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noble science;" and (as I believe ninety out of a hundred University men, aut Oxford aut Cambridge, will allow, if they speak candidly their feelings at that time) a clipping gallop, with, during it, as many large jumps to be covered as possible, was chiefly the object in view. The rasping rider was held in higher estimation than the sportsman-like one; and at our conversaziones in Lichfield's, over a basin of soup upon our return to Cambridge," he who rode over such and such a gate" was the hero of the day.

I must en passant say, that at this shop, the "Tattersall's" of Cambridge, there was a man more utterly impenetrable to the effects of liquor than any person I ever before or since beheld: he came one evening, to set on our dessert at the Club, and (kar' eos) Barnes was helped to his modicum of wine (a finger glass full of good stiff Port), which was bolted at a pull-ditto-and DITTO REPEAT ED! The President then asked him if he would have any more? but he begged that he might be excused, as he was going to several other parties, and was afraid he might get a drop too much!-N. B. a finger glass holds a bottle.-This man still proceeds in the same way; but one day or other a coroner's jury will return a verdict of "manslaughter" against some similar party of wiseacres for encouraging such an exhibition.

I frequently hunted with the Puckeridge hounds (Mr. Hanbury's), while at Cambridge: but your notice has been so often directed to them of late, that reminiscences of six or seven years back would be nothing better than hitting off the heel of your more recent Correspondent. They were

then hunted by John Monk, as fine a horseman and as good a judge of hunting as ever crossed a saddle ; and whipped in by G. Barwick and Will Church. John found his own horses; and, in consequence, it was hardly to be expected that two hundred guineas' worth of horse flesh was to be shoved through every wood, with hounds in their draft: there was therefore too much of " yoax, yoax!" on the outside, and too much of sending whippers-in to do huntsman's work within the covert. All disputes were ended by the secession of John Monk; and G. Barwick was placed at the head of the cabinet. John has now a large farm at Throcking, and frequently shews at covert side in a brown, and on the best nag in the field. His horses fetch long prices in London, where he generally disposes of them "ready made;" and moreover, if John asks two hundred, he seldom intends to take a hundred and ninety.

Mr. Hanbury himself was extraordinarily well mounted for so heavy a man, as well as past the prime of life: he had a most splen did grey, which I have seen go faster (between Will Church's boots) than I should have conceived possible for so large a horse; and by complete knowledge of the country, a little M'Adamizing, and a most excellent head (unless the fox was a very straightnecked one indeed), Mr. Hanbury saw a good deal of sport; and I can assert, that no one ever thought a moment thrown away in giving so popular a master of hounds a little assistance.

The celebrated Mr. Richard Gurney, a brother-in-law of Mr. Hanbury, was a pretty regular attendant. Mr. Gurney rode (I only

guess at his weight, but I do not think I am very far from right) twenty stone, and for as many minutes nothing could beat him. Beyond that time, of course, no horse could go with him when hounds were running their best pace. His stud was most magnificent: no money was grudged for horses likely to carry him; and he never hunts a horse until he arrives at his full powers-eight years old. Sober Robin and his master were prodigies in any country. Indeed all his horses were of a most superior caste*, as they well needed to be. He had a remarkably clever lad, who rode his second horse he was always forthcoming at the instant required, and Mr. G. was very quick in his exchange. He is one of those decided men at his fences that I delight to see. If he comes into a field, and steers for a certain point as his exit from it, it must be something very queer or unforeseen that will induce him to change his mind.

The two Messrs. Campbell, Mr. Parry (another excellent welter weight), and Sir Peter Soame, who bought an old horse (Hyder Alit), which, formerly, Butler (Sir G. Leeds's huntsman) used to ride, and was, without exception, the cleverest hunter I ever saw, were some of the principal performers whom I recollect. On the promotion of George Barwick, he was assisted by George Henessy, commonly surnamed "Pop," who came

from Surrey (I think from Colonel Jolliffe), and a youngster, the son of one of the best whippers-in England ever produced-requiescat in pace! !-I mean Jim Farr, who finished his career in the service of Mr. C. Nunn (then hunting the borders of Essex and Suffolk), and who had whipped in to nearly all the crack Southern packs. They say, aquila non generat columbam; I am sceptical upon that point.

The men were always well mounted. Barwick had a famous horse called Patch (from a certain extraordinary white mark), which was a present from Mr. Gurney§; and one which Will rode, quite a pony, was not to be beaten. were neatly dressed-tops,breeches, gloves, &c. ad unguem, (I do not mean to pun,) and all were exceedingly good riders, and in general clever with hounds.

