BAILY'S MONTHLY MAGAZINE

OF

SPORTS AND PASTIMES.

SIR WILLIAM THROCKMORTON, BART.

THERE are few pleasanter hunting grounds than the country that takes its name from that White Horse' on the Berkshire hill-sidescene of many a legend told alike in history, tale, and song-which looks down over a vale gladdening to the eye both of sportsman and farmer. Formerly forming part of that wonderful old Berkeley country which was once described as beginning at Hyde Park Corner and ending at Gloucester Cathedral, it has the reputation of being a good scenting one; and Nimrod, in one of his famous tours, describes it as in parts resembling Leicestershire: There is the large grass field, the strong ox fence, the bridle road, the guide post, the windmill, and here and there a good rasping brook.' Railroads and high farming may have somewhat altered these characteristics, perhaps, but the chief of them remain. The Oxford youngsters of some thirty years ago used, in their impudence, to call the V. W. H. the very worst hunt,' a name that if it were deserved then, which we much doubt, it assuredly does not now.

The subject of our present sketch-the representative of one of the oldest Catholic families in England-the original roof tree of which was, we believe, Coughton Court, in Warwickshire, but now settled at Buckland House, near Farringdon, was born in 1838, succeeding his father Sir Robert Throckmorton, the eighth Baronet, in 1862. Early entered to hounds, when Mr. Morrell kept the Berkshire, and with five years spent in Meath and Westmeath, where he considers he learnt much under Mr. Reynell and Mr. Dease, Sir William has followed from his youth upwards the pursuits and pleasures of a country gentleman. He has raced, he has hunted, he has farmed. Never keeping many horses at a time, the 'black ' and white diamonds' have yet been seen to the fore as often as the owner of a small stud can expect, and with his two best-known animals, Referee and Balsamo-the latter trained by that accomplished gentleman jockey and good sportsman, Mr. Fothergill Rowlands, at Epsom-he won a stake or two. Balsamo was a very fair two

year-old, his best performance being in the Reading Stakes, in 1867, when he defeated Mr. Pryor's Grimston, after a fine race, by a head. Sir William has only two or three horses in training this year, and they are under the care of Weever, at Bourton.

On the resignation of Mr. Wilson, of the Mastership of the V. W. H., in 1869, Sir William Throckmorton, from his position in the county and his known attachment to the sport, was cordially welcomed as his successor. With his heart in the work before him, a good judge, riding well to hounds, and popular with all classes of hunting men, the present Master of the Vale of White Horse sits easy in his saddle of office; and though the paths of masters are said to be not always rose-strewn, we think he has but very few of the thorns. His huntsman is Robert Worrall, who learnt his business with that good teacher 'Squire' Drake; they hunt three days a week, with an occasional bye-day, and the hounds (50 couple) were bought by Sir William from Mr. Wilson.

For a Throckmorton to be a farmer is a tradition in the family; and they have been mighty breeders of Southdown sheep, taking prizes at Baker Street as well as modern Islington. The present Baronet is as fond of it as his fathers before him, and has been a successful competitor at Royal Agricultural as well as local societies.

WARE WIRE!

(A PROTEST.)

BY G. J. WHYTE-MELVILLË.

GOOD fellows, and sportsmen of every degree,
Who live by the land, will you listen to me?
To teach you your business I offer no claim,
But the man who looks on sees a deal of the game.
And your thrift while I honour, your acres admire,
I think you're mistaken to fence them with Wire!

Let us argue the point: If the stock get astray,
If the pig in a panic sets off for the day,

If a herd leaves unfolded, lamb, heifer, or steer,
If the colt from his tackle can kick himself clear,

Your truants to capture you'd hardly desire

That their hides should be torn into ribbons with Wire!

For see! The black bullock halts, shivers, and reels,
The handsome prize heifer is fast by the heels,
Entangled the wether, and mangled the ewe,

The pig becomes pork, as he chokes, pushing through,
And the horse at two hundred, to carry the Squire,
Is blemished for life while he hangs on the Wire !

Moreover-and here the shoe pinches, I know!—
You love to ride hunting, and most of you go.
When thickest the fences and quickest the burst,
'Tis a thousand to one that a farmer is first.
But I give you my honour, it makes me perspire,
To think of my neighbour turned over by Wire!

