords are made are in this respect very different, but they are alike in that both can take the finest of edges. And all Eastern swords have this also in common, that all have wooden or leather sheaths, so that no risk is run that the edge of the blade shall ever be dulled from want of care. To-day, the _Pata_ is never carried by Indian princes or nobles, even on occasions of state and ceremony, and it is never seen in the hands of anybody except the professional swordsmen, who give exhibitions of their skill at the great fairs and at Mohammedan or Hindoo festivals, such as the _Mohurrum_ or the _Dussera_. The performances of any one of these men are wonderful. He will show the keenness of his weapon and his command of its weight by cutting in two a leaf laid flat on the outstretched palm of a friend, or by severing a cloth hanging loose in the air. He will then squat down on his hams and will slice from side to side a small nut, which is tossed on to the flat ground in front of him. He will grasp a sword in each hand and, so armed, will spring from his feet and throw somersaults backwards and forwards. Again, with sword and shield in his hands, he will leap head foremost through the stretched-out loop of a rope, held by two men at the height of their heads, as a circus-rider leaps through a paper hoop, and alight safely on his feet. These exhibitions are extremely popular, and the harvest of small change collected by the plucky athlete from the crowd of gaping spectators must do something to prevent the knowledge of the old sword-play from dying out. I have never seen or heard of a European essaying to handle the _Pata_, and, indeed, I have seldom seen a _Pata_ whose gauntlet hilt would admit the grasp of even a small European hand.

Another straight-bladed and double-edged sword is the _Khanda_ of the Rajput, and as the Rajputs are the most long-descended, chivalrous, and warlike of all the nations in India, so was the _Khanda_ held in the highest honour and reverence, so was it worshipped yearly at the festival of the _Karga S’hapna_ as a symbol of _Heri_, the god of battle, and so was an oath sworn upon it the most binding of compacts. Even to-day the _Khanda_, or indeed any sword, is recognised as an offering showing the profoundest homage and the strictest fidelity, by the universal Indian custom of presenting the hilt to a superior, who touches it in acknowledgment of the implied loyalty. The _Khanda_, like the _Pata_, is made of flexible steel of various degrees of excellence, though all blades are of the most reliable description. A rough test may be given, by which the merit of any particular straight blade may be approximately gauged. If it has one groove running down its length, it is good; if it has two, it is better, and if it has three, it is of special worth. Sometimes the _Khanda_ has a long iron spike projecting from the hilt, and this was probably for the purpose of using the sword double-handed in case of need, and it could possibly also serve as an additional weapon in a close _mêlée_. It is to be remarked that, in using the _Pata_, _Khanda_, and other straight swords, the drawing cut is still the favourite, though the form of the blade involves that it must be somewhat modified.

Pass we to a class of swords which demand special remark, on account of their appropriateness to the districts in which they have originated, and of these there are two especially which attract our notice as being essentially the same in character, though they differ somewhat in shape. The _Kukri_, the national weapon of Nepal, is only eighteen or nineteen inches in total length, and has a blade of bright steel, incurved, heavy, and widening towards the point. It has more the qualities of a good billhook than anything else, and it was no doubt originally devised to do duty as a billhook as much as for fighting purposes, for the Gorkha had to clear his way through the thickly growing vegetation of the Terai forests. I have often lent to my shikaris, when shooting in the Western Ghauts, a _Kukri_ for use in the jungle, and it always proved invaluable. What a handy tool it is in the grasp of its true proprietor, the Gorkha, is well known—how formidable it is as a weapon, those who have been in action with our Gorkha battalions can emphatically testify, and this can be the more clearly realised when it is told that, with his _Kukri_, the Gorkha can strike off the head of a bullock at one blow.

Like the Gorkha _Kukri_, the _Ayda Katti_, the big knife of the Coorg mountaineer, derives its shape from the daily requirements of life in dense jungles. The heavy monsoon clouds which, in their course, first meet and void their moisture on the hilly west coast of India, nourish an extraordinarily luxuriant vegetation, and the tribesmen there found the constant want of an implement to cut a path through the lush bamboos and creepers. The Coorg knife is about the same size as the _Kukri_, but is wider and heavier. It has also an incurved blade, and is equally useful for all the services of peace. The men of Coorg have had no recent experience of war, but legend tells that, sword in hand, they were in old days dreaded for their prowess in battle. The army of Hyder Ali found the Nairs (Coorg tribesmen) the most redoubtable opponents that it had to deal with before it had the ill-fortune to be marched against British battalions. The Coorg knife has the peculiarity that it alone, of all varieties of swords, never has a sheath. It is so constantly required on the west coast that it is generally carried in the hand ready for immediate use. When, of necessity, it is put aside, it is carried, still with the blade uncovered, slung across the owner’s hips.