All

The kennel is very airy and roomy-built, on a rising ground on the left-hand side (coming from London) of the town of Puckeridge, and was always kept most delicately clean. George is an excellent kennel huntsman; and a farrier very seldom enters the sta ble, which is entirely under his management. The hounds are bred strong and bony, and their blood undeniable; the best proof of which is, crack bitches from all countries are continually sent to their kennel.

I would here enumerate some of our best performers over a country; but so many follow hunting for the

Mr. Gurney bought a good deal from Heskin, the original dealer, of whom it is said that his recommendation of a horse's paces was "he walks like anything; trots like nothing at all; and as for galloping-why, d-n his eyes!" An excellent specimen of αποσιώπησις.

It was an old saying, that Hyder Ali was misnamed. His proper appellation was Gehazi, for he was a leper as white as snow."

Butler used to say, that “old Hyder could jump into a quart pot on one side, and out of it on the other."

§ A friend of mine had one of the same sort, which he called, more classically, Wheatear."Vide Buffon.

amusement, not for the éclat resulting from it, that, in so doing, I might possibly annoy some old friend, whose pursuits, circumstances, or notions may have much altered, since,

"On our little blood hacks, dirt and dan.

ger defying,

To covert we rattled in hopes of a run ;" and who may not wish to be trotted out for inspection in the pages of the Sporting Magazine. Suffice it to say, generally, that, after the two large Colleges, Peter House, Trinity Hall, and Downing saw most of hounds, shewed the best nags out of their stables, rode the longest distances to covert, and, I believe I may add, shewed themselves the best men when they got there.

The character of the Oakley for sport did not stand so high when I was at Cambridge as it has since; and the present would be a fairer time at which to give an account of these now celebrated hounds, than if we were to fix the date of our memoranda in 1821-22. I, however, have not seen them since then; when their spirited master (Lord Tavistock) was unwell, and their huntsman, an elderly man of the name of Wells, was considered slow. Shortly after this, an improvement took place in the health of his Lordship, and consequently in the management of affairs. The first whip, who has since proved himself a good huntsman, was promoted, and the whole establishment was enlarged. Their sport continued improving, and has since been very good indeed. The part of their country within the reach of a Cambridge man is principally woodland. Mr. Leeds, whom I have before mentioned, was their best man; and to see him ride to hounds was at any time worth a

VOL. XXII. N.S.-No. 128.

day's journey, putting the hunting

out of the account.

Of all hard-working, hard-riding (the latter of which we seldom see) masters of hounds, none worked or rode harder than Charles Newman. The fixtures of his hounds which we used most frequently to attend were Western Colville-(where by the way a certain gate sorely offended the mare of a certain very good friend of mine; he will remember the day, as I know he cons your pages)-near Newmarket, Burton Wood, Borley, Bolsham, and Sturmer Hall. I remember one morning meeting him there, and having a capital day's sport. We found our fox in a covert near Haverill, and killed him a short distance from Saffron Walden. These hounds had capital sport, but that was easily accounted for Charles Newman hunted them himself. He was always with his hounds on a capital style of horse, and his head and heart were both in the right place. On a moderate scenting day he assisted his hounds with more judgment than almost any man I ever saw, and would kill his fox when others would have given all up for lost. The work he did was something out of the common way. He had two kennels, one at Thurlow, the other more towards the centre of Essex; and frequently, when the day's sport was over in the Thurlow country, has he had to ride thirty miles to give necessary directions at the other kennel for the next day's hunting. This, however, he seemed to think light of. He hunted four days in the week, and his country reached from Linton to Colchester, where he was met by Mr. C. Nunn. He was bounded by Mr. Conyers on the Dunmow side, and by my Lord

E

Petre near Chelmsford. Northward, he reached Bury, and God knows where-the German ocean, I believe. A story was current about him at Cambridge, which I can readily give credit to. An intimate friend (whom he had not seen for years) happened to be out shooting in the direction in which the E. E. hounds were running.

Presently crack went a fence, and bang came a horse and a man over one another into the field where our shooter was standing. On remounting his horse, which his friend had caught, the first and only question put by Mr. N. was, "Have you seen the fox ?” (To be continued.)

THE HERTFORDSHIRE HUNT.

