“When I was whip to Dan Lascelles we met at Dorney Common and ran a hare up to Orkney Cottage near Maidenhead, and back down the side of the river, and eventually picked her up stone dead in a cottage garden on Dorney Common; she was as stiff as a post. I believe the time was 1 hour 20 minutes, but am not sure; it was a hot day and the pace very fast. “The same year, when hunting a hare at Salt Hill, the hounds brought her back close to the Field, and a cad killed her dead with a stone at about 20 yards. I broke my whip across his shins. “Frequently when we went into the kennel Lock would come out of the Turkish Bath with nothing whatever on, and with a mop in his hand which he occasionally spun like a torpedo at a hound that happened to be fighting or even scratching. “One of his favourite expressions out hunting was ‘Pop your whip, Sir; pop your whip.’ “On one occasion, when we had found at Turner’s Nurseries we ran the hare back, and found Lock very busy stopping up the holes in the fence, so that if she ran in she would find it difficult to get out. “On another occasion we ran a hare dead beat into these same nurseries, and Lock stood quite still in the rows of young green trees, about 18 inches high and very thick, and as the hare came jumping along the rows, which she had to do as they were so thick, he hit at her, but mistimed it and missed her, much to his disgust. “I was hunting the beagles one day when we ran a hare to the river about 50 yards above the Victoria Bridge. She plunged in, with every hound after her, and it was a very pretty sight to see hare and hounds all in the river together. She swam under the bridge, and they were gaining on her fast and were just about to catch her about 6 feet from the bank. Seeing this, I got hold of a bush with one hand and tried to save the hare with the other. I got hold of something by the ear, but when I pulled it out it was one of the hounds, and we never saw the hare again. I _was_ disgusted, especially as I lost my hold and fell into the river, going clean under.” Parker had hard luck in his second season owing to the floods, which are always liable to be bad in the low-lying Thames Valley. Indeed, during the great flood of 1894, Sayer, who now holds the post of verger in Chapel, swam across the road outside Baldwin’s Bec (then Mr. H. E. Luxmoore’s, now Mr. Stone’s) and back before breakfast on one pleasant November morning.