“On one of those rare but memorable occasions when the writer was handling the hounds, a yokel possessed of no sporting or manly instincts struck the exhausted hare with a spade and hid it in a cart. The huntsman with the aid of his Beckford perceived what had happened, and boldly and determinedly wrested the hare from the yokel and gave it to the hounds, thus fulfilling the loftiest instinct of venery. “All concerned enjoyed the sport. The hounds obviously, the fox because he knew that he could baffle his pursuers, and the boys because it called for the exercise of skill, sight, intellect and endurance. Above all Joby Minor because he drew a salary. “It is recorded that on one occasion a beagle entered the schoolroom in Schoolyard of Mr. William Johnson, a kind, eccentric, but very short-sighted Master. Forty voices, gratuitously and somewhat officiously, informed him of the patent fact, causing a requisite but temporary cessation of work. His reply was: ‘Stop. I will deal with the intruder.’ He seized a large key, gazed steadily and threw it in exactly the opposite direction to the spot on which the unconcerned hound was sniffing the untainted air. Due notice was taken by the class and the Master adequately informed.” During the Mastership of H. M. Meysey-Thompson the kennels were improved considerably, and he presented the pack with the first “copper” that they ever had for cooking the hound food. They had a fairly good season, and some interesting runs are recorded in the diary which has been lent me by Col. R. F. Meysey-Thompson. Here is one of the most remarkable: “_Tuesday, Jan. 19th._ Had a bag-fox. A bright day but a good many clouds about and a splendid scent. Turned him down by Crosse’s Farm. Away he went, past the river jump into the road leading to Aldridge’s, down which he went to the left till he came to the grass field there, up which he turned to the left through Aldridge’s rushy field straight for Dorney, where he was coursed by some greyhounds, but he went away through Burnham Abbey, when he turned to the left to Maidenhead. Here he was headed and turned to the right to the gardens at Burnham (which are about two miles distant from the Abbey), where we lost him. Distance about seven miles. Time, 40 minutes. Crosse was riding, and said it was all he could do to keep up. He said Ferryman and Boscoe led the whole way. We who were running got in about twenty minutes after. Only about twelve out of a field of about forty showed up at the end. We were obliged to get into a cab, as many of us as could, and just got back for absence.”