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MR. PUNCH IN THE HUNTING FIELD

PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR

Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON

Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the
cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic
draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its
beginning in 1841 to the present day.

[Illustration]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: DISILLUSIONED

Awful predicament of young Fitz-Brown, who, having undertaken to see a
young lady safely home after a day with the Seaborough Harriers, has
lost his way, and has climbed up what he takes to be a sign-post.]

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH IN THE HUNTING FIELD

AS PICTURED BY JOHN LEECH, CHARLES KEENE, PHIL MAY, RANDOLPH CALDECOTT,
L. RAVEN-HILL, G. D. ARMOUR, G. H. JALLAND, ARTHUR HOPKINS,
REGINALD CLEAVER, CECIL ALDIN, TOM BROWNE, W. L. HODGSON AND OTHERS.

[Illustration]

_WITH 173 ILLUSTRATIONS_

PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"

THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.

       *       *       *       *       *

PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR

_Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_

  LIFE IN LONDON
  COUNTRY LIFE
  IN THE HIGHLANDS
  SCOTTISH HUMOUR
  IRISH HUMOUR
  COCKNEY HUMOUR
  IN SOCIETY
  AFTER DINNER STORIES
  IN BOHEMIA
  AT THE PLAY
  MR. PUNCH AT HOME
  ON THE CONTINONG
  RAILWAY BOOK
  AT THE SEASIDE
  MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
  IN THE HUNTING FIELD
  MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
  WITH ROD AND GUN
  MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
  BOOK OF SPORTS
  GOLF STORIES
  IN WIG AND GOWN
  ON THE WARPATH
  BOOK OF LOVE
  WITH THE CHILDREN

       *       *       *       *       *

EDITOR'S NOTE

[Illustration]

From his earliest days MR. PUNCH has been an enthusiast for the Hunting
Field. But in this he has only been the faithful recorder of the manners
of his countrymen, as there is no sport more redolent of "Merrie
England" than that of the Horse and Hound. At no time in MR. PUNCH'S
history has he been without an artist who has specialised in the humours
of the hunt. First it was the inimitable Leech, some of whose drawings
find a place in the present collection, and then the mantle of the
sporting artist would seem to have descended to feminine shoulders, as
Miss Bowers (Mrs. Bowers-Edwards) wore it for some ten years after 1866.
That lady is also represented in the present work, at pages 49 and 111.
Later came Mr. G. H. Jalland, many of whose drawings we have chosen for
inclusion here. Perhaps the most popular of his hunting jokes was that
of the Frenchman exclaiming, "Stop ze chasse! I tomble, I faloff! _Stop
ze fox!!!_" (see page 141). To-day, of course, it is Mr. G. D. Armour
whose pencil is devoted chiefly to illustrating the humorous side of
hunting; but now, as formerly, most of the eminent artists whose work
lies usually in other fields, delight at times to find a subject
associated with the hunt. Thus we are able to present examples of Mr.
Cecil Aldin and Mr. Raven-Hill in sportive mood, while such celebrities
of the past as Randolph Caldecott and Phil May are here drawn upon for
the enriching of this, the first book of hunting humour compiled from
the abundant chronicles of MR. PUNCH.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 'ARRY OUT WITH THE 'OUNDS]

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH IN THE HUNTING FIELD

THE HUNTING SEASON

(_By Jorrocks Junior_)

    The season for hunting I see has begun,
    So adieu for a time to my rod and my gun;
    And ho! for the fox, be he wild or in bag,
    As I follow the chase on my high-mettled nag.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "WEATHER PERMITTING,"--MR. PUNCH DRIVES TO THE FIRST
MEET.]

       *       *       *       *       *

    I call him high-mettled, but still I must state,
    He hasn't a habit I always did hate,
    He doesn't walk sideways, like some "gees" you meet,
    Who go slantindicularly down the street.

    He's steady and well broken in, for, of course,
    I can't risk my life on an unbroken horse;
    You might tie a torpedo or two on behind,
    And though they exploded that horse wouldn't mind.

    My strong point is costume, and oft I confess
    I've admired my get-up in a sportsmanlike dress;
    Though, but for the finish their lustre confers,
    I would much rather be, I declare, without spurs.

    They look very well as to cover you ride,
    But I can't keep the things from the animal's side;
    And the mildest of "gees," I am telling no fibs,
    Will resent having liberties ta'en with his ribs.

    Then hie to the cover, the dogs are all there,
    And the horn of the hunter is heard on the air;
    I've a horn of my own, which in secret I stow,
    For, oddly enough, they don't like me to blow.

    We'll go round by that gate, my good sir, if you please,
    I'm one of your sportsmen who rides at his ease;
    And I don't care to trouble my courser to jump,
    For whenever he does I fall off in a lump.

    Then haste to the meet! The Old Berkeley shall find,
    If I don't go precisely as fast as the wind,
    If they'll give my Bucephalus time to take breath,
    We shall both of us, sometimes, be in at the death!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A LION IN THE PATH?

Oh dear no! Merely the "_first open day_" after a long frost, and a
tom-tit has been inconsiderate enough to fly suddenly out of the fence
on the way to covert!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE

_Unsympathetic Bystander._ "Taking 'im back to 'is cab, guv'nor?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HOW THE LAST RUN OF THE WOPSHIRE HOUNDS WAS SPOILT.]

       *       *       *       *       *

PROVERBS FOR THE TIMID HUNTSMAN

_Dressing_

There's no toe without a corn.

If the boot pinches--bear it.

_Breakfast_

A snack in time, saves nine.

Faint hunger never conquered tough beef-steak.

_Mounting_

You can't make a hunter out of a hired hack.

The nearer the ground the safer the seat.

