On an elevation varying from 1000 to 1200 feet above the sea

On an elevation varying from 1000 to 1200 feet above the sea

On an elevation varying from 1000 to 1200 feet above the sea

Exmoor consists of 20,000 acres, on an elevation varying from 1000 to 1200 feet above the sea, of undulating table-land, divided by valleys, or combes, through which the River Exe which rises in one of its valleys with its tributary, the Barle, forces a devious way, in the form of pleasant trout-streams, rattling over and among huge stones, and creeping through deep pools a very angler’s paradise. Like many similar districts in the Scotch Highlands, the resort of the red deer, it is called a forest, although trees with the exception of some very insignificant plantations are as rare as men. After riding all day with a party of explorers, one of them suddenly exclaimed, Look, there is a man! A similar expression escaped me when we came in sight of the first tree a gnarled thorn, standing alone on the side of a valley.

We started on Exmoor ponies to ride to Simon’s Bath

We started on Exmoor ponies to ride to Simon’s Bath

We started on Exmoor ponies to ride to Simon’s Bath

We started on Exmoor ponies to ride to Simon’s Bath.

Exmoor, previous to 1818, was the property of the Crown, and leased to Sir Thomas Dyke Acland, who has an estate of a similar character close adjoining. He used its wild pasture (at that time it was without roads) for breeding ponies and feeding Exmoor sheep. There are no traces of any population having ever existed on this forest since Roman times. The Romans are believed to have worked iron-mines on the moor, which have recently been re-opened.

Very dreary was this part of our journey

Very dreary was this part of our journey

Very dreary was this part of our journey

Very dreary was this part of our journey, although, contrary to the custom of the country, the day was bright and clear, and the September sun defeated the fogs, and kept at a distance the drizzling rains which in winter sweep over Exmoor. We had now left the smooth, rocky-floored road, and were travelling along what most resembled the dry bed of a torrent: turf banks on each side seemed rather intended to define than to divide the property. As far as the eye could reach, the rushy tufted moorland extended, bounded in the distance by lofty, round-backed hills. Thinly scattered about were horned sheep and Devon red oxen. For about two miles we jolted gently on, until, beginning to descend a hill, our driver pointed in the valley below to a spot where stacks of hay and turf guarded a series of stone buildings, saying, There’s the Grange. The first glance was not encouraging no sheep-station in Australia could seem more utterly desolate; but it improved on closer examination. The effects of cultivation were to be seen in the different colours of the fields round the house, where the number of stock grazing showed that more than ordinary means must have been taken to improve the pasture.

And cottages at rare intervals

And cottages at rare intervals

And cottages at rare intervals

One turnpike, and cottages at rare intervals, had so far kept up the idea of population; but now, far as the horizon extended, not a place of habitation was to be seen; until, just in a hollow bend out of the ascending road, we came upon a low white farm-house, of humble pretensions, flanked by a great turf-stack (but no signs of corn; no fold-yard full of cattle), which bore, on a board of great size, in long letters, this imposing announcement, The Poltimore Arms. Our driver not being of the usual thirsty disposition of his tribe, we did not test the capabilities of the one hostelry and habitation on Lord Poltimore’s Moorland Estate, but, pushing on, took the reins while our conductor descended to open a gate in a large turf and stone wall. We passed through left Devon entered Somerset; and the famous Exmoor estate of 20,000 acres, bounded by a wall forty miles in length, the object of our journey, lay before us.

At length the hedges began to grow thinner

At length the hedges began to grow thinner

At length the hedges began to grow thinner

At length the hedges began to grow thinner; beeches succeeded the hazels; the road, more rugged and bare showed the marks where winter’s rains had ploughed deep channels; and, at the turn of a steep hill, we saw, on the one hand, the brown and blue moor stretching before and above us; and on the other hand, below, like a map, the fertile vale lay unrolled, various in colour, according to the crops, divided by enclosures into every angle from most acute to most obtuse. Below was the cultivation of centuries; above, the turnip the greatest improvement of modern agriculture flourished, a deep green, under the protection of fences of very recent date.