No record of Indian swords would be complete without some mention of the _Salawar Yataghan_, the Khyber or Afghan knife, though perhaps it more properly belongs to the frontier. This is the weapon that in the hands of the Ghazis, drunk with bhang and lust of slaughter, has, in the actions on the North-West Frontier, done such stern work, and has also been signalised as the terrible instrument with which the wounded, who fell into Afghan hands, have ever been bloodily dispatched and mutilated. It has a broad, heavy, single-edged, straight-backed blade with a sharp point, and is so balanced that its trenchant cut is weighty indeed.

The Afghan gives no drawing cut with his _Yataghan_, but cuts like a European and, on occasion, uses the point. The weapon seems to be especially devised for the use of desperate men who wish to kill, without any thought of protecting themselves, for its handle being absolutely plain and unguarded like that of an ordinary carving knife, it can never be used effectively for warding a blow or parrying a thrust. The blade is generally about two feet and two or three inches long, and, made of bright steel, seems to derive its strength from its proportions and its thickness rather than from high temper. The _Salawar Yataghan_ cannot be classed as a weapon adapted to any of the scientific niceties of swordsmanship, but must be thought of rather as a murderous knife, fit alone for purposes of slaughter.

There are other forms of swords to be found on the frontiers of India, the Burmese _Dha_, the Malay _Kris_, &c., &c., but none of them have any special merit as warlike weapons, and they are really almost impotent for attack or defence when opposed to the more well-considered weapons of more cultivated peoples. All of them have their limitations of value; they can inflict injury, but from their form they are essentially feeble in defence.

It was natural that swords, in their hilts, their blades and their sheaths, should, from the variety and general elegance of their shapes, have been the basis of ornament to a very great extent. The Monarch, the great Prince, or the warlike leader of men has, if he allowed himself ornament at all (and here be it remarked that the most potent individuals have almost always been remarkable for their personal simplicity), generally lavished such ornament upon his sword, the emblem of his power. And when he sent a gift to a brother potentate, or a man whom he delighted to honour, it was not infrequently a sword of the most perfect quality, adorned with jewels and workmanship of notable value. The ornamentation of swords gives to us a strongly-marked and trustworthy indication of the religion and often of the nationality of the men who fashioned them. There is as much difference between the artistic ideas of the north and south of India as there is between the delicate and graceful architecture of the great Mohammedan shrines and palaces, and the heavy, massive and sometimes grotesque construction of the old Hindoo temples. To enter into all the peculiarities of ornament would take too long, but it may shortly be said that, bearing in mind that it is contrary to the Prophets’ law to reproduce the similitude of any living thing, a sword ornamented with delicate tracery and a floral pattern may generally be supposed to come from a Mohammedan race in the North, while one bearing representations of men, beasts or birds, has probably been made in the Brahminical South.

All kinds of materials have been used in ornamenting swords. Besides precious jewels, gold and silver, a place has been found for Jaipur enamel, Koftgari work, Bidri work, &c., &c., and all means have been taken to add to artistic beauty, contrast of colour and intrinsic value. If any one would see how rich is the effect thus produced, let him take an opportunity of visiting one of our great national collections, those places full of articles worthy to be “stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings.”

There is one most invaluable quality in which all Eastern swords are well-nigh perfect. They are all most admirably balanced and can all be most effectively employed with the minimum of personal exertion. To appreciate this transcendent quality at its proper value, it is only necessary to handle an English cavalry sword, which is as much lacking in true balance as any Indian sword possesses that most essential character. The West has still some lessons to learn from the immemorial East.

To talk of the swords only of India has exhausted all my space, and yet but a very meagre sketch has been accomplished. Perhaps what has been written may, however, induce some reader to make an exhaustive study of the subject. He would surely be rewarded by learning much that is of the highest artistic, historical and practical value.

The other weapons of India, and there are many, are of nearly, if not quite, equal interest. Perhaps I may some day be allowed to say something about them.

What Next?

Any one who has wielded his pen with the independence which you, Mr. Editor, have permitted me to practise must expect criticism, nor should he turn a deaf ear to it. Critics, friendly or otherwise, have passed judgment on my Christmas dream of sport, my hazy forecast of its future, and some have thrown at me the pertinent query of, “What next would you have us believe, ‘you veiled old prophet of Khorassan’?” My only answer to-day is that of the sucking dove. “Wait and see.”

In this new year I do not stand alone when the momentous question is passed round of “What next?” among sportsmen, politicians, and populations. Hard nuts to crack there are on every side, and we envy not the jaws whose lot it is to deal with some of them.