SIR,

I Have for this last month been endeavoring to discover in the field of Mr. Hanbury's Hunt, by dint of physiognomical study, the face of a pleasant Correspondent of yours, who has amused me, as well as many of my friends, with a few thoughts on driving, and a profile of the famous Joe Walton; but hitherto I have not been able to ken him. I wish we were ac quainted, that I might, in a courteous manner, excuse myself to him for this intrusion upon his intentions, expressed in that letter, to offer you an account of the Hunt, in which it seems we both participate the pleasure of sporting. It is not to him, however, that I am indebted for the thought of venturing myself upon a general track so much trodden; nor is it to the example of a far-famed friend of yours.

So long ago, indeed, as last year, having read in your work several flitting touches adverting to the Hertfordshire hounds, and a few of their feats, I felt a sort of kindling desire to pourtray, in black-letter record, something like an historical account of an establishment which had existed a great many years, in a soil of which 1 considered myself nearly

indigenous, and over which I had for a great number also, not only cast a fox-hunting eye, but in which I had passed many, many happy ones, in the cultivation of warm-hearted friendships and intimacies.

These are local attachments, and they give birth naturally to local descriptions. Therefore, to general readers, I fear all my details will serve no other turn than many of such-like complexion have done with me-just to warm the blood of a sporting taste, without identifying. To the natives, and my old companions, I hope my history and tale of knowledge will be more interesting.

There is an extravagant prejudice against most of the hunting establishments and countries within fifty miles of London, desperately tinctured with wormwood, in the minds of all cigar-bucks and dandy wights, closing their satire and yellow-faced humour with the galling word Cockney! To such I write with forlorn hope of pleasing their daintiness. From friends I expect better fellowship; and I somehow feel assured they will be gratified by old matters, oldfashionedly treated perhaps, in their own sphere.

I have said, at the end of last season this occupied my thoughts: but other calls arose fishing in the spring, racing in the summer, and shooting in the autumn, kept crowding their pleasing avocations so much upon me, and the fancy that the subject was becoming wearisome, I almost forgot the impulse; indeed rather flung it from my thoughts: but the continued fine diversion I have enjoyed, and the capital management of the hounds throughout the whole of this season, have brought with them such exciting effects, that I could no longer resist the inclination for an attempt to rescue my (almost) native country from the vulgar odium--hoping to give her the soaring wings of a phoenix to arise out of the text with.

It is well known that Sampson Hanbury, Esq. living at Poles, near Ware, is now the manager of the pack of fox-hounds kept at Puckeridge, having been the sole conductor since 1826, upon the seceding of the Messrs. Calvert, assisted, to a certain extent, by a respectable subscription. The country he occupies, or rather which the hounds have inherited for a century, is of considerable extent, embracing much variety of soil, and having very different characteristics. It may be said to commence at Hoddesdon, seventeen miles from London(indeed it is not many years ago that its beginning might have been reckoned at Cheshunt Common, as all the Hoddesdon Woods were included in the Hunt: they are now occupied by the Hatfield establishment) and to end Northerly at about the result of forty miles distance from town-running nearly in a parallel line from the edge of Bedfordshire to some ten miles into the county of Essex. Taking the

map of the Hunt, I should name Hitchin as one boundary, and the neighbourhood of Saffron Walden as the other thirty miles apart. The extreme width I consider thus:-From East-End Wood, near Dunmow in Essex, to BoxWood, near Stevenage in Hertsboth neutrals, in junction with Mr. Conyers on the East, and the Hatfield hunt West. If I were to draw a circle, and give the four points of division, they would thus appear:-North, Bygrave; South, Hoddesdon; East, Dunmow (at the extreme); West, Stevenagea circumference of one hundred and thirty to one hundred and forty miles.

All the country on the left of the road as far as Puckeridge, where it divides, to Barkway and Cambridge on the right, and Buntingford and Royston (the old-highnorth) to the left, is generally a gravelly clay soil, and far from good scenting; intersected with large commons, all under the plough; more than undulating, and always deep; abounding with small woods and stony lanes; forming together a peculiar district, known to Aborigines as the Munden Country, and which, with all natural penchants in my heart, I cannot forbear saying I wish was out of the map, or out of my knowledge.

The foxes are devils to shift, and notorious for being lovers of thread-the-needle-few instances being on record of their quitting the twisting eyes when once a foot. In this year they have outstripped all their ancestors; and many circles have been galloped round, till the horses became giddy with deep ground and severe running; while not a few were jogged over an inner one, with the riders crying at four

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