“Our Van.”

Racing.

Quite a fillip, which was very welcome, was given to racing under National Hunt Rules during the week which included the last days of January and the first days of February. Gatwick began it, and, with two stakes of £500 each, and the minimum of £100 only once not reached, success was well deserved. One doubts whether much profit can accrue from a meeting run on these liberal lines in winter. The meeting had been brought forward from March with the view of steering clear of the whirlpool which, later on, draws everything that can jump into the Grand National. The experiment must be deemed successful, for horses were numerous on each of the two days, whilst the public turned up in good numbers in anticipation of sport that was not denied them. One felt almost as though attending at a revival, so mediocre and tame had been much of the racing earlier in the jumping season. On the first day the chief item was the Tantivy Steeplechase, and in this the five-year-old Sachem, who had shown ability over hurdles, winning two hurdle races at the Sandown Park December Meeting, one of them the Grand Annual Hurdle Handicap, came out as a steeplechaser for the first time in public. He did so with conspicuous success, for he was carrying 11st. 10lb. and won in excellent style. By far too many people knew that he had been fencing in good form at home for the price about him to be long, and only the presence of Rathvale prevented him from starting favourite. On the second day came the International Hurdle Handicap, and in this Isinglass’ son, Leviathan, did well by carrying home 11st. 12lb. to victory.

Kempton Park followed on in the same liberal style, and met the same degree of success. The £500 race on the first day was the Middlesex Hurdle race, in which that expensive purchase, Sandboy, who had won a couple of hurdle races, was running, weighted the same as The Chair. The last-named always had the foot of Sandboy, being sent on a pace-making mission which he carried out with such effect as to lead to within twenty strides of the post. A sudden dash by Therapia, however, gave her the race by a neck; and whether the rider of The Chair was caught napping is a question upon which no agreement is likely to come about. On the second day, John M.P. created a great impression by the way he won the Coventry Handicap Steeplechase, named after the Earl of Coventry, carrying 12st. 2lb. The way he strode along and jumped made one think of Aintree, but two miles over ordinary fences is a very different story to four and a half miles of the Grand National staggerers. If John M.P. proves to be a genuine stayer, then he must have a great chance. The only previous outing this season of John M.P. was a hurdle-race under 12st. 7lb.

Sandown came in for some icy weather for its February Meeting. Over the three miles of the Burwood Steeplechase Ranunculus did a very smooth performance, but had nothing to push him, much less beat him. In winning the Sandown Grand Prize, a Handicap Hurdle Race, under 12st. 7lb., Rassendyl showed himself improved out of all knowledge, and scored his fourth consecutive win out of four times out. Mr. Stedall is persevering enough to deserve a good one now and then.

At Hurst Park the next week a splendid entry was obtained for the Open Steeplechase, but the race fizzled out to a field of three, and of these Kirkland was as fat as the proverbial pig, though looking extremely well. John M.P. gained a very easy win from Desert Chief, who, besides chancing his fences in a way that spells grief at Aintree, altogether failed to get three miles.

It is not unlikely that some clerks of courses will, in the future, make a slight alteration in the distance of some of their handicap steeplechases, so as to escape the action of the new conditions for the Grand National, one of which penalises a winner of a handicap steeplechase over a distance exceeding three miles 6 lb. extra. Winners of any two steeplechases of three miles or over are penalised 4lb.

Hunting.

For the sport of the month past we have nothing but praise. It has been one of those months which live in the memory of hunting people. The principal chases of which we have to write are notable alike for pace and for duration, the Cottesmore on three consecutive weeks having enjoyed runs which were of the kind which for want of a better word we must call “old-fashioned,” in that they lasted over an hour and covered a great variety of country.