Sportsmen, however, are for the most part content to sail with the breeze—contrary winds are troublesome, and they do not like losing sight of old landmarks, albeit in times like the present they are being wafted farther and farther away from them. This their compass, if they will only stop to consult it, must tell them only too truly. Ought they to put back into harbour, or boldly dash on towards other coasts and new scenes, of which it may profit them to know more? Does it not behove them to live and learn in a wider sphere of life than when they started on their life’s voyage; and, as politicians would put it, to think Imperially, even of their sports?

Thus they must ere long come to see that in the unison of ideas, the blending of nationalities, and the gradual bridging over of our insular position, we are fated to learn, however unwillingly, that the past and the future stand in an entirely different relation to one another than they have been wont to do.

Sportsmen, I would appeal to you. Is it not in your inmost hearts a question of what next all round the country? It was, perhaps, a bold stroke on my part to advocate even the partial extinction of the bookmakers, the reform of the Jockey Club, and the use of the Totaliser, or _pari-mutuel_, so strongly as I did last month; yet common-sense, expediency and profit seem to put this in the forefront of reforms on the Turf in reply to the question which heads this article. Our object-lesson on this subject is, undoubtedly, France, where, since September last, the bookmaker as such has been totally excluded, and we are indebted to a very lucid and exhaustive letter from a French backer, in the _Sporting Times_, for a knowledge of the results of its first two months’ working. He tells us that, taking the race meetings of Longchamps, Maison-la-Flite, Chantilly, Auteuil, Colombus, St. Ouen, St. Cloud, Compiegne and Enghien, the sum of 5,927,318 francs (£237,092) more were taken at the _mutuel_ than in 1904, the total takings from September 3rd to November 13th, 1905, being 66,917,515 francs (£2,676,700), against, in 1904, 55,787,910 francs (£2,231,516), showing an increase of over eleven million francs. It follows that the deduction of 8 per cent., which is made for the benefit of horse-breeding, agriculture and the poor of France, has brought an increase of 890,368 francs (£35,612)!

If the same ratio of increased receipts is maintained through next year’s racing, the Societé des Courses alone will secure as its share of the profit about one million two hundred thousand francs! Stubborn facts these, which even the most inveterate Radical voter may take to heart in choosing his candidate for whom to vote, although for this election at least all votes will have been cast ere this article is published. If it were possible to gauge the probable receipts in the United Kingdom of the Totaliser as compared with France, we believe that the figures would considerably exceed those of France, seeing that the stakes annually run for in the United Kingdom, including steeplechasing and hurdle-racing, amount to not far short of a million pounds, and that race-meetings in this country are more widely distributed than in France. I am below the mark in calculating that at least ten times the stakes are made in bets, from which the deduction of 8 per cent, would produce a sum of eight hundred thousand a year.

What would the poor, the sick and the honest unemployed give for a dole out of this fund?

What would oppressed agriculture, unendowed horse-breeding, or the poor Royal Agricultural Society, say to the chance of a dip into this lucky bag? In almost every other country besides our own where racing flourishes, such an opportunity of effecting an economic reform, without increasing taxation, or interfering with vested interests, has been hailed with delight. In fact, we stand alone as a civilised nation in our abstention from its adoption, yet we have not, as it would seem, the motive power. If our conscientious objectors could but be made to see that by its adoption the worst features of our gambling pursuits would be checked, if not abolished, and that true sport in all its branches would thrive under its _ægis_, perhaps our legislature would throw no obstacles in its way. Perhaps then our Jockey Club, always so slow to lead the way, would throw off their _vis inertia_ and become its disciples?

Perhaps, however, this important question may remain buried in the lap of the future, unless public attention is called to it ever and again with increasing vehemence, and we are able to see more clearly the bane of our insular position, and the false pride which blinds and prejudices us.

I have had the opportunity of discussing this question with many racing men, and with scarcely an exception they have brought no arguments forward antagonistic to it, the majority indeed being its advocates; yet there comes the reiterated cry from those who call themselves practical men: “My dear fellow; how are you going to act about it! What chance is there of obtaining sanction from the legislature?”

Supposing I were to suggest the similitude of the bye-gone Welsh remedy, which in its result swept away the multiplication of turnpikes in South Wales some seventy years ago, which materially hindered the traffic between Wales and England. These Welshmen donned the nightdresses of women, calling themselves daughters of Rebecca, who was “not afraid to meet her enemies in the Gate,” and on swift cobs they swooped down at night on all the gates, smashing and burning them. Neither the police nor military could catch one of them, and very soon it began to dawn on the Government that a good reason underlaid this lawlessness. A Royal Commission was appointed, which was the means of an Act of Parliament being passed which swept away the objectionable gates and placed the roads under Government supervision, and they then became the best in the Kingdom.