Over water-courses now merrily trotting

Over water-courses now merrily trotting

Over water-courses now merrily trotting

So, up hill and down dale, over water-courses now merrily trotting, anon descending, and not less merrily trudging up, steep ascents we proceed by a track as sound as if it had been under the care of a model board of trustees for the simple reason that it rested on natural rock. We pushed along at an average rate of some six miles an hour, allowing for the slow crawling up hills; passing many rich fields wherein fat oxen of the Devon breed calmly grazed, with sheep that had certainly not been bred on mountains. Once we passed a deserted copper-mine; which, after having been worked for many years, had at length failed, or grown unprofitable, under the competition of the richer mines of Cuba and South Australia. A long chimney, peering above deserted cottages, and a plentiful crop of weeds, was the sole monument of departed glories in shares and dividends and mine-captain’s promises.

The Wild Ponies of Exmoor.

The Wild Ponies of Exmoor.

In England there are so few wild horses, that the following description of a visit I made to Exmoor a few years ago in the month of September, may be doubly interesting, since Mr. Rarey has shown a short and easy method of dealing with the principal produce of that truly wild region.

The road from South Molton to Exmoor is a gradual ascent over a succession of hills, of which each descent, however steep, leads to a still longer ascent, until you reach the high level of Exmoor. The first six miles are through real Devonshire lanes; on each side high banks, all covered with fern and grass, and topped with shrubs and trees; for miles we were hedged in with hazels, bearing nuts with a luxuriance wonderful to the eyes of those accustomed to see them sold at the corners of streets for a penny the dozen. In spring and summer, wild flowers give all the charms of colour to these game-preserving hedgerows; but a rainy autumn had left no colour among the rich green foliage, except here and there a pyramid of the bright red berries of the mountain ash.

Stowe’s distinguished countryman

Stowe’s distinguished countryman

Stowe’s distinguished countryman

Mrs. Stowe’s distinguished countryman, Washington Irving, took a sounder view of our rural pleasures; for he says in his charming Sketch Book:

The fondness for rural life among the higher classes of the English has had a great and salutary effect upon national character. I do not know a finer race of men than the English gentlemen. Instead of the softness and effeminacy which characterizes the men of rank of most countries, they exhibit a union of elegance and strength, of robustness of frame and freshness of complexion, which I am inclined to attribute to their living so much in the open air, pursuing so eagerly the invigorating recreations of the country.

I think this is a mistake. In a copy of the rules forwarded to me by a Cheshire squire, one of the hereditary members of the club, it is a pair of gloves. But in the notes, the songs and ballads by R. Egerton Warburton, Esq., of Arley Hall, it is printed breeches.

Roads and canals excited great alarm to our fathers

Roads and canals excited great alarm to our fathers

Roads and canals excited great alarm to our fathers

With every change sportsmen of the old school have prophesied the total ruin of fox-hunting. Roads and canals excited great alarm to our fathers. In our time every one expected to see sport entirely destroyed by railroads; but we were mistaken, and have lived to consider them almost an essential auxiliary of a good hunting district.

Looking back at the manner in which fox-hunting has grown up with our habits and customs, and increased in the number of packs, number of hunting days, and number of horsemen, in full proportion with wealth and population, one cannot help being amused at the simplicity with which Mrs. Beecher Stowe, who comes from a country where people seldom amuse themselves out of doors (except in making money), tells in her Sunny Memories, how, when she dined with Lord John Russell, at Richmond, the conversation turned on hunting; and she expressed her astonishment that, in the height of English civilisation, this vestige of the savage state should remain. Thereupon they only laughed, and told stories about fox-hunters. They might have answered with old Gervase Markham, Of all the field pleasures wherewith Old Time and man’s inventions hath blessed the hours of our recreations, there is none so excellent as the delight of hunting, being compounded like an harmonious concert of all the best partes of most refined pleasures, as music, dancing, running and ryding.

When each horse wore a crupper

When each horse wore a crupper

When each horse wore a crupper

When each horse wore a crupper, each squire a pigtail,
Ere Blue Cap and Wanton taught greyhounds to scurry,
With music in plenty oh, where was the hurry?

But it is more than eighty years since Blue Cap and Wanton ran their race over Newmarket Heath, which for speed has never been excelled by any modern hounds.