_In the Field_

Take care of the hounds, but the fence may take care of itself.

Too many brooks spoil the sport.

One pair of spurs may bring a horse to the water, but twenty will not
make him jump.

It is the howl that shows the funk.

Fools break rails for wise men to go over.

Snobs and their saddles are soon parted.

_At Luncheon_

A flask in the hand is worth a cask in the vault.

Cut your sandwiches according to your stomach.

_Coming Home_

The nearer the home, the harder the seat.

_Bed-time_

It's a heavy sleep that has no turning.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: REALLY PLEASANT!

Six miles from home, horse dead lame, awfully tender feet, and horribly
tight boots.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "Now, if I jump it, I shall certainly fall off; and if I
dismount to open it, I shall never get on again."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: This is Jones, who thought to slip down by the rail early
in the morning, and have a gallop with the fox hounds. On looking out of
the window, he finds it is a clear frosty morning. He sees a small boy
sliding--actually sliding on the pavement opposite!! and--doesn't he
hate that boy--and doesn't he say it is a beastly climate!!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: NEW SPORTING DICTIONARY OF FAMILIAR LATIN PHRASES.

(1) Labour omnia vincit. (Labor overcomes everything.)]

[Illustration: (2) Ars est celare artem. "Après vous, mademoiselle!"]

[Illustration: (3) Exeunt Omnes. (They all go off.)]

       *       *       *       *       *

A GENUINE SPORTSWOMAN

_Mrs. Shodditon_ (_to Captain Forrard, on a cub-hunting morning_). "I do
hope you'll have good sport, and find plenty of foxes."

_Captain Forrard._ "Hope so. By the way, how is that beautiful collie of
yours that I admired so much?"

_Mrs. Shodditon._ "Oh! Fanny! poor dear! Our keeper shot it by mistake
for a fox!"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Short-sighted Party_ (_thrown earlier, after weary tramp,
thinks he sees mount on ploughed upland, and approaches bush
coaxingly_). "Whoa, my beauty! Steady, my gal, steady then," &c.]

[Illustration: _Same Short-sighted Party arrived at thornbush, discovers
error, and reflects_--"Five miles from station, perhaps
ten--fifty miles from town, missed express, missed dinner, lost mount,
wet through, getting dusk, and, by the way, where am I?"
    [_Left reflecting_.

]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Gorgeous Stranger._ "I say, Huntsman, would you mind
blowing your horn two or three times? I want my fellow, who has my
flask, to know where we are, don't you know!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

DIARY OF THE MODERN HUNT SECRETARY

     "Capping all non-subscribers is pretty generally resorted to, this
     season, not only in the shires, but also with provincial
     packs."--_Daily Press._]

_Monday._--Splendid gallop after non-subscriber. Spotted the quarry on
good-looking chestnut, whilst we were drawing big covert. Edged my horse
over in his direction, but non-subscriber very wary--think he must have
known my face as "collector of tolls." Retired again to far side of
spinney and disguised myself in pair of false whiskers, which I always
keep for these occasions. Craftily sidled up, and finally got within
speaking distance, under cover of the whiskers, which effectually masked
my battery. "Beg pardon, sir," I began, lifting my hat, "but I don't
think I have the pleasure of knowing your name as a subscri----" But he
was off like a shot. Went away over a nice line of country, all grass,
and a good sound take-off to most of the fences. Non-subscriber had got
away with about a three lengths lead of me, and that interval was fairly
maintained for the first mile and a half of the race. Then, felt most
annoyed to see that my quarry somewhat gained on me as we left the
pasture land and went across a holding piece of plough. Over a stiff
post and rails, and on again, across some light fallow, towards a big
dry ditch. The hunted one put his horse resolutely at it--must say he
rode very straight, but what _won't_ men do to avoid "parting?"--horse
jumped short and disappeared from view together with his rider. Next
moment I had also come a cropper at ditch, and rolled down on top of my
prey. "Excuse me," I said, taking out my pocket-book and struggling to
my knees in six inches of mud, "but when you rather abruptly started
away from covertside, I was just about to remark that I did not think
you were a subscriber, and that I should have much pleasure in taking
the customary 'cap'--thank you." And he paid up quite meekly. We agreed,
as we rode back together, in the direction in which we imagined hounds
to be, that even if they had got away with a good fox, the field would
not be likely to have had so smart a gallop as he and I had already
enjoyed. Lost my day's hunting, of course.

_Thursday._--Got away after another non-subscriber, led him over four
fields, after which he ran me out of sight. Lost my day's hunting again,
but was highly commended 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.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Gent_ (_who has just executed a double somersault and is
somewhat dazed_). "Now where the dickens has that horse gone to?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 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!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 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."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "Hup--yer beast!"]

[Illustration: "Hup!!--yer brute!"]

[Illustration: "Hup!!!--yer infernal, confounded ---- Hover!!!"]

[Illustration: And "Hover" it was!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 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!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _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!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

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!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE LANGUAGE OF SPORT.

"Where the----! What the----!! Who the----!!! Why the----!!!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 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!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Old Stubbles_ (_having pounded the swells_). "Aw--haw----!
laugh away, but who be the roight side o' the fence, masters?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 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.]

[Illustration: 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.]

       *       *       *       *       *

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!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: TROUBLES OF A WOULD-BE SPORTSMAN

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 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!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "WEEDS"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "'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!"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "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!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 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!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 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!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

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!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: '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!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 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!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "Duck, you fool! Duck!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

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]

[Footnote 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."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 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.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: 'ARRY ON 'ORSEBACK

_'Arry_ (_in extremities_). "Well, gi' _me_ a _bike_!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: CONVENIENCE OF A LIGHT-WEIGHT GROOM

_Miss Ethel._ "Now, sit tight this time, Charles. How could you be so
stupid as to let him go?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Voice from the ditch._ "Don't jump here!"