And now to apply the simile. The legislature has decided by the Kempton Park case that a racecourse is not such a public place as stated in the last Betting Act, where betting can be prohibited. Why, therefore, should not the Totalizer be erected there, and betting by such means be allowed just as much and as legally as it is now carried on by bookmakers. This cannot, to my thinking, be considered as a lottery, pure and simple, because it does not depend upon your merely drawing out the lucky number. You have all the prowess of the horses and the skill of their riders weighing in the balance, and you stand in exactly the same position as the man that speculates in stocks, or insures his risks. Why not, therefore, erect the Totaliser on some enclosures on our racecourses? and even should they prove targets for the attack of the police, or possibly the bookmakers, at starting, I believe that ultimately, sooner indeed than later, their case will prevail, and then the greatest and most wholesome reform in racing will take effect. It will then be time for my critics to exclaim, “What next?”

As regards hunting, I have only to appeal to your correspondent J. J. D. J.’s article in your magazine of last month, “Is Hunting Doomed?” to show that we cannot hope to see it carried on in many countries in the same haphazard way as of old. Despite the fact that its devotees are as keen and as good as ever, its facilities are narrowed year by year, and its difficulties multiplied. Oh, that it were not so, for as your readers, especially your elder readers, must know, in “Borderer’s” heart as a true sport, where gain or loss has no part, hunting stands alone as the best, most ennobling, and manliest sport that we can enjoy. Cosmopolitan also it has hitherto been. How long it will remain so we dread to contemplate. That also lies in the lap of the future.

When the what next of shooting is considered, I confess to being completely carried off my legs. Gunners have of late increased so rapidly in numbers and methods, that we know not where we may not be within the next few years, looking at the fact that circumstances are annually lending themselves to the extension of game preserving, and that the _nouveaux riches_ can so easily indulge in this taste, which requires little learning, and short practice. Its aids to introduction into Society; its excuses for hospitality; its Royal patronage—all bring it immeasurably to the front; and when we read, as we did last month, of over 8,000 pheasants being slaughtered in three days at Vater Priory, we wonder what are the probabilities, or possibilities, or the future of shooting. Truly they can only be measured by the depth of the purse. All else can be thrown in.

I see that the Sporting League have issued a manifesto, warning sportsmen of dreadful things which the change in the Government is likely to bring about. Lord Daney’s Betting Bill is to be revived in its worst phases, and the sporting correspondent of _Truth_ vouchsafes the opinion that he will see the sun and the moon drop from the sky before ready money betting will be legalised! This latter declaration fills me with hope, knowing, as we do, how often these truthful prophecies turn out to be fallacious!

Nor do I set much value on the fears of the Sporting League, because, if the _vox populi_ is tested, as we are given to understand that it will be under Radical dominion, the betting question is much more likely to take a wider range, and peer and peasant alike will have equal rights of investing their money under perfect security on racecourses without let or hindrance. This can only be accomplished by means of the Totaliser, and working men will soon come to know that the usages of our Colonies and other neighbouring countries to their own have come to appreciate the benefits that it confers on them, and thus they will demand a vote in its favour at home.

It will take me a long time to believe that the faddists and the working men are destined to lie down together in perfect peace. Their ideas and methods are so utterly opposed. Indeed, my faith in the coming about of this great reform rests in “the tail wagging the head,” and that if the Jockey Club are to be stirred up, and the middle classes moved to action, it will be done by the progressive shoulder-to-shoulder pressure of the people, when once they appreciate the position, and realise the advantages to be gained, of which no small share will fall to their lot.

Thus perhaps the answer to “What Next?” will ring out.

BORDERER.

Foxhounds.

THE SIRES OF THE DAY.

There will always be a certain amount of controversy in regard to the choice of sires. Some people are bigoted enough still in the belief that good looks and a level formation have nothing to do with the success of hound-breeding, and that attention only should be paid to abilities in the hunting field. If this had been the dictum of the Dukes of Rutland and Beaufort, or of Lord Henry Bentinck, or Mr. G. S. Foljambe, the breed would have well-nigh died out; but the great masters would have necks and shoulders, intelligent heads, deep ribs, straightness in fore-leg, and the round, cat-like foot. There is everything to charm one in the well-bred foxhound, and is there anything like him? The Peterborough Shows have done good in bringing the best-looking together, and in giving opportunities for seeing the best. There has been everything to prove that the best-looking are generally the greatest; they are so in nineteen cases out of twenty, and as they are picked for appearances as puppies, there should be nothing to offend the eye at all in any well-regulated pack. At Belvoir a moderate-looking one even cannot be seen. They are all beautiful hounds, and the difficulty is to find fault. This is the general high standard of the country, and with masters of hounds in great numbers who will have perfect hounds in and out of kennel, the conclusion must be arrived at that there is no other breed of animal so well looked after. The winners of the Champion Prizes at Peterborough during the last twenty years have been very great as sires. What a deal of good can be traced now to the Fitzwilliam Selim, and what a magnificent hound he was; and then there was the Warwickshire Hermit and Harper, the Oakley Rhymer, the Pytchley Paradox and Potentate, the Craven Vagabond, the Puckeridge Wellington, the Cleveland Galopin, and not to forget also the Quorn Alfred, the champion of his time, as did not Tom Firr lead him back a winner? There have been lots besides as either champions or winners in the couples of unentered ones, such as the Dumfriesshire Resolute, who has replenished half the Scotch kennels with good hounds, and the Pytchley Marquis, who stood in the ring with Resolute for the Single Puppy Cup, when the judges, Lord Enniskillen and Mr. Austin Mackenzie, eyed the couple for five minutes before they could decide that the Pytchley young one was a shade the better. Never have two young champions done more for the cause of sport, as to ask concerning all the good that has been done by Marquis is to set John Isaac on the pinnacle of excitement.