And it is a curious fact, that although Somerville, the author of The Chase, died in 1742, his poem contains as clear and correct directions for fox-hunting, with few exceptions, as if it were written yesterday. So that the art must have arrived at perfection within sixty or seventy years. In the long reign of George III. the distinction between town and country was much broken down, and the isolation in which country squires lived destroyed. Packs of hounds, kept for the amusement of a small district, became, as it were, public property. At length the meets of hounds began to be regularly given in the country newspapers.

A portrait of a celebrated hound

A portrait of a celebrated hound

A portrait of a celebrated hound

But the change to fast hounds, fast horses, and fast men, took place at a much more distant date than some of our hard-riding young swells of 1854 seem to imagine. A portrait of a celebrated hound, Ringwood, at Brocklesby Park, painted by Stubbs, the well-known animal painter in 1792, presents in an extraordinary manner the type and character of some of the best hounds remotely descended from him, although the Cheshire song says:

And that when the celebrated Mr Meynell reduced it to a science

And that when the celebrated Mr Meynell reduced it to a science

And that when the celebrated Mr Meynell reduced it to a science

Between the period that fox-hunting superseded hare-hunting in the estimation of country squires, and that when the celebrated Mr. Meynell reduced it to a science, and prepared the way for making hunting in Leicestershire almost an aristocratic institution, a great change took place in the breed of the hounds and horses, and in the style of horsemanship. Under the old system, the hounds were taken out before light to hunt back by his drag the fox who had been foraging all night, and set on him as he lay above his stopped-earth, before he had digested his meal of rats or rabbits. The breed of hounds partook more of the long-eared, dew-lapped, heavy, crock-kneed southern hound, or of the bloodhound. Well-bred horses, too, were less plentiful than they are now.

Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt kept harriers at his Manor House of Aylsby

Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt kept harriers at his Manor House of Aylsby

Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt kept harriers at his Manor House of Aylsby

Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt kept harriers at his Manor House of Aylsby, at the foot of the Lincolnshire Wolds, before he turned them into fox-hounds. A barn at Aylsby was formerly known as the Kennels. The Aylsby estate has passed, in the female line, into the Oxfordshire family of the Tyrwhitt Drakes, who are so well known as masters of hounds, and first-rate sportsmen; while a descendant of Squire Vyner, of Lincolnshire, has, within the last twenty years, been a master of fox-hounds in Warwickshire and Worcestershire. Mr. Meynell, the father of modern fox-hunting, and founder of the Quorn Hunt, formed his pack chiefly of drafts from the Brocklesby.

In the time of the first Lord Yarborough

In the time of the first Lord Yarborough

In the time of the first Lord Yarborough

In the time of the first Lord Yarborough, his country extended over the whole of the South Wold country, part of the now Burton Hunt, and part of North Nottinghamshire; and he used to go down into both those districts for a month at a time to hunt the woodlands. There were, as he told his grandson when he began hunting, only three or four fences between Horncastle and Brigg, a distance of at least thirty miles.

By the kindness of Lord Yarborough

By the kindness of Lord Yarborough

By the kindness of Lord Yarborough

By the kindness of Lord Yarborough, I was permitted to examine all the papers connected with his hounds. Among them is a memorandum dated April 20, 1713: it is agreed between Sir John Tyrwhitt, Charles Pelham, Esq., and Robert Vyner, Esq. (another name well known in modern hunting annals), that the foxhounds now kept by the said Sir John Tyrwhitt and Mr. Pelham shall be joyned in one pack, and the three have a joint interest in the said hounds for five years, each for one-third of the year. And it was agreed that the establishment should consist of sixteen couple of hounds, three horses, and a huntsman and a boy. So apparently they only hunted one day a week. It would seem that, under the terms of the agreement, the united pack soon passed into the hands of Mr. Pelham, and down to the present day the hounds have been branded with a P. I also found at Brocklesby a rough memoranda of the kennel from 1710 to 1746; after that date the Stud Book has been distinctly kept up without a break. From 1797 the first Lord Yarborough kept journals of the pedigree of hounds in his own handwriting; and since his time by the father, the grandfather, and great-grandfather of the present huntsman.