_Irish Huntsman._ "And what would ye be after down there?
Wather-cresses?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

RATHER

"Is fox-hunting dangerous?" asks one of our daily papers. A fox informs
us that it has its risks.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Rough Rider_ (_to old Creeper, who will not let his
horse jump_). "Now then, gov'nor, if you are quite sure you can't get
under it, perhaps you'll let me 'ave a turn!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

PROOF POSITIVE

_Podson_ (_lately returned from abroad_). "Well, I hear you've been
having a capital season, Thruster."

_Thruster._ "Oh, rippin'! Why, I've had both collar-bones broken, left
wrist sprained, and haven't got a sound horse left in my string!"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: INEXPRESSIBLE

_Master Jack_ (_son of M.F.H., much upset by hard weather_). "Go skating
with you! Not if I know it. May be all very well for you women and those
curate chaps--but we hunting men, by George!!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

BY THE COVERT SIDE

_Fred_ (_a notorious funk_). "Bai Jove! Jack, I'm afraid I've lost my
nerve this season!"

_Jack._ "Have you? Doosid sorry for the poor beggar who finds it!"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Elderly Sportsman._ "I wonder they don't have that place
stopped. Why, I remember running a fox to ground there twenty years ago!
Don't you?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THEORY AND PRACTICE; OR, WHY THE ENGAGEMENT WAS BROKEN
OFF

_Lady Di_ (_to Jack, whose vows of devotion have been interrupted by a
fox being hollered away_). "Oh, Jack, my hair's coming down! Do stop and
hold my horse. I won't be five minutes."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: AWFUL RESULT OF THE WAR!

_A Dream of Mr. Punch's Sporting Correspondent_

     ["Mr. Arthur Wilson, Master of the Holderness Hunt, has received an
     intimation from the War Office that, in consequence of the war with
     the Transvaal, ten of his horses will be required."--_Daily
     Paper._]

]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "NO FOLLOWERS ALLOWED"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: ROBBERY WITH VIOLENCE

_Lady_ (_who has just jumped on fallen Sportsman_). "I'm awfully sorry!
I hope we didn't hurt you?"

_Fallen Sportsman._ "Oh, I'm all right, thanks. But--er--do you mind
leaving me my hat?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

IN THE MIDLANDS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

APPROPRIATE TO THE WINTER SEASON

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Mr. Briggs's hunting cap comes home, but that is really a
thing Mrs. Briggs _can_ not, and _will_ not put up with!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Mr. Briggs goes out with the Brighton Harriers. He has a
capital day. The only drawback is, that he is obliged to lead his horse
_up_ hill to ease him--]

       * * *

[Illustration: and _down_ hill because he is afraid of going over his
head--so that he doesn't get quite so much horse exercise as he could
wish!]

       *       *       *       *       *

AT THE HUNT BALL

(_The Sad Complaint of a Man in Black_)

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MR. BRIGGS HAS ANOTHER DAY WITH THE HOUNDS

Mr. Briggs can't bear flying leaps, so he makes for a gap--which is
immediately filled by a frantic Protectionist, who is vowing that he
will pitchfork Mr. B. if he comes "galloperravering" over his
fences--danged if he doant!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A DOUBTFUL INFORMANT

_Miss Connie_ (_to Gent in brook_). "Could you tell me if there is a
bridge anywhere handy?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: NOT TO BE BEATEN

_Cissy._ "Why should they call the hare's tail the scut?"

_Bobby_ (_with a reputation as an authority to keep up_). "Oh--er--why
you see--oh, of course, because the hare scuttles, you know, when she is
hunted."]

       *       *       *       *       *

WHY HE WAITED

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE PLEASURES OF HUNTING

To get a toss in a snowdrift, and, while lying half-smothered, to be
sworn at for not shouting to warn the man following you.]

       *       *       *       *       *

SO CONSOLING

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: POSITIVELY OSTENTATIOUS

_Mr. Phunkstick_ (_quite put out_). "Talk about agricultural depression,
indeed! Don't believe in it! Never saw fences kept in such disgustingly
good order in my life!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

IRISH HUNTING TIPPLE

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: IN A SHOOTING COUNTRY

_Railway Porter_ (_who has been helping lady to mount_). "I hope you'll
'ave a good day, ma'am."

_Lady Diana._ "I just hope we'll find a fox."

_Porter_ (_innocently_). "Oh, that's all right, ma'am. The fox came down
by the last train!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: INSULT TO INJURY

_Fitz-Noodle's Harriers, after a capital run, have killed--a fox!_

_Incensed local M.F.H._ "Confound it, sir, you have killed one of my
foxes!"

_F. N._ "It's all right, old chap! You may kill one of my hares!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

HUNTING SONG

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

UNCOMMONLY KEEN

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: IN A BLIND DITCH

_Sportsman_ (_to friend, whom he has mounted on a raw four-year-old for
"a quiet morning's outing"_). "Bravo, Jack! Well done! That's just what
the clumsy beggar wanted. Teach him to look where he's going!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: DRY HUMOUR

"Be'n't ye comin' over for 'im, mister?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: WIREPROOF

Sir Harry Hardman, mounted on "Behemoth," created rather a stir at the
meet. He said he didn't care a hang for the barbed or any other kind of
wire.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A SKETCH FROM THE MIDLANDS

"Hulloa, old chap! Not hurt, I hope?"

"Oh, no, no! Just got off to have a look at the view."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Whip._ "Here, here! Hold hard! Come back!"