[PUCKERIDGE.]
COLONIST (1903). CARDINAL (1902).
[By Chancellor—Sarah.] [By Chancellor—Dauntless.]
]

Belvoir has never shown at Peterborough or any other show. Frank Gillard used graciously to say that it was charity to give other people a chance; but anyway, the ducal kennel has always had plenty of good mention at Peterborough, as a great many winners have been by its sires; and it has become a practice also amongst far distant masters of hounds to visit Belvoir on the day after the show, and thus to extend their insight amongst all exquisites of the foxhound family. It is just thirty years ago (1876) since Belvoir Weathergage was entered, and what an enormous amount of good has come from this single hound. At home he was the sire of Gambler and Gameboy, besides others of lesser note; and for other packs there was the Brocklesby Weathergage, the Fitzwilliam Weathergage, the Grafton Why Not, the Southwold Freeman, and the Warwickshire Why Not, all very noted hounds. One can scarcely say how many more famous sons of Weathergage there were, but just as he was spoken of by Frank Gillard as the best hound he ever hunted, Mr. Rawnsley, of the Southwold, says the same of his son Freeman, whilst very similar in character must have been the Grafton Why Not. In the next generation the excellence was again well continued; as where have better hounds been seen than the sons of Gambler, with Nominal and Gordon at home, and Lord Middleton’s Grimthorpe and Grasper, Mr. Austin Mackenzie’s Rallywood, Lord Galway’s Gambler, and the Grafton General and Gorgon. Gameboy, brother to Gambler, brought more kudos into the famous line, as he was the sire of the Holderness Gaffer, sire of their Steadfast, and the latter has been very useful in many packs. The line has apparently got stronger in years and generations, as from Watchman, son of Nominal, comes Dexter, a great sire certainly during the last six or seven years, and his son Stormer is the most fashionable, if not the greatest, of the day.

Belvoir Stormer (1899) is a very grand hound of the Gambler type, but a bit on the big side, good twenty-four inches, but there is all the quality in him of the Belvoir hound, and he has beautiful legs and feet. I make him out to have as much or more Osbaldeston Furrier blood in him than in any other to be found in the Stud-book. It came in through Weathergage, of course, back to Senator, and he got it through his dam Destitute, by Sir Richard Sutton’s Dryden, by Lord Henry Bentinck’s Contest. But then there was so much Senator blood in Gratitude, the dam of Gambler, and again in Needy, the dam of Nominal, as she was by Syntax, son of the Grafton Silence, son of Statesman by Senator, by the Oakley Sportsman, her dam Needless by Contest, out of Novelty, by Senator. The success of Stormer for other packs than his own has been almost extraordinary, and this can be seen in _Baily’s Directory_, giving the names and the pedigrees of the prize puppies at the various kennel puppy shows. They were first in the Quorn, Tynedale, Duke of Buccleuch’s (in bitches), Pytchley (in bitches), Lord Middleton’s (in bitches), and second in the North Staffordshire (dogs), the latter a remarkable puppy called General (a present as a whelp from Mr. R. Corbett, of the South Cheshire, as he would persistently join the pack when at walk, and hunt like an old one before he was entered).