I may repeat here, because it is a remark which cannot be gainsaid, and is not without its moral, that those countries have much the best sport which have the largest stock of foxes. The reasons for this are clear and I think easy to see on reflection, that where foxes are numerous hounds have plenty of blood, and there is a wider field for natural selection in improving the breed of foxes. Sport, as might be expected, steadily improves as the season goes on, the bad foxes are weeded out, and their places are often taken by more mature animals from other countries. Whether foxes are or are not bred in a covert it will never want foxes if suitable in the shelter and food it affords. The best of the Cottesmore runs which must be placed on record, was the one from Prior’s Coppice on Tuesday, January 23rd. There have been longer points and straighter runs than this, but none where a better pace was sustained over a beautiful but not easy country for a prolonged time.

Many days have threatened fog or frost in the mornings, and yet have been pleasant enough before the day was over. So it was on January 23rd. The morning fog was cold and discouraging. How true is Whyte Melville’s saying, that “Courage is a question of caloric.” Prior’s Coppice was reached, and though hounds left some at least of their followers at a disadvantage, yet when once clear of the covert it was clear that hounds were bending left handed. By the time Cole’s Lodge was reached the pack had started to hunt at a good pace, and the field were in their places. Those who had galloped to reach hounds had now to sit down to ride to keep with the pack. A slight turn helped. Then came a climb that made one feel the advantage of after-Christmas condition. Before Christmas a horse that had climbed the Hog’s Back would have needed a pull, now we can ask him to gallop freely.

The fox worked as if Wardley Wood was his point, but his strength began to fail, and he turned away before he crossed the road. Hounds swung round with him, and it was the pressure they exercised that defeated him. Now he began to turn and twist, but still keeping out of the way of hounds in the most gallant fashion. He was actually in the brook with the hounds, and at last crawled into Manton Gorse, from which he came out to die. An hour and three quarters of the best country, and at a pace that found out the weak points of many horses. Those who rode it fairly on one horse knew that they had to quote Whyte Melville once more, “not merely a good hunter, but a good horse.”

To find any run equal to this we have to go back to the Pytchley hunt after a meet at Weedon Barracks, on Friday, January 12th. In this case hounds hunted a fox which has, it is believed, run before them once at least before this season. This great hunt lasted at least for two hours, and there was just that amount of difficulty and hindrance for followers in the early stages that enabled hounds to settle down to their work. There was much heavy going, too; horses began to stop before, near Ashby Ledgers, hounds on the grass began to run away from them. Near Daventry wire cut the huntsman off from hounds, and with a beaten fox crawling in front hounds lost him after all.

The best Wednesday was at Yelvertoft. The fox an out-lier, hounds laid on in a grass field over which the fox had run a minute or two before. Fences that held up the boldest, while hounds settled down, made a hunt a certainty. There were a good many casualties at the flooded streams.

Never touching a covert and running fairly straight hounds ran on by Naseby Covert; there were two lines here, and hounds no doubt took up the fresh one. An eight-mile point in an hour tells of a first-rate hunting run. Another half-hour and the fox that intervened paid the penalty with his life. One of the great events of the hunting season is the Quorn Hunt Ball. This year more than 300 people gathered in the Corn Exchange at Melton, a gathering which included hunting people from many parts of the world and all parts of England. It often happens that show days are below the average of the sport usually shown. But Captain Forester, who was hunting the hounds, was fortunate in finding a fox which, if it made no great point, showed to the visitors a fine selection of the famous riding grounds of the Quorn hunt.

The fixture after the ball, on Friday, February 2nd, was at Egerton Lodge, which has been with so many generations the social centre of the hunting world. This was appropriate, and so was the drawing of the Hartopp coverts at Gartree Hill, and the visit of the fox to the Punch Bowl, his timely excursion over the Burton Flats, which is, perhaps, to the stranger the simplest form of Leicestershire. After running through Adam’s Gorse the fox led the visitors into an almost perfect region of grass and fences.

Altogether it was a day of which one could remark that anyone who rode the line faithfully would have a fair idea of what hunting with the Quorn meant.