The club commenced Fox-hunting

The club commenced Fox-hunting

The club commenced Fox-hunting

In 1769, the club commenced Fox-hunting. The uniform was ordered to be changed to ‘a red coat, unbound, with small frock sleeve, a green velvet cape, and green waistcoat, and that the sleeve have no buttons; in every other form to be like the old uniform; and the red saddle-cloth to be bound with green instead of blue, the fronts of the saddles to remain the same.’

At the same time there was an alteration in regard to drinking orders ‘That instead of three collar bumpers, only one shall be drunk, except a fox be killed above ground, and then one other collar glass shall be drunk to Fox-hunting. Among the names of the original members in 1762, we recognise many whose descendants have maintained in this generation their ancestral reputation as sportsmen. For instance, Crewe, Mainwaring, Wilbraham, Smith, Barry, Cholmondeley, Stanley, Grosvenor, Townley, Watkin Williams Wynne, Stanford. But, although the Tarporley Hunt Club has been maintained and thriven through the reigns of George III., George IV., William IV., and Victoria, the pack of hounds, destroyed or removed by various accidents, have been more than once renewed. But the Brocklesby pack has been maintained in the family of the present Earl of Yarborough more than 130 years without break or change of blood; and a written pedigree of the pack has been kept for upwards of 100 years; and it is now the oldest pack in the kingdom. The Cottesmore, which was established before the Brocklesby, has been repeatedly dispersed and has long passed out of the hands of the family of the Noels by whom it was first established 200 years ago.

It was ordered that three collar bumpers be drunk after dinner

It was ordered that three collar bumpers be drunk after dinner

It was ordered that three collar bumpers be drunk after dinner

As to drinking, it was ordered ‘that three collar bumpers be drunk after dinner, and the same after supper; after that every member might do as he pleased in regard to drinking.’

By another rule every member was ‘to present on his marriage to each member of the hunt, a pair of well-stitched leather breeches,’ then costing a guinea a pair.

And double-breasted flannel waistcoat

And double-breasted flannel waistcoat

And double-breasted flannel waistcoat

The uniform was ordered to be ‘a blue frock with plain yellow mettled buttons, scarlet velvet cape, and double-breasted flannel waistcoat. The coat sleeve to be cut and turned. A scarlet saddle-cloth, bound singly with blue, and the front of the bridle lapt with scarlet.’ The third rule contrasts oddly with our modern meets at half-past ten and half-past eleven o’clock: ‘The harriers shall not wait for any member after eight o’clock in the morning.’

No pack of hounds could fairly run down a fox

No pack of hounds could fairly run down a fox

No pack of hounds could fairly run down a fox

Fox-hunting rose into favour with the increase of population attendant on improved agriculture. In a wild woodland country, with earths unstopped, no pack of hounds could fairly run down a fox.

I have found in private records two instances in which packs of hounds, since celebrated, were turned from hare-hounds to fox-hounds. There are, no doubt, many more. The Tarporley, or Cheshire Hunt, was established in 1762 for Hare-hunting, and held its first meeting on the 14th November in that year. ‘Those who kept harriers brought them in turn.’ It is ordered by the 8th Rule, ‘that if no member of the society kept hounds, or that it were inconvenient for masters to bring them, a pack be borrowed at the expense of the society.’

And being led a straight long run

And being led a straight long run

And being led a straight long run

When wild deer became scarce, the attention of sportsmen was probably turned to the sporting qualities of the fox by the accident of harriers getting upon the scent of some wanderer in the clicketing season, and being led a straight long run. We have more than once met with such accidents on the Devonshire moors, and have known well-bred harriers run clear away from the huntsmen, after an on-lying fox, over an unrideable country.

Is borne out by a speech of Oliver St. John

Is borne out by a speech of Oliver St. John

Is borne out by a speech of Oliver St. John

This low estimate of the fox, at that period, is borne out by a speech of Oliver St. John, to the Long Parliament, against Strafford, quoted by Macaulay, in which he declares ‘Strafford was to be regarded not as a stag or hare, but as a fox, who was to be snared by any means and knocked on the head without pity.’ The same historian relates that red deer were as plentiful on the hills of Hampshire and Gloucestershire, in the reign of Queen Anne, as they are now in the preserved deer-forests of the Highlands of Scotland.