It may be thought that there was more honour attached to Stormer in his earlier days, as the sire of the Atherstone Struggler and Streamer; of Lord Bathurst’s Stentor, unfortunately dead, when he promised to be one of the pillars of the family, as besides being the best puppy of his year at Peterborough, he got some very good stock, as seen by the puppy shows. Then there is Lord Yarborough’s Harbinger, exceedingly good looking, and so good in his work as to have been used in his second season; and some others in various kennels thought very highly of. Stormer, though, was in no degree more useful or popular than his sire Dexter, whose son, Daystar, was supposed to have been the best-looking hound bred at Belvoir since Gambler, but he was unfortunately killed by a kick in the hunting field. Dasher, another son of Dexter, met with a similar fate. Both these hounds got beautiful stock. But besides Stormer, there was another son of Dexter of the same age in Handel, almost more bloodlike in outline than the other, and as the sire of the Warwickshire Traveller to be held much in esteem. Both Stormer and Handel are still in orders at Belvoir. Lord Middleton has a great opinion of his own Dexter by the old Belvoir hound, and he has used him freely. Some very good sorts are brought in through the Birdsall Dexter, as his dam Woodbine was by the Grafton Woodman, so on both sides accounting for his excellence in the field. There is really a plentitude of the Belvoir Dexter and Stormer blood throughout the country, as through the former’s son, Dasher, again comes in the Rufford Furrier, with every promise to become a great sire; and there was a young hound in the Bicester kennels last year called Deemster, by Dasher, out of a beautiful bitch called Bravery, that looked like making a name if he has gone on all right.

If a breeder of hounds commenced his operations from the Belvoir Weathergage (1876), there are probably six distinct lines to work upon, or most certainly four, and he need hardly go further afield for blood, but cross from one to the other, just as old Mr. Parry used to do with his Pilgrims and Rummagers, and Mr. G. S. Foljambe did from the brothers Harbinger and Herald. The subsequent occupants of their kennel benches were not too nearly bred, five generations off was old Parry’s plan; but still, they were all blood relations. To speak with any certainty I should take the four lines from the brothers Gambler and Gameboy, and the two others from the Grafton Whynot (1882) and the Southwold Freeman (1885). The Gamblers I have pretty well referred to above, but his brother, Gameboy, was almost as important as the sire of the Holderness Gaffer, sire of their Steadfast, and of Mr. Austin Mackenzie’s Guider and Gambler. Of these Gaffer occupies an important page in the “Foxhound Kennel Stud Book,” as he was the sire of the Warwickshire Sailor, the sire of the Brocklesby Wrangler. Steadfast, again, was the sire of two very good stud-hounds of the present day, namely, Lord Harrington’s Sultan and Salisbury (brothers). The Grafton Whynot was in no degree less important than any of the above, as he was the sire of Workman, sire of Wonder, sire of Woodman, whose good ones throughout the country have been almost legion, to include the Craven or Old Berks Woodman, the Vale of White Horse Worcester, the Grafton Whynot (of 1897), the Puckeridge Chancellor (1898), and the Badminton Whipster (in orders five years). In my most recent travels I have heard of nothing but praise of the Grafton Woodman’s stock, splendid for nose, hard workers, demons on a dying fox, and always dependable for season after season. The old dog was thirteen years old before he was put away last spring, and I shall always regret not seeing him, as, to judge him from every point, he must have belonged to the very greatest. His son, Worcester, in Mr. Butt Miller’s kennels, enjoys the same reputation so closely associated with his sire, as there could be no better foxhound on the line of a fox, and he has got good ones right and left for Lord Bathurst’s, the Duke of Beaufort’s, the Craven, the Morpeth, and other packs all having representatives by him, besides a big following at home. The Craven regretted that their litter by him of three couples were all bitches, as they were so good, and a dog to have been a sire would have been all too acceptable. However, Lord Bathurst has got two very good sons of Worcester in Weathergage and Wellington, who trace back on their dam’s side also to some very telling blood from Mr. Austin Mackenzie’s Dexter, Belvoir Weathergage again, Warwickshire Harper, and Lord Coventry’s Rambler. Cooper thought last year that Weathergage might be the best foxhound in England. He should not be missed, therefore, by hound-breeders. Mr. Butt Miller has naturally several young Worcester sires, the brothers Bandit and Barrister striking me as about the best when I saw them. It is noticeable that the Morpeth’s second prize puppy, Whynot, was a son of Worcester’s.

The Bicester have had reason to uphold the Grafton Woodman line, as some of their best are by Whynot, notably a grand third-season dog called Wrangler, who gave one the impression of becoming a stud-hound of note some day. There are two or three of Mr. Heywood Lonsdale’s worth taking a good journey to see, Conqueror being one, and he is quite one of Lord Chesham’s breeding, going back into the Blankney sorts. The second prize puppy of the kennel last year was by Conqueror.