_Tommy_ (_home for the holidays_). "No jolly fear! You want to get first
start!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

"BUSINESS FIRST"

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

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

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

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

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

AN OMISSION BEST OMITTED

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: PUTTING IT NICELY

_Young Lady_ (_politely, to old Gentleman who is fiddling with gap_). "I
don't wish to hurry you, sir, but when you have quite finished your game
of spilikins I should like to come!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: TERPSICHOREAN

_Sportsman_ (_to Dancing Man, who has accepted a mount_). "Hold on
tight, sir, and she'll _waltz_ over with you."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Benevolent Stranger._ "Allow me, sir, to offer you a
drink!"

_Unfortunate Sportsman_ (_just out of brook_). "Thanks; but I've had a
drop too much already!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE MAGIC WORD

_Huntsman_ (_having run a fox to ground, to yokel_). "Run away down and
get some o' your fellows to come up with spades, will ye? Tell 'em we're
after hidden treasure!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A CAPITAL DODGE

Among his native banks Old Poddles takes a lot of beating. He says
there's nothing easier when you know how to negotiate 'em.]

       *       *       *       *       *

HUNTING EXTRAORDINARY

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

"You hunt, don't you?"

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

"I thought so," he continued.

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

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

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

This was the article:-

THOUGHTS ON HUNTING.

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

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

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MANNERS IN THE FIELD

Always be prepared to give the lead to a lady, even at some little
personal inconvenience.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE PLEASURES OF HUNTING

Having been cannoned and nearly brought down, to be asked if you are
trying the American seat.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HUNTING SKETCH

The Cast Shoe, or Late for the Meat.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A KINDLY VIEW OF IT

_First Rustic_ (_to Second Ditto_). "Oh, I say! Ain't he fond of his
horse!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _M.F.H._ "Hold hard! Hold hard, please!! Where _are_ you
going with that brute?"

_Diana_ (_plaintively_). "I wish I knew!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE LAST DAY OF HUNTING

(_Stanzas for the First of April_)

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

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "A-HUNTING WE WILL GO!"

_Lady._ "You're dropping your fish!"

_Irish Fish Hawker_ (_riding hard_). "Och, bad luck to thim! Niver
moind. Sure we're kapin' up wid the gentry!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: JUMPING POWDER

(_Mr. Twentystun having a nip on his way to covert_)

_Small Boy._ "Oh my, Billy, 'ere's a heighty-ton gun a chargin' of
'isself afore goin' into haction!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: DRAWN BLANK

_Huntsman._ "How is it you never have any foxes here now?"

_Keeper_ (_who has orders to shoot them_). "Pheasants have eat 'em all!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE ADVANTAGE OF EDUCATION

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Irate Non-sporting Farmer._ "Hi! you there! What the
Duce do you mean by riding over my wheat!"

_'Arry._ "'Ere, I say! What are yer givin' us? _Wheat!_ Why, it's only
bloomin' _mud!_"]

       *       *       *       *       *

"FOOT AND MOUTH" TROUBLE

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

       *       *       *       *       *

DECIDEDLY NOT

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

UNGRATEFUL

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: APT

_Brown_ (_helping lady out of water_). "'Pon my word, Miss Smith, you
remind me exactly of What's-her-name rising from the What-you-call!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A CHECK

_M.F.H._ (_riding up to old Rustic, with the intention of asking him if he
has seen the lost fox_). "How long have you been working here, master?"

_Old Rustic_ (_not seeing the point_). "Nigh upon sixty year, mister!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "WHAT'S IN A NAME?"

_Whip._ "_Wisdom!_ Get away there!! _Wisdom!! Wisdom!!!_ Ugh!--you
always were the biggest fool in the pack!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SOMETHING THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY

_Mrs. Brown_ (_being helped out of a brook by the gallant Captain, who has
also succeeded in catching her horse_). "Oh, Captain Robinson! thank you
_so_ much!"

_Gallant, but somewhat flurried, Captain._ "Not at all--don't mention
it." (_Wishing to add something excessively polite and appropriate._)
"Only hope I may soon have another opportunity of doing the same again
for you."]

       *       *       *       *       *

REASSURING

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "THE TIP OF THE MORNING TO YOU!"

_First Whip thanks him, and hums to himself,_ "When other tips, and
t'other parts, Then he remembers _me!_"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Giles_ (_indicating Sportsman on excitable horse, waiting
his turn_). "Bless us all, Tumas, if that un beant a goin' to try it
back'ards!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: WITH THE HARDUP HARRIERS

_Dismounted Huntsman_ (_to his mount_). "Whoa, you old brute! To think I
went and spared yer from the biler only last week! You hungrateful old
'idebound 'umbug!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

'INTS ON 'UNTING, BY 'ARRY

[Illustration: (1) ON CLOTHES.--"Why not employ local talent? Saves half
the money, and no one can tell the difference."]

[Illustration: (2) If the thong of your whip gets under your horse's
tail, just try to pull it out!]

[Illustration: (3) Don't buy a horse because he is described as being
"Well known with the ---- Hounds." It might be true.]

[Illustration: (4) If at a meet your horse should get a bit out of hand,
just run him up against some one.]

[Illustration: (5) If opening a gate for the huntsman, don't fall into
the middle of the pack!]

[Illustration: (6) Sit well back at your fences!]

[Illustration: (7) Look before you leap.]

[Illustration: (8) If you lose your horse, just tell the huntsman to
catch it for you.]

       *       *       *       *       *

EXCUSABLE

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

ANXIOUS TO SELL

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

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

_Dealer._ "Make it _shillings_."

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: NOT A LADIES' DAY

_Miss Scramble._ "Now, Charles, give me one more long hair-pin, and I
shall do."]