You may bore through the blackthorn, and top the oak-rail,
Here courage shall serve, and there craft can avail.
The seasoned old horse does his timber with ease;
The young ones jump water as wide as you please;
But the wisdom of age, and the four-year-old's fire,
Are helpless alike if you ride them at Wire!

Great heavens! rash man, what a crowner you come !
Your collar-bone broken, two ribs, and a thumb;
While the pride of your stable lies stretched on the plain,
And the friend of your heart never rises again;
Then bitter the curses you launch, in your ire,
At the villain who fenced his enclosure with Wire!

'Tis cruel to see, in the cream of a run,
A dozen fine fellows enjoying the fun,

Struck down at a moment to writhe in the dirt,
Dismounted, disgusted, both frightened and hurt!
While behind them a panic breaks out like a fire,
With the ominous caution- Ware Wire, sir! Ware Wire!'
No! twist us your binders as strong as you will,
We must all take our chances of cropper and spill;
There are scores of young ashes to stiffen the gaps,
And a blind double ditch is the surest of traps.
But remember, fair sportsmen fair usage require;
So Up with the timber, and Down with the Wire!

COUNTRY QUARTERS.

THE NORTH YORKSHIRE PACKS.

'LET us now turn to the packs in the north of Yorkshire,' said our friend, as we once more drew round the fire for a chat about Country Quarters. And suppose we begin with the Bedale. They hunt the country round Bedale, Thirsk, and up to Northallerton, going north as far as Uckerby, and North Cowton; on the east they are joined by the Hurworth, at Northallerton; and on the 'south they go as far as Boroughbridge; and on the west for fifteen 'or sixteen miles they can do very well, but beyond that the country ' is not rideable, being all moorland and dales.

There is no finer scenting ground in England than that part of

'the Bedale country north of the Swale, from Catterick Bridge to Morton Bridge, with Uckerby, Pepper Hall, Kiplin, and 'Cowton Whin as its favourite coverts, though it consists princi'pally of plough. The south or Ripon side is more open and easier to ride over. The west side, Hipswell, Hawkswell, and Leyburn, has more grass, but the country is rough and hilly. Round Pepper Hall there are great drains, and the scil is part stiff clay, part peat, black and boggy, but it carries a good scent. This country is very remarkable for its variety of soil. The Hutton Moor part is light and sandy, while the western part up to the moors is grass. The low country is very deep, and bites 'tremendously on the horses; about Hawkswell and the Leyburn 'Moors there are stone walls, and the fences generally want 'jumping, except round Boroughbridge, where a horse can gallop through most of them without any fear of falling. There is a nice bit all round Catterick.'

6

"They seem to have country suited to all tastes.'

Nearly so; and, on the whole, the Bedale is better than the Bramham Moor, or the York and Ainsty; and by some it is 'preferred to the Holderness, notwithstanding the great reputation the latter has enjoyed, as not being so heavy. The River Wiske runs right through the north side of the country, and has frequently been jumped above Kirby Bridge. It is said that Mr. Roper of Richmond tried it below Hutton Bonville, but went bang in, and 'it took two cart horses to get him out. Near Richmond is a place 'called "Willan's Leap," from a man who fell down a drop of sixty feet at Whitley Scar. The horse, a racer in training which ran away, was killed, and the rider broke his legs. As it was very 'cold, he cut his horse open and put his legs inside, and stayed in that predicament two or three days, until found by shepherds who were looking for some sheep.'

'A most extraordinary circumstance!'

'Yes; and still more extraordinary escape on the man's side.' 'What are considered the best meets of the Bedale?'

'On the north of the Swale, Pepper Hall, Hutton Bonville, Scorton, and Kiplin; while on the south, Scruton Hall, Newton House, Norton Conyers, Baldersby Park, the residence of Lady Downe, and Newby Hall, that of Lady Mary Vyner, are all ' noted.'

、

'Is it a subscription pack?'

'Yes, now; but it was hunted up to 1832 by the Duke of 'Cleveland, who then gave up the country south of Catterick Bridge. It was then offered to the Duke of Leeds, who had 'hunted it for some years before the Duke of Cleveland took it, 'but he declined it; and Mr. Mark Milbanke of Thorpe Perrow, a 'son-in-law of the Duke of Cleveland, and who always led the way ' with the old Raby hounds, took it. He hunted the hounds him'self, and was aided by George Barwick from the Puckeridge, who finally hunted them until he drowned himself in a fish-pond, the