To turn again, though, to the Grafton Whynot. I saw him last May, with nine seasons marked against him, and the rumour was that he had been promised to Squire Drake, who might breed a pack again for the Old Berks through this son of Woodman alone, if he could keep the old fellow in useful orders long enough. He got rare stock for the Grafton, and so did his son, Wiseacre, who died too prematurely; whilst another son called Waggoner—still available, I expect—had the reputation of being the hardest driver in the pack. Of the Grafton dogs, though, I liked President the best, and he was out of a Woodman bitch. The next share of usefulness to be credited to Woodman may come from the Puckeridge, as Mr. Edward Barclay bred from him in 1897 with a bitch that went back to old Mr. Parry’s sorts, through Lord Portsmouth’s Gainer, a very noted worker, as I well remember, and got by Mr. Parry’s Gulliver far back in the sixties. Gainer was so good that the late Lord Galway favoured him extensively, entering three couples by him from four litters in 1873. Mr. Lane Fox was one of his patrons, and also Belvoir; but for the latter great kennel he did not get them very good about the knees.

The result of Mr. Barclay’s patronage to the Grafton Wonder, was Chancellor, and he was like all the rest of them, quite A1 in his work, and going on into his eighth season, at any rate. He has been bred from for the last five years with bitches mostly of Belvoir extraction, and in the Puckeridge list of 1904 there were eight couples by him in different years; all very good, so Mr. Barclay and his late huntsman, Jem Cockayne, have stated; but the best of all was Cardinal, out of Dauntless, by Belvoir Watchman, son of Nominal, son of Gambler, son of Weathergage, her dam Dahlia by Shamrock, son of Dashwood by Founder, belonging to the Fallible family. A splendidly bred hound, therefore, is the Puckeridge Cardinal, entered in 1902, so now just in his prime. He is a fine big hound also, and so good in his work as to have left a very strong impression upon Jem Cockayne, who was never happy unless Mr. Barclay kept breeding from him heavily, and about the first thing he did when engaged for the North Warwickshire was to get Mr. Arkwright to do the same. He told me he should like to have a kennel full of Cardinals, and really the puppy boxes at Brent Pelham last year were full of them. Another by Chancellor in the Puckeridge Kennel is Colonist, a year younger than Cardinal, but with almost as great a reputation, and bred very like his companion, as he was out of Sarah, by Belvoir Dashwood. Colonist took second prize as a puppy at Peterborough.

Yet another line from the ever-telling Belvoir Weathergage may be traced from the Southwold Freeman, who was thought by Mr. Rawnsley to have been the best hound he ever hunted in his life, and for the last twenty years this gentleman has shown a strong determination to hold the line. He had five and a half couples by him before the good hound was a five-year-old, and six couples and a half were entered afterwards from numerous litters. The same line can be traced through several channels at the present time, and to Frantic, sister to Freeman. Much of his has been crossed again to the Grafton Woodman, as Workable, a well-known Southwold bitch, has been a great treasure in the field and as a breeder of good ones; and Valliant, possibly Mr. Rawnsley’s best sire, is by the Brocklesby Wrangler, one of the sorts, as I have mentioned in this paper, out of a Freeman-bred bitch. To trace the branches from the Belvoir Weathergage, there is everything, then, to show that the merit has been almost inexhaustible, and that, if anything, it has increased in intensity by intercrossing: the Grafton Wonder, with the Gambler line, as instanced in the case of the Puckeridge Cardinal, and the Freemans, as shown by the Brocklesby Wrangler and Vanity, in their production of the Southwold Valliant; and again in the case of Worcester breeding his best from Nominal- or Gambler-bred bitches. It is a problem of breeding, and all compassed in thirty years. I can hardly believe it to be so long ago, looking back to 1873, when chatting to Frank Gillard, on the old flags at Belvoir, we admired Warrior, the crack of the kennel, as I then opined, and how Gillard told me that the beautiful blood-like hound before us was rather the result of an experiment. He hardly dared to breed from Wonder, on account of his swine chap, but he was tempted by his beautiful voice, and his union with Susan produced a perfect litter, to comprise Woodman, Warrior, Woeful, Welcome and Whimsey, all good-looking enough to be put on, and useful in producing subsequent Belvoir beauties; but the star of all was Warrior, the sire of Weathergage. Nearly all the best foxhound sires of the day trace to the latter, and it would be no very bad policy to breed from the older ones of their generation as long as they can be found—Belvoir Stormer, Handel, Grafton Why Not, Cricklade Worcester, Brocklesby Wrangler and Badminton Dexter—but still to remember that there is a younger generation, or even two, that is quite as good, and maybe safer, when enumerating the sires of the day, as the Warwickshire Traveller, the Belvoir Vaulter and Royal, the Atherstone Struggler and Streamer, the Grafton Waggoner and President, the Birdsall Dexter, the Puckeridge Cardinal, the Bicester Wrangler, the Fitzwilliam Harper, the Southwold Valliant, the Cricklade Bandit and the Cirencester Weathergage.

G. S. LOWE.

Hunt “Runners.”
III.
“HARRY” AND SELLARS.