On Saturday, February 3rd, Tom Bishopp once more carried the horn after being laid by with influenza. The Normanton Hill coverts held a traveller. For an hour and forty minutes hounds drove their fox over a country which is for Leicestershire rather given over to arable. But scent and a fairly straight line helped them, and when the end came at Broughton Station they were nearly eleven miles from their starting point, and had been going for an hour and three quarters. Thus the pace must have been good. This was the straightest run of the whole week if we except the Duke of Beaufort’s two gallops after meeting at Cherrington on February 2nd in the Tetbury country. Hounds dashed away for four miles. They were stopped and brought back. A third fox proved equally good, for he led them right away into the choicest of the V.W.H., the followers enjoying a variety of fencing, beginning with stone walls, and including the rough hedges sometimes set on banks, and the wide ditches of the vale country. The Duke’s country and the V.W.H. ride deep in wet weather, but they also carry a scent under such conditions. Hounds had come some nine miles in a direct line before they turned and came back by Charlton Park. But in point of distance the run of the month was in the remote district of East Cornwall, where hounds are hunted by Mr. Connock Marshall, and Mr. Philpotts Williams controls the field. It was in Torr Brake the fox was found, and a ring was worked out without any extraordinary promise. On leaving the covert again the scent improved, and from that point onwards hounds were well served. Even supposing, of which there is no certainty, that they came away from Torr the second time with a fresh fox, it was a marvellous run and a wonderful instance of endurance for fox and hounds. It was not till two hours and a half were over that hounds began to run for blood, and near Berry Tor the leaders caught a view, and ran into a most gallant fox that struggled to the very last. It is said that twenty-five miles was covered as hounds ran, and if this is correct the pace was fast, as the run lasted under two hours and three-quarters from find to finish.

The Woodland Pytchley had what may be described rather as a very excellent day’s hunting (on Feb. 5th) than as a great run. They were stopped at the end of five hours, having been hunting all the time. But there were several changes, how many it would be difficult to say, since such fox-haunted coverts as Rushton, Pipewell, Brampton, and Dingley Warren, were some of the coverts visited during the day. It was a remarkable performance for the hounds, and, like the run last mentioned, speaks volumes for the kennel management of the pack.

Staghounds have, like the foxhounds, had a capital month. Mr. Stanley brought off a notable performance on the Brendon Hills. He found a hind, and hunted her for four hours with a moderate scent. The hounds worked well, and their admirable condition carried them through. But we know, of course, that much in these cases depends on the combination of patience and promptness in the man who hunts them. The point was that there was no change in spite of the danger of this on the moorland at this time of year. That the chase of the carted deer has some points of resemblance with that of their wild kindred, is shown by the experience of the Surrey Staghounds when visiting the Kentish side of their country. They had two admirable runs, and in both the quarry ran into herds of park deer, the second one having to be left in Knole Park after a fine chase of two and a half hours. It seems as if there was no limit to the powers of a red deer hind in the winter, so that as the old huntsman used to say, “She can run so long as she have a mind to.”

The changes among masters which January brings are not very numerous. None of the leading hunts are vacant, and some of those which were in want of new masters have succeeded in finding them. The latest resignations are from Hampshire, where Mr. F. L. Swindell and Mr. Yorke Scarlett are resigning the Hursley and the Tedworth. In no county are shooting and hunting more likely to clash than in Hampshire. Moreover, the county is a difficult one to hunt, yet the various packs, including the Hambledon, the H.H., and the Vine have had a good season on the whole. No doubt the plentiful rain has helped to bring about this result. But good masters and huntsmen such as Hampshire has throughout its hunting history had quite its share of having helped this result greatly. Mr. Long, the grandson of a former master of the Hambledon, will, it is said, take the Hursley. In the north Mr. J. B. Pease succeeds Mr. Alec Browne with the Percy. In the Midlands, Sir J. Hume Campbell buys Mr. McNeill’s famous bitch pack with which to hunt North Cotswold, to the great satisfaction of the country. Among huntsmen the changes are neither few nor unimportant. It is said that Gosden will leave the Meynell; it is certain that John Isaac retires from the Pytchley after twenty-six years of faithful and efficient service with that pack. He will be succeeded by Frank Freeman, a son of the Will Freeman whom I recollect with the South and West Wilts. Gillson, a son of George Gillson of the Cottesmore, who has been hunting the last-named pack with great success, is to follow Freeman in the Bedale country. I can recollect him a mere lad as second whipper-in to Shepherd, so long with the South Oxfordshire. Gillson has not forgotten, I dare say, the queer-tempered horse he used to ride, and the kicking matches which, though unpleasant when he wanted to turn hounds, no doubt helped to make him the horseman he is.