       *       *       *       *       *

CASUAL

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

AT OUR OPENING MEET

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

MUST BE HUNGRY

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

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE RETORT COURTEOUS

(_A Reminiscence of the past Harrier Season_)

_Major Topknot, M.H._ (_to butcher's boy_). "Hi! Hulloah! Have you seen my
hare?"

_Butcher's Boy._ "Ga-a-rn! 'Ave you seen my whiskers?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

DISINTERESTED KINDNESS

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

ENCOURAGING

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: NUNC AUT NUNQUAM

_Voice from bottom of ditch._ "Hold hard a minute! My money has slipped
out of my pockets, and it's all down here somewhere!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A REFORMED CHARACTER

_John._ "Goin' to give up 'untin'! Deary! deary! An' 'ow's that,
missie?"

_Little Miss Di._ "Well, you see, John, I find my cousin Charlie, who is
going to be a curate, does not approve of hunting women, so I intend to
be a district visitor instead!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MOTTOES; OR, "WHO'S WHO?"

Mrs. Prettyphat. Family Motto--"_Medici jussu_."]

       *       *       *       *       *

SOMETHING LIKE A CHARACTER

_Huntsman_ (_on being introduced to future wife of M.F.H._). "Proud to
make your acquaintance, miss! Known the Capting, miss, for nigh on ten
seasons, and never saw 'im turn 'is 'ead from hanything as was jumpable!
Knows a 'oss and knows a 'ound! Can ride one and 'unt t'other; and if
that ain't as much as can be looked for in a 'usband, miss, why, I'll be
jiggered!"

       *       *       *       *       *

A LIBERAL ALLOWANCE

_Huntsman_ (_who has just drawn Mr. Van Wyck's coverts blank_). "Rather
short of cubs, I'm afraid, sir!"

_Mr. Van Wyck_ (_who has very recently acquired his country seat_). "Most
extraordinary! Can't understand it at all! Why, I told my keeper to
order a dozen only last week!"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: STORIES WITHOUT WORDS

How "the second horseman" went home.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Scene--_As above._ Time--_Mid-day._ Sport--_None up to
now._

_Stout Party_ (_about to leave_). "Most extr'ordinary thing. Whenever I go
home, they always have a rattling good run."

_Candid Friend._ "Then, for goodness' sake, _go home at once!_"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MOST EXTRAORDINARY

_Dismounted Sportsman._ "Now, how the deuce did my hat manage to get up
there?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

STRAIGHT

_Huntsman_ (_to Boy, who is riding his second horse_). "Hi, there! What
the doose are yer doin' of with that second 'oss?"

_Boy_ (_Irish, and only just come to the Hunt stables from a Racing
Establishment_). "Arrah thin, if oi roides oi roides to win! and divil a
second is he goin' to be at all, at all!!"

       *       *       *       *       *

FORBEARANCE

_Member of Hunt_ (_to Farmer_). "I wouldn't ride over those seeds if I
were you. They belong to a disagreeable sort of fellow, who might make a
fuss about it."

_Farmer._ "Well, sir, as him's me, he won't say nothing about it
to-day."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: (_Extract from a letter received by Mr. Shootall on the
morning when hounds were expected to draw his covers_)

_Leadenhall Market, Thursday._

Sir,--Your esteemed order to hand. We regret that we are quite out of
foxes at present; but, as you mentioned they were for children's pets,
we thought guinea pigs might do instead, so are sending half a dozen
to-day. Hoping, &c., &c.]

       *       *       *       *       *

TOO MUCH

(_Pity the Sorrows of a poor Hunting Man!_)

_Sportsman_ (_suffering from intense aberration of mind in consequence of
the weather, in reply to wife of his bosom_). "Put out? Why, o' course
I'm put out. Been just through the village, and hang me if at least half
a dozen fools haven't told me that it's nice seasonable weather!"

       *       *       *       *       *

AT THE HUNT BALL

_Mr. Hardhit._ "Don't you think, Miss Highflier, that men look much
better in pink--less like waiters?"

_Miss Highflier._ "Yes, but more like ringmasters--eh?"

    [_Hardhit isn't a bit offended, but seizes the opportunity._

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS

In mounting your horse, always stand facing his tail.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: The patent pneumatic tennis-ball hunting costume. Falling
a pleasure.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Second Whip._ "G-aw-ne away!"

_Middle-aged Diana._ "Go on away, indeed! Impertinence! I'll go just
when I'm ready!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A CASE OF REAL DISTRESS

_Fox-hunter._ "Here's a bore, Jack! The ground is half a foot thick with
snow, and it's freezing like mad!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE HUNTSMAN'S POINT OF VIEW.

One of the best runs of the season.

Good scent all the way.

Sir Heavistone Stogdon unfortunately fell at a stiff bank and broke his
collar-bone.

At the last moment, I regret to say, the fox got away.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A FOX HUNT

(_After a tapestry_)

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: BUGGLES WITH THE DEVON AND SOMERSET

He encounters a "coomb," and wonders if it is soft at the bottom.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: WITH THE DEVON AND SOMERSET

_Sportsman_ (_from the bog_). "Confound you, didn't you say there was a
sound bottom here?"

_Shepherd._ "Zo there be, maister; but thou 'aven't got down to un
yet!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: BUGGLES WITH THE DEVON AND SOMERSET

How he found a "Warrantable Deer."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: BUGGLES WITH THE DEVON AND SOMERSET

_In_ Devonshire.]

       *       *       *       *       *

FOOLS AND THEIR MONEY--

_Jones_ (_who has been having a fair bucketing for the last half-hour, as
he passes friend, in his mad career_). "I'd give a fiver to get off this
brute!"