No better tribute to the scope of the runner’s usefulness could be put forth than the fact that he is running with us to-day. As might be expected, quite a little band of scarlet-coated runners live within easy reach of Melton and Oakham, a privileged area in which sport with one or other of the four Leicestershire packs may be seen on six days of the week. Theirs is a hard life at best, and were they not thoroughly endued with the spirit for sport, they could not for long follow their calling; but the runner of the rising generation has not the enthusiasm of a former generation. As for reminiscences, his begin and end with the week’s sport; as for the future, he hopes the going will not be any heavier in the coming week.

LEICESTERSHIRE RUNNERS.
]

The journey to covert through the characteristic Leicestershire gates, across grass fields and cow pastures, is the runner’s opportunity to be useful; at the meet the possession by the great majority of hunting men of second horsemen render his services less in demand than they used to be. The hunt runner is not the character he was in our forefathers’ day; but there are still uses for him in certain districts. At the present time both the Quorn and the Cottesmore have recognised men to lead their terriers, and perform other functions. With the Belvoir a runner may be seen joining the hunt on a Leicestershire day, but he is more or less “on his own”; for if a terrier is out it is running with the pack or led by a second horseman. So far as the Lincolnshire side of the Belvoir country is concerned, it is no country for runners; the area traversed is very wide, and the going is much too heavy to let a man on foot keep in touch with a well-mounted hunt. The same applies to the Blankney country, where we never remember seeing a runner on any occasion; the Blankney Hunt terrier is always carried by one of the second horsemen, slung in a game-bag so that he can be brought on the scene at the shortest notice.

When Lord Lonsdale instituted his memorable reign as master of the Quorn in 1893, he organised every detail of his staff, from Tom Firr in leathers and swan-necked spurs, to the hunt runners carrying the very latest pattern of bolting apparatus. No commander-in-chief of an army ever entered on a plan of campaign better found in every department, and the result was entirely satisfactory for sport, good runs, with a fox at the finish, being the order of things. On the opening day of that season at Kirby Gate, we had the good fortune to be one of the field mounted by Mr. James Hornsby, who then lived at Stapleford Park. Amongst the crowd at the meet, the figure of Harry the runner came in for general observation. He turned out in scarlet coat of a texture not too heavy; white flannel knickerbockers, black stockings, and a well-groomed hunting cap. He led a couple of varminty wire-haired terriers of the celebrated Lonsdale breed, and strapped to his back was a patent sapper’s spade with pick, made of the best steel. Thus equipped, Harry appears in one of the Quorn series of hunt pictures by Major Giles, which depicts hounds marking to ground in one of the characteristic hills typical of the woodland side of Leicestershire. With Harry was another runner, a strong athletic young fellow with a heavy moustache, who carried a bolting apparatus in the shape of thirty-five feet of piping with a brush at the end of it, not unlike that used by chimney-sweeps. Known to the hunt department as Sunny Marlow, he has always worked with Harry.

On the occasion before us, contrary to custom, the first draw was Welby Fishponds, instead of Gartree Hill, and we were marshalled by the field master, Mr. Lancelot Lowther, a field away whilst hounds drew covert. At last the silver whistles proclaimed hounds away on the back of a fox, and the cavalcade swept down the hillside. After a hunt of about an hour, with a somewhat catchy scent, and a blind line of country that laid the field out like ninepins, hounds marked to ground over a drain between Old Dalby Wood and Sixhills. Before we had been there five minutes, Harry was on the scene with his apparatus and terriers. Unstrapping the spade, he took off his coat, and putting his back into the work, he cut the sods out in double quick time. It was a characteristic shallow Leicestershire drain, running across a grass field, and crowning down into it, a terrier was put in at the far end. This moved the fox, and Alfred Earp, the whipper-in, was ready to seize him by the brush as he tried to slip further up. Wriggling like an eel at arm’s length, he was flung adrift, and the pack coursing the length of a field, rolled him over—the first fox of the season.

An official Quorn runner must be a good hand with the spade, for he gets many a rough day’s work in the off season digging out badgers, which abound in high Leicestershire. As most people know, badgers are very untidy neighbours for a fox covert, working out the earths so that stopping out becomes an increased difficulty. Very often digging out a badger earth may mean a week or two of solid work, for badgers go very deep, often among the roots of trees. As a rule the soil is light and sandy, working well; where badgers have been imported into clay soil districts to work out earths for foxes, they have at first opportunity migrated to districts where the digging suited them better. This last autumn one of the hunt runners told us that after some very hard digging they got hold of three badgers whose combined weight turned the scale at a hundredweight, the largest measuring 3 ft. 10 in. in length. The badgers are killed, and their skins sent in to the Master of the Hunt as trophies.