The death of Charles Littleworth, formerly huntsman to the fifth Earl of Portsmouth, removes from hunting circles one of the best judges of foxhounds and terriers, and a most admirable woodland huntsman. Of those I have known in a lengthening experience none were better than the late Lord Macclesfield and Charles Littleworth at hunting a fox in strong woodlands. Both, I think, liked a big dog-hound for the work. The blood of the Eggesford kennels, as it was in Lord Portsmouth’s time, runs in the veins of many of the best packs of the present day, the Badminton and the Four Burrow each owing something to the Eggesford kennel. Then the famous pack with which Sir Richard Glyn and John Press hunted the Blackmore Vale owed much to the lucky cross of the Portsmouth Commodore with Mr. Villebois’ Matchless. But this is too large a subject for such notes as these. As a breeder of working terriers Charles Littleworth had no superior and few equals, as those who have had the luck to own one of his strain will bear witness.

The death of Lady Howe removes one who as a sportswoman stood among the first. It is only as a rider to hounds that I have to write of her in these columns. It has been my good fortune to see all the leading riders to hounds of the last twenty years, and among them there was none better than Lady Georgiana Curzon. It used to be said that there were five ladies who stood out as riders to hounds, and the late Lady Howe was one of the best of these.

Hunting in Yorkshire.

We have had an open January, hounds having only missed an odd day here and there, and it is not till the day that these notes are written that we have had any real wintry weather, though for a few days previous keen northeasterly winds and flying showers of hail and sleet have shown that there was frost and snow coming. Should the stoppage be a short one, sport will undoubtedly benefit, and there will be a good tale to tell in the April number of Baily. Sport, on the whole, has not been great since I last wrote, though there have been a few runs which stand out, notably a moorland run with the Cleveland, in which a good point was made and a lot of difficult country covered. Before proceeding, however, with a record of the sport, some coming changes should be referred to. Fred Freeman, who leaves the Bedale, will hunt the Pytchley next season, and I am told that his uncle, Dick Freeman, who has shown such excellent sport in the North Durham country for so many years, will retire at the end of the season. An item of news which will please all his many friends is that Tom Smith, of the Bramham Moor, has returned from his short visit to Blackpool fully restored to health.

Lord Fitzwilliam’s had a famous day’s sport on Wednesday, January 10th, when they met at the Oaks, Norton, on the Derbyshire side of their country. In Whenacre they found a strong show of foxes and hounds divided, one lot running by Sicklebrook to Troway, where they marked their fox to ground. With this lot were Bartlett and the bulk of the field. The other lot ran through the Norton Coverts, and turning to the right from Gleadless Toll Bar, they rattled on to Hazelhurst, where Bartlett came up with the rest of the pack, and they ran on at a good pace past Lightwood to Charnock Hall. Some foot people on the hill headed the fox and brought hounds to their noses, and they hunted slowly down the valley and through the Royal Wood, where they worked up to their fox, and rolled him over near Ford, after a fine hunting run of an hour and a half. A capital forty-five minutes from Hanging Lea by Hackenthorpe Church and Birley Spa, and the Beighton Gorse to Beighton Village, where they marked their fox to ground, made up a good day’s sport.

The Bramham Moor had some fine hunting in the cream of their country on Friday, January 12th, when they met at Hutton Hall. There was a brace of foxes in Hutton Thorns, with one of which they went away to Collier Haggs with a rare rattle, but the fun was soon over, for he went to ground near where they met. The other fox was viewed at Marston Village, and Smith went to the hollow. Of course he was a long way ahead, but hunting with the perseverance for which they are so famous, hounds hunted him slowly back to Hutton Thorns and over the Marston Road, and a couple of wide rings round to Hutton Thorns again, where he beat them. They ran a second fox from White Syke Whin, leaving Wilstrop Wood on the right, up to Skewkirk Bridge, and along the Nidd Banks for half a mile, where hounds were stopped, as the fox had crossed the river into the York and Ainsty country.