_Friend_ (_brutal_). "Don't chuck your money away, old chap! You'll be
off for less than that!"

       *       *       *       *       *

WITH THE QUEEN'S

_Leading Sportsman._ "Hold ha--rd! Here's some more of that confounded
barbed wire! Dashed if I don't think this country is mainly inhabited by
retired fishing-tackle makers!"

     [_Makes for nearest gate, followed by sympathetic field._

       *       *       *       *       *

HIS OPINION

_Jenkinson_ (_to M.F.H., who dislikes being bothered_). "What do you think
of this horse?" (_No answer._) "Bred him myself, you know!"

_M.F.H._ (_looking at horse out of corner of his eye_). "Umph! I thought
you couldn't have been such a silly idiot as to have _bought_ him!"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE VOICE OF SPRING

_Bibulous Binks._ "Gad, it's freezing again!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A BLANK--BLANK--DAY]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: WHOSE FAULT?

"He _can_ jump, but he _won't!_"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A VIEW HALLOO

(_Hounds at fault_)

_Whip_ (_bustling up to young Hodge, who has just begun to wave his cap
and sing out lustily_). "Now then, where is he?"

_Young H._ "Yonder, sir! Acomin' across yonder!"

_Whip._ "Get out, why there ain't no fox there stoopid!"

_Young H._ "No, sir; but there be our Billy on his jackass!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Miss Nelly_ (_to her Slave, in the middle of the best
thing of the Season_). "Oh, Mr. Rowel, do you mind going back? I dropped
my whip at the last fence!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

SEVERE

_M.F.H._ (_to Youth from neighbouring Hunt, who has been making himself
very objectionable_). "Now, look here, young man. I go cub-hunting for
the purpose of educating _my own_ puppies. As you belong to another
pack, I'll thank you to take yourself home!"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HUNTING MEMORANDUM

Appearance of things in general to a gentleman who has just turned a
complete somersault!

_* &c., &c., represent sparks of divers beautiful colours._]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "LE SPORTMAN"

"Hi!! Hi!! Stop ze chasse! I tomble--I faloff! _Stop ze fox!_"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "CUBBING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS"

_Half-awakened un-enthusiastic Sportsman_ (_who wished to go out
cub-hunting, but has entirely changed his mind, drowsily addressing
rather astonished burglar_). "Awright, old boy. Can't come with you this
morning. Too sleepy."

    [_Turns round and resumes deep sleep where he left off._

]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A BROKEN PLEDGE

_Sportsman on bank_ (_to Friend in brook_). "Hallo, Thompson, is that you?
Why, I thought you had joined the 'No Drinks in between Meals' Party!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

"IN THE DIM AND DISTANT FUTURE"

_First Sportsman_ (_cantering along easily_). "I say, we shall see you at
dinner on the nineteenth, shan't we?"

_Second Ditto_ (_whose horse is very fresh, and bolting with him_). "If
the beast goes on like this--hanged if you'll ever see me again."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THERE'S LIFE IN THE OLD DOG YET

_Ex-M.F.H._ (_eighty-nine and paralytic_). "Fora-a-d! Fora-a-d!
Fora-a-a-d!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Huntsman_ (_making a cast for the line of the fox, near a
railway_). "Hold hard, please! Don't ride over the line!"

_Would-be Thrusters._ "Oh, no, we won't. There's a bridge farther on!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "RANK BLASPHEMY"

_Squire Oldboy, M.H._ (_enjoying a long and very slow hunt_). "There she
goes! Afraid it's a new hare though."

_Bored Sportsman._ "How lucky! The other must be getting doosid old."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A CHECK

_Huntsman._ "Seen the fox, my boy?"

_Boy._ "No, I ain't!"

_Huntsman._ "Then, what are you hollarin' for?"

_Boy_ (_who has been scaring rooks_). "'Cos I'm paid for it!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: EASIER SAID THAN DONE

_Sixteen-stone Sportsman (who has been nearly put down from a "rotten"
landing, to little Bricks, 9st. 2lb.)_: "Do you mind putting me back in
the saddle, sir?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE TROUBLES OF AN M.F.H.

_M.F.H._ (_to stranger, who is violently gesticulating to hounds_). "When
you have done _feeding your chickens_, sir, perhaps you will allow me to
hunt my hounds!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Nobody was near hounds in the big wood when they pulled
down the cub except Mr. Tinkler and his inamorata. He rashly volunteers
to secure the brush for her!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "Morning, Tom. What a beastly day!"

"It ain't a day, sir. I call it an interval between two bloomin'
nights!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A BAD LOOK-OUT

_Sportsman_ (_to Friend whom he has mounted_). "For goodness' sake, old
chap, don't let her put you down! She's certain to savage you!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: ECHOES OF THE CHASE

_Huntsman_ (_who has been having a very bad ride_). "Either master wants
some new 'orses or a new 'untsman!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HINTS ON HUNTING

Always see that your bridle reins are sound. There are times when they
have a considerable strain on 'em!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SO FAR, NO FARTHER

Extraordinary position assumed by Mr. Snoodle on the sudden and
unexpected refusal of his horse.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HARD LUCK

_Small Child_ (_to Mr. Sparkin, who had come out at an unusually early
hour in order to meet his inamorata at the guide-post, and pilot her out
cub-hunting_). "I was to tell you she has such a bad cold she couldn't
come. But I'm going with you instead, if you promise to take care of me.
I'm her cousin, you know!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A PSEUDO-THRUSTER

_Farmer_ (_to Sportsman, returning from the chase_). "Beg pardon, sir, but
ain't you the gent that broke down that there gate of mine this
morning?"