The chase of the foxe or badger

The chase of the foxe or badger

The chase of the foxe or badger

The chase of the foxe or badger, although it be a chase of much more swiftness (than the otter), and is ever kept upon firm ground, yet I cannot allow it for training horses, because for the most part it continues in woody rough grounds, where a horse can neither conveniently make foorth his way nor can heed without danger of stubbing. The chase, much better than any of these, is hunting of the bucke or stag, especially if they be not confined within a park or pale, but having liberty to chuse their waies, which some huntsmen call hunting at force. When he is at liberty he will break forth his chase into the winde, sometimes four, five, and six miles foorth right: nay, I have myself followed a stag better than ten miles foorth right from the place of his rousing to the place of his death, besides all his windings, turnings, and cross passages.

The time of the year for these chases is from the middle of May to middle of September.’ He goes on to say, ‘which being of all chases the worthiest, and belonging only Princes and men of best quality, there is no horse too good to be employed in such a service; yet the horses which are aptest and best to be employed in this chase is the Barbary jennet, or a light-made English gelding, being of a middle stature.’ ‘But to conclude and come to the chase which is of all chases the best for the purpose whereof we are now entreating; it is the chase of the hare, which is a chase both swift and pleasant, and of long endurance; it is a sport ever readie, equally distributed, as well to the wealthie farmer as the great gentleman. It hath its beginning contrary to the stag and bucke; for it begins at Michaelmas, when they end, and is out of date after April, when they first come into season.’

The Origin of Fox-hunting.

The Origin of Fox-hunting.

The origin of modern fox-hunting is involved in a degree of obscurity which can only be attributed to the illiterate character of the originators, the Squire Westerns, who rode all day, and drank all the evening. We need the assistance of the ingenious correspondent of Notes and Queries:

It is quite certain that the fox was not accounted a noble beast of chase before the Revolution of 1688; for Gervase Markham classes the fox with the badger in his ‘Cavalrie, or that part of Arte wherein is contained the Choice Trayning and Dyeting of Hunting Horses whether for Pleasure or for Wager. The Third Booke. Printed by Edw. Allde, for Edward White; and are to be sold at his Shop, neare the Little North Door of St. Paule’s Church, at the signe of the Gun. 1616.’ He says:

Make his pack hold to the line of the fox as long as they could

Make his pack hold to the line of the fox as long as they could

Make his pack hold to the line of the fox as long as they could

The late Sir Richard Sutton, Master of the Quorn, used to say that he liked to stick to the band and keep hold of the bridle, that is to say, make his pack hold to the line of the fox as long as they could; but there were times when he could not resist the temptation of a sure holloa, and off he would start at a tremendous pace, for he was always a bruising rider, with a blast or two upon his little merry-toned horn which he had the art of blowing better than other people. To his intimate friends he used to excuse himself for these occasional outbreaks by quoting a saying of his old huntsman Goosey (late the Duke of Rutland’s) for whose opinion on hunting matters he had a great respect I take leave to say, sir, a fox is a very quick animal, and you must make haste after him during some part of the day, or you will not catch him. Letter from Captain Percy Williams, Master of the Rufford Hounds, to the Editor.

Give me the man to whom nought comes amiss

Give me the man to whom nought comes amiss

Give me the man to whom nought comes amiss

Oh, give me the man to whom nought comes amiss,
One horse or another that country or this;
Through falls and bad starts who undauntedly still
Bides up to this motto, Be with them I will!
And give me the man who can ride through a run,
Nor engross to himself all the glory when done;
Who calls not each horse that o’ertakes him a screw;
Who loves a run best when a friend sees it too.
Warburton of Arley Hall.

Subdued to courageous obedience for the use of man

Subdued to courageous obedience for the use of man

Subdued to courageous obedience for the use of man

To the right-minded, as many feelings of thankfulness and praise to the Giver of all good will arise, sitting on a fiery horse, subdued to courageous obedience for the use of man, while surveying a pack of hounds ranging an autumnal thicket with fierce intelligence, or looking down on a late moorland, broken up to fertility by man’s skill and industry, as in a solitary walk by the sea-shore or over a Highland hill.