They had another good day on Thursday, January 18th, when they met at Deighton Bar, the day of the fixture being changed on account of the Barkston Ash election. They had rather a long draw for the country, for they did not find till they got to Igmanthorpe Willow Garth. They ran hard by Bickerton and Minster Hagg up to the Cowthorpe and Tockwith road, where the first check took place. Hitting off the line over the road, they ran down to the Nidd, which they crossed midway between Cattail Bridge and Hunsingore. No sooner had they crossed the river than they recrossed it, and they hunted down the banks of the Nidd with a failing scent to Thornville Old Hall. Thence they swung round in the direction of Tockwith, and finally were run out of scent between Minster Hagg and Bickerton. A heavy snowstorm drove them home as they were about to draw the Thorp Arch coverts.

The Hurworth had a rare day from Crathorne on Saturday, January 13th, running over some of the finest country in the north of Yorkshire. They found in Trenholme Bar Whin, and ran by Crathorne and Mr. Dugdale’s coverts to Leven Banks, and on to Crathorne Mill, where they crossed the Leven and pointed for Hutton Rudby. Leaving Rudby Wood on the right, they skirted Windy Hill, and with a right hand turn below Seamer Village, they ran by Tame Bridge, and over the Stokesley Road up to Busby, finally marking their fox to ground in Carlton Bank in the Bilsdale country. This is the second time the Hurworth have run into the Cleveland west country, and it recalls old days when visits were constantly paid to each other’s countries by the neighbouring packs, and the best of sport was shown by the stout foxes for which both districts were then famous.

The great moorland run with the Cleveland took place on Monday, January 22nd, when hounds met at Kilton. The morning was dull, and there was a little fog about, and at times the mist hung thick on the moor, and getting to hounds over the rough country crossed was no easy matter. They found under Howson’s Nab, and ran sharply up to Liverton Lodge, where they turn right-handed up Church Gill to Liverton Village. They left Porritt Hagg to the right, and ran up Moorsholme Gill and on to the moor. Then crossing the Peat Bogs and the Castleton Road, they pointed for Skelton Warren, but swung left-handed before reaching Lockwood Head, and crossing Commondale Moor they ran by North Ings and Sleddale Bog, and through Percy Cross Plantation into Nanny Howe, where the fox probably got to ground, and hounds went away with a fresh fox over Ayton Banks and into Brown’s Intake, where they divided. One lot ran to the top of Roseberry where there were open earths, but they did not mark the fox to ground. A holloa for’ard at Langbarough Ridge, took hounds into the low country, but this was evidently a fresh fox, and the rest of the pack ran a very tired fox by Pinchinthorpe Hall and Ward’s Farm, but he was a long way ahead, and they had to give it up. Only four men got to the end. I should add that I never remember hounds running from Kilton to Cook’s Monument, nor do I remember coming across any record of the same line being crossed.

Death of Mr. E. A. Nepean.

On January 20th, after a brief illness, the cause of death being influenza followed by pneumonia, this celebrated cricketer passed away at Clarence House, Windsor.

Mr. Evan Alcock Nepean was the eldest son of Sir Evan Nepean, at one time Director of Army Contracts; he was born in 1865, and educated at Sherborne School and University College, Oxford. He went up to Oxford from a very moderate school with something of a reputation as a steady batsman and an eccentric bowler, with not much length and a curl from leg.

This was in 1886, and Mr. Nepean playing for his college eleven had to endure the mortification of standing about in the field during long afternoons watching the chastisement of very moderate bowlers by moderate enough batsmen.