_Mr. Noodel_ (_who never by any chance jumps anything--frightfully
pleased_). "Er--did I? Well, how much is the damage?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE WATER TEST

_Whip_ (_bringing on tail hounds, in the rear of the field_). "Hulloah!
Who've you got there?"

_Runner_ (_who has just assisted sportsman out of a muddy ditch_). "Dunno.
Can't tell till we've washed 'im down a bit!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MOST UNFORTUNATE

Horrible catastrophe which happened to Captain Fussey (our ladies' man)
on his arrival at the opening meet. New coat, new boots, new horse, new
everything! Hard luck!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A SEVERE TEST

_Miss Sally_ (_who has just taken off her mackintosh--to ardent admirer_).
"Look! they're away! Do just stuff this thing into your pocket. I'm sure
I shan't want it again!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A STUDY IN EXPRESSION

_Irate M.F.H._ (_who has had half an hour in the big gorse trying to get a
faint-hearted fox away, galloping to "holloa" on the far side of
covert_). _"Confound you and your pony, sir! Get out of my way!"_

     [_Binks, who has been trying to keep out of people's way all day,
     thinks he can quite understand the feelings of the hunted fox._

     ]

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR HUNT "POINT TO POINT"

Last week our Point to Point steeplechase came off. So did several of
the riders: this merely _par parenthèse_. I offered to mark out the
course, and, as I intended to escape the dread ordeal of riding by
scratching my horse at the last moment, I thought it would be great fun
to choose a very stiff, not to say bloodthirsty, line. Awful grumbling
on the part of those unhappy ones who were to ride. Just as the bell
rang for saddling, Captain Sproozer, ready dressed for the fray, came up
to me with very long face, and said, "Beastly line this, you know,
Phunker. I call it much too stiff."

I smiled in pitying and superior manner. "Think so, my dear Sproozer? My
horse can't run, worse luck, but I only wish _I_ were going to have the
gallop over it."

"So you shall, then!" cried a rasping voice, suddenly, from behind me.
Sir Hercules Blizzard was the speaker, an awful man with an awful
temper. "So you shall. My idiot of a jockey broke his collar-bone trying
to jump one of the fences on this confounded course of yours to-day, so,
as I am without a rider, you shall ride my mare Dinah."

Swallowed lump in my throat as I thanked him for his offer, but thought
I had better decline, as I didn't know the mare, and besides that, I----

"Oh! all right, I know what you are going to say: that you're not much
good on a horse"--(nothing of the sort! I was not going to say any such
thing, confound the man!) "Of course, I know all that, and that you're
not much of a rider; but I can't help myself now. It's too late to get a
decent horseman, so I shall have to make shift with you."

Deuced condescending of him. I made a feeble effort to escape, and would
cheerfully have paid a hundred pounds for the chance of doing so. Phil
Poundaway, great friend of mine, came up and said (sympathetically, as I
thought at first), "I should think you'd prefer to get off it, wouldn't
you, Phunker?"

Thought he would volunteer in my place, so was perfectly frank with him.
"My dear Phil, I'd give a hundred to get off----"

"Ah! you will, I expect, at the first fence, without paying the money!"
he grinned, as he turned away.

Murder was in my heart at that moment. I got on Dinah, and, feeling like
death, rode down to the starting-post. Thoughts of a misspent youth, of
home and friends and things, came o'er me. I seemed once more to see the
little rose-covered porch, the----

"What on earth are you mooning about?" thundered the Blizzardian voice
in my ear. "Take hold of her head tighter than that, or you'll be off!"

The next moment the starter yelled "Go!" and away, like a whirlwind, we
sped across the first field, towards a huge, thick blackthorn fence, the
one I had thought to see such fun with. Fun! I never felt less funny in
my life, as we approached it at the rate of two thousand miles an hour!
The mare jumped high, but I jumped much higher, and seemed for a brief
moment to be soaring through the blue empyrean. Somehow, the mare
managed to evade me on the return journey earthwards, and, instead of
alighting on the saddle, I found myself "sitting on the floor." A
howl--it might have been of sympathy, but it didn't sound quite like
that--arose from the crowd, and then I thought that I would go home on
foot, instead of returning to explain matters to Sir Hercules. As a
matter of fact, I don't much care for associating with old Blizzard, at
all events, not just now.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: AMENITIES OF SPORT

_Huntsman_ (_to Whip, sent forward for a view_). "Haven't ye seen him,
Tom?"

_Whip._ "No, sir."

_Huntsman._ "If he'd been in a pint pot, ye jolly soon would!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HIS LITTLE DODGE

_First Hunting Man_ (_having observed the ticket with "K" on it in his
friend's hat_). "I didn't know that old gee of yours was a kicker. He
looks quiet enough."

_Second Hunting Man._ "Well, he isn't really. I only wear the "K" to
make people give me more room!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: TRUE COURAGE

_Whip._ "Hi, sir! Keep back! The fox may break covert there!"

_Foreigner._ "Bah! I fear him not--your fox."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE FORCE OF HABIT

_Spanner_ (_a great cyclist, whose horse has been startled by man on
covert hack_). "Hi! confound you! Why the deuce don't you sound your
bell!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "THE CART WITHOUT THE HORSE"

Scene--_Cub-hunting._ Time--_About one o'clock._

_Lady._ "Well, Count, what have you lost? Your lunch?"

_The Count_ (_who breakfasted some time before six o'clock, a.m._). "No,
no! Donner und wetter! I have him, but I have lost my teeth!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HORRIBLE PREDICAMENT

_Gent_ (_on mettlesome hireling_). "'Elp! 'Elp! Somebody stop 'im! 'E's
going to jump, and I can't!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MOST EMBARRASSING

_Lady (hiding behind bush, to Mr. Spoodle, who has captured her horse)_.
"Oh, thank you so much! But I hope to goodness you have found my skirt
as well!"