Are you of a social disposition

Are you of a social disposition

Are you of a social disposition

Are you fond of agriculture? You may survey all the progress and ignorance of an agricultural district in rides across country; you may sound the depth of the average agricultural mind while trotting from cover to cover. Are you of a social disposition? What a fund of information is to be gathered from the acquaintances made, returning home after a famous day, ‘thirty-five minutes without a check.’ In a word, fox-hunting affords exercise and healthy excitement without headaches, or heartaches, without late hours, without the ‘terrible next morning’ that follows so many town amusements. Fox-hunting draws men from towns, promotes a love of country life, fosters skill, courage, temper; for a bad-tempered man can never be a good horseman.

Read in bowers or at firesides

Read in bowers or at firesides

Read in bowers or at firesides

Talk of epic poems, read in bowers or at firesides, what poet’s description of a battle could make the blood boil in delirious excitement, like a seat on a long-striding hunter, clearing every obstacle with firm elastic bounds, holding in sight without gaining a yard on the flying pack, while the tip of Reynard’s tail disappears over the wall at the top of the hill!

And, lastly, tired, successful, hungry, happy, the return home, when the shades of evening, closing round, give a fantastic, curious, mysterious aspect to familiar road-side objects! Loosely lounging on your saddle, with half-closed eyes, you almost dream the gnarled trees grow into giants, cottages into castles, ponds into lakes. The maid of the inn is a lovely princess, and the bread and cheese she brings (while, without dismounting, you let your thirsty horse drink his gruel), tastes more delicious than the finest supper of champagne, with a pâté of tortured goose’s liver, that ever tempted the appetite of a humane, anti-fox hunting, poet-critic, exhausted by a long night of opera, ballet, and Roman punch.

Your horse as pleased as yourself

Your horse as pleased as yourself

Your horse as pleased as yourself

The morning ride, slowly pacing, full of expectation, your horse as pleased as yourself; sharp and clear in the gray atmosphere the leafless trees and white farmhouses stand out, backed by a curtain of mist hanging on the hills in the horizon. With eager eyes you take all in; nothing escapes you; you have cast off care for the day. How pleasant and cheerful everything and everyone looks! Even the cocks and hens, scratching by the road-side, have a friendly air. The turnpike-man relaxes, in favour of your ‘pink,’ his usual grimness. A tramping woman, with one child at her back and two running beside her, asks charity; you suspect she is an impostor, but she looks cold and pitiful; you give her a shilling, and the next day you don’t regret your foolish benevolence. To your mind the well-cultivated land looks beautiful. In the monotony of ten acres of turnips, you see a hundred pictures of English farming life, well-fed cattle, good wheat crops, and a little barley for beer. Not less beautiful is the wild gorse-covered moor never to be reclaimed, I hope where the wiry, white-headed, bright-eyed huntsman sits motionless on his old white horse, surrounded by the pied pack a study for Landseer.

But if the morning ride creates unexecuted cabinet pictures and unwritten sonnets, how delightful ‘the find,’ ‘the run’ along brook-intersected vales, up steep hills, through woodlands, parks, and villages, showing you in byways little gothic churches, ivy-covered cottages, and nooks of beauty you never dreamed of, alive with startled cattle and hilarious rustics.

As among most medleys of five thousand

As among most medleys of five thousand

As among most medleys of five thousand

It is true, among the five thousand who follow the hounds daily in the hunting season, there are to be found, as among most medleys of five thousand, a certain number of fools and brutes mere animals, deaf to the music, blind to the living poetry of nature. To such men hunting is a piece of fashion or vulgar excitement, but bring hunting in comparison with other amusements, and it will stand a severe test. Are you an admirer of scenery, an amateur or artist? Have you traversed Greece and Italy, Switzerland and Norway, in search of the picturesque? You do not know the beauties of your own country, until, having hunted from Northumberland to Cornwall, you have viewed the various counties under the three aspects of a fox-hunter’s day the ‘morning ride,’ ‘the run,’ and ‘the return home.’