Mr. Nepean was an early apostle of the twisting methods which have since won such renown for Warwick Armstrong, Braund, and many another; but in the dark ages of the middle ’eighties he had to plead hard to be allowed to bowl an over or two, so great was the contempt inspired by his so-called “Donkey Drops” or “Cock-a-doodles.” But sometimes his frequent request to be allowed to bowl was listened to, and historically was this the case in 1887 in the Parks at Oxford, when he was playing in a trial match for the Etceteras against the Perambulators. The academic and fast-footed methods of the, for that day, at any rate, much miscalled Perambulators led to their downfall at the fingers of the leg-twister, and in a brief summer afternoon Mr. Evan Nepean had fully established his claim to be regarded as a bowler to be reckoned with, although but for his batting ability it is possible that he would never have had an opportunity of bowling an over in first-class cricket.

The success of his methods, at that time regarded as barbaric and unfashionable, led to his gaining a trial for the ’Varsity team, and it was found that the best professional batsmen did not relish the task of fencing with his insidious deliveries. “It may be awful tosh, but it gets them out,” was the verdict of the Oxonians; and so Mr. Nepean having twisted himself into the Oxford eleven of 1887, took five Cambridge wickets at a cost of 83 runs, and going in first scored 58 not out, when the Dark Blues went in to get the runs and won by seven wickets. The astute intelligence which at that time controlled the fortunes of Middlesex cricket speedily retained the eccentric bowler for county purposes, and from 1887 regularly until 1889, and after his call to the Bar intermittently for a few years, Mr. Nepean rendered great service both with bat and ball to the cosmopolitan county.

The season 1889 was the most successful Mr. Nepean enjoyed; he headed the Middlesex averages with 41 wickets, at an average cost of just over 18 runs apiece, and in that year he played for the Gentlemen against the Players at Lord’s, Kennington Oval, and Hastings. It was against professional batsmen that he had his most marked successes, and the great Notts batsmen of that day, including Arthur Shrewsbury and William Gunn, at the top of their form, would often fall a prey to his insidious twisters; in fact, his record for Middlesex against Notts in 1889 was 12 wickets for 88 runs, at a time when Notts was one of the strongest batting sides in the country. To a batsman quick on his legs the bowling of Mr. Nepean presented few terrors, but to the academic player accustomed to stand fast-footed in his ground and play gracefully forward or back, the Shirburnian proved a severe thorn in the flesh. As a batsman he displayed little of the enterprise associated with his bowling methods, but his stolid defence often realised a good score, for he was never in any hurry, and did not believe in sacrificing his wicket.

Mr. Nepean was an industrious barrister, with a good and growing practice, and had for some years held the post of revising barrister for one of the Metropolitan divisions.

By his death a distinguished cricket career was terminated, and a most promising professional career was cut short.

The Grand Prix at Monte Carlo.

Mr. Mackintosh, the Australian, was once more favourite for the £1,100 and Trophy, which entitles its holder to claim to be the best shot in the world.

The accident of England being the only country in the world which makes driving more fashionable than walking up game, has taught young shooters here that pigeon shooting is not now good practice for game killing. On the other hand, clay-bird shooting at the clubs is good practice for pigeons, and so it happens that the man who seemed to have the only chance of winning for England at the end of the seventh round of the Grand Prix was a clay-bird shooter of pronounced success, viz., Mr. Cave. This was also true of the last Englishman to win the trophy, viz., Captain Pellier Johnson.

