“I think the whips knew about as much about hunting as I did, but, as far as I remember, it was roughly the usual way to have one whip somewhat wide and forward on each flank and one with me to stop hounds running heel or a fresh hare. On account of the short time for hunting, we took every possible advantage of a hare and never allowed hounds to potter. We lifted hounds and cut off corners when the chance occurred, but I don’t think it was done enough to stop hounds hunting well. We had to run risks, as it was very difficult to catch a hare in the time allowed between Absence and lock-up. I don’t remember for certain which was the best country; it is too long ago; but think it was towards Maidenhead. I don’t remember any trouble with the farmers, but we got into a deuce of a row with an old gentleman once for killing one of his hares in the middle of March. It was a long day with Mr. Vidal, and I had to go over on Sunday and apologise to the old boy and he became friendly, but I missed Chapel and had to square the Praepostor—wasn’t that the name of the cove who marked you in or out? I think we used to reckon that we went to the meet at about seven miles an hour. May I venture to express the opinion that hunting the hare on foot with 15-inch beagles is real hunting, and real sport, and that the hare has a very good chance of escaping, especially after Christmas? As I dare say you know, a hare is a much more tricky animal to hunt than a fox.” Hunt’s personality was amazing. He had a way which carried all before it. He was versatile, and, as well as being a wonderful runner, he was an excellent shot, a fearless rider and a good fisherman. He was, moreover, a keen politician, even while at Eton, and has only just given up taking an active share in the politics of the country. Hunt was a good rider and used to hunt the Wheatland hounds on Arab horses. Some one remarked that “to see him charging great hairy fences was a sight for the gods!” At Cambridge one day he saw a mounted farmer. “Hi, you elderly, yellow-bellied oyster,” shouted he, “have you seen our hare?” Naturally the farmer was offended, but Hunt smoothed over the difficulty and explained it away by saying that it was one of his most endearing epithets. And now after not having hunted for some twenty years, he has again taken on the Mastership of the Wheatland hounds. He hunts them himself with two amateur whippers-in. Hunt was a wonderful runner at Eton. In 1876 he won the Steeplechase with consummate ease, after having lost a shoe early in the race. There was a rule in those days that no one who had previously won a race was allowed to enter for that race next year. Hunt in 1877 started for the Steeplechase in full school dress and finished an easy first, clearing the School Jump at the finish so as not to wet his clothes.