    [_Nice position for Mr. Spoodle, who is very bashful, and has seen
    nothing of the garment_.

]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "DO NOT SPEAK TO THE MAN AT THE WHEEL"

_'Arry_ (_puffing a "twopenny smoke," to huntsman, making unsuccessful
cast_). "Very bad scent."

_Huntsman._ "Shockin'! Smells like burnin' seaweed!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OBEYING ORDERS

"It's all very well for master to say 'Keep close to Miss Vera,
Miles'--but I want to know 'oo's going to take Miles to the
'orsepital?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: GALLANTRY REWARDED

_Lady_ (_having had a fall at a brook, and come out the wrong side,--to
stranger who has caught her horse_). "Oh, I'm _so_ much obliged to you!
Now, do you mind just bringing him over?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: JUST OFF

"Ride her on the snaffle, Tom! Don't ride her on the curb!"

"Hang your curb and snaffle! I've enough to do to _ride her on the
saddle!_"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A Suggestion: No more trouble from wire, damage to
fences, etc.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE TRIALS OF AN M.F.H.

_M.F.H._ (_to misguided enthusiast who has been cheering hounds on a bad
scent_). "Now then! Am I going to hunt the hounds or are you?"

_Enthusiast_ (_sweetly_). "Just as you please, m'lord, just as you
please."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OFF HIS GUARD

_Farmer_ (_just coming up_). "Young gentleman riding your brown horse, my
lord, had nasty accident a field or two back. Barbed wire--very ugly
cuts!"

_My Lord._ "Tut--tut--tut! Dear--dear--dear! Not the horse, I hope?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "BON VOYAGE!"

_Mossu (shot into a nice soft loam), exultingly._ "A--ha--a! I am safe
o-vère! Now it is your turn, Meester Timbre Jompre! Come on, sare!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: ON THE WAY HOME FROM THE EXMOOR HUNT--NO KILL

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BRIDGE

_Fair Huntress._ "What a pity the hounds let that splendid stag get
away, Colonel, wasn't it?"

_Colonel._ "Pity! Ha, if they'd only taken my advice we should have been
up with him now, instead of being miles away on the wrong track!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Distinguished Foreigner_ (_to good Samaritan who has
caught his horse_). "Merci bien, monsieur! You save me much trouble.
Before, I lose my horse--I lose him altogether, and I must put him in
the newspaper!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: VIVE LA CHASSE!

_Foreign Visitor_ (_an enthusiastic "sportsman," viewing fox attempting to
break_). "A-h-h-h! Halte-la! Halte! _You shall not escape!_"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: RATHER TOO MUCH

_Lady_ (_having just cannoned Stranger into brook_). "Oh, I'm _so_ sorry I
bumped you! Would you mind going in again for my hat?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE END OF THE HUNTING SEASON

(_By Our Own Novice_)

    Good-bye to the season! E'en gluttons
      Have had quite enough of the game,
    And if we returned to our muttons,
      Our horses are laid up and lame.
    We hunted straight on through the winter,
      And never were stopped by the frost,
    As I know right well from each splinter
      Of bone that my poor limbs have lost.

    Good-bye to the season! The "croppers"
      I got where the fences were tall,
    And Oh the immaculate "toppers"
      That always were crushed by my fall.
    Don't think though that I'm so stout-hearted
      As e'er to jump hedges or dikes,
    It's simply that after we've started,
      My "gee" gallivants as it likes.

    In vain I put on natty breeches,
      And tops like Meltonian swell,
    It ends in the blessed old ditches,
      I know like the Clubs in Pall Mall.

    And when from a "gee" that's unruly
      I fall with a terrible jar,
    I know that old _Jorrocks_ spoke truly,
      And hunting's "the image of war."

    And never for me "_Fair Diana_"
      Shall smile as we know that she can,
    With looks that are sweeter than manna,
      On many a fortunate man.
    It adds to the pangs that I suffer,
      When thrown at a fence in her track,
    To hear her "Ridiculous duffer!"
      When jumping slap over my back.

    I've fractured my ulnar, I'm aching
      Where over my ribs my horse rolled;
    Egad! the "Old Berkeley" is making
      One man feel uncommonly old.
    Good-bye to the season! I'm shattered
      And damaged in figure and face;
    But thankful to find I'm not scattered
      In pieces all over the place!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS

Good hands will often make the most confirmed refuser jump.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: TRULY DELIGHTFUL!

Galloping down the side of a field covered with mole-hills, on a
weak-necked horse, with a snaffle bridle, one foot out of your stirrup,
and a bit of mud in your eye!]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SELF-PRESERVATION

_Tomlin_ (_who has been mounted by friend_). "It's all very well to shout
'Loose your reins,' but what the deuce _am_ I to hang on to?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

SEASONABLE DISH FOR A SPORTSMAN.--A plate o' _f_ox-tail soup.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE RULE OF THE HUNTING-FIELD.--Lex Tally-ho-nis.

       *       *       *       *       *

FASHIONABLE FOOD FOR HORSES.--Hay _à la_ mowed.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: QUOTATIONS GONE WRONG

                            "Life has passed
    With me but roughly since I heard thee last."
                                       _Cowper._

]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: ALL HER PLAY

_Country Gentleman_ (_to nervous man, whom he has mounted_). "By Jove,
old chap, never saw the mare so fresh! Take care you ain't off!"

_Nervous Man_ (_heartily_). "W--w--wish to goodness I were!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS

Always let your horse see that you are his master.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration]

THE END

BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.





End of Project Gutenberg's Mr. Punch in the Hunting Field, by Various