On the other hand, the most successful Englishman in the present season at Monte Carlo has been a regular Hurlingham and Gun Club pigeon-shooter for many years. This is Mr. Hodgson Roberts, who took the Prix Journu Handicap from the extreme range of 30 metres with 15 straight kills on January 9th, and on January 30th won the Grande Poule d’Essai, an even distance event, with 19 consecutive kills. Nevertheless, the betting for the bigger event favoured Mr. Mackintosh all through the season, although in the last-named event he had killed but four birds, and had not been either lucky or great during the season. His principal triumph was the Prix Myosotis Handicap, which he divided from the 31 metres mark, but with only 7 kills; the famous French shooter, M. Journu, being in with him from the 29½ metres distance. On January 15th Mr. Roberts and Mr. C. Robinson (the latter representing America) had won the Prix H. Grasselli, with a run of eight kills each. This prize is named after the victor in 1902 and 1905, and should have its amount multiplied by three in future years, as an honour to the Italian shooter who has become the first three-times-victor, who also has won twice consecutively, for, in spite of the penalty distance, he has now won a third time. Surely where pigeon shooting counts as a proof of marksmanship he must be held to be the greatest shot in the world. The triumph of Italy was almost a foregone conclusion when Mr. Cave failed for England at his eighth bird, but it was not Signor H. Grasselli who the Italians backed then, but his runner-up last year. This was Signor Marconcini, who, having killed his eleventh bird without a a miss, went to the traps with £1,100 and the trophy trembling in the balance against the life of one pigeon. Nerves were on the side of the latter, which was, however, an easy bird and feathered by both barrels, but fell dead just the wrong side of the boundary, which made all the difference to Signor Marconcini, who was not even amongst the six victors in the end. The betting at the start was 100 to 7 Mackintosh, 20 to 1 against H. Grasselli, last year’s victor, and then 25 to 1 was obtained about Roberts, Robinson, and P. Thellusson. The first named of these three missed his first bird, and the last named his second. Probably the betting really indicates the status of the shooters quite as much as the chances of war and eventual victory, and for that reason it may be added that 33 to 1 was to be had against Journu, Marconcini, Wilder, Lazzara, Habite, Moore, Huet, and F. Thellusson, and 50 to 1 each against Chiannini, Bruce, Moncorge, Hans, Marsh, H. Cave, C. Cave, Webb, Horadetski and Rosslyn, and 66 to 1 against any others. As there were 175 shooters, it cannot be said that the odds were upon the liberal side. The strength of the birds and some wind soon settled the chances of more than three parts of the competitors, but those who had the luck to get to the last day had no wind to contend with, although the birds were of the best throughout. Of course the entry was the record, for in spite of our insular prejudice the event grows in importance. Signor H. Grasselli won with 19 kills in 20 birds; Signor Bordoni killed 18 out of 20 birds and took second, and Dom Luro, from Brazil, with 16 out of 18 obtained third place. The fourth prize was secured by 15 out of 16 shots by three shooters, who divided, these were two Italians and one Frenchman, so that there were four Italian victors out of six. The fourth men were Signor Chirericati, Signor Schianini, and Count Lazzana. The victories are now twelve times for England, all but three of them in the first half of the competitions, twelve for Italy, all but three of these being the last half of the annual events. Four times Frenchmen won. Three times Austria and Hungary have taken the trophy. Twice it has been won by Belgium, and Spain has taken it once, as also has the United States, which was in the year of its initiation. America, for different reasons to England (for game driving is unknown there) seems to have dropped almost out of the competition, although it is probable that the best pigeon shots are to be found in that country. At any rate, the best clay-bird shots are, and the ease with which they overthrew the English team in which Mr. Cave shot a few years ago will hardly be forgotten, and they did it with one barrel against the English two.

Golf.

The General Election took from the membership of the House of Commons several good golfers, including Mr. Arthur Balfour, Mr. Gerald Balfour, and Mr. Alfred Lyttelton, and made only one notable addition, namely, Mr. Frank Newnes, the new member for the Bassetlaw Division of Notts. The two best players at Westminster, Mr. Eric Hambro and Mr. H. W. Forster, retained their seats.

The Walton Heath Club has inaugurated a competition which promises to excite much interest among London golfers. The competition is for a challenge trophy presented by the club, and is confined to clubs whose headquarters are within thirty miles of Charing Cross. Each club will provide a professional and an amateur player, or two amateurs, and the couple will play a two-ball foursome on a neutral green, until the final round is reached, when the play must take place on Walton Heath. If the response to the invitation for entries is at all general there will be fine play, for the London clubs include some of the best players, amateur and professional, in the country. The latter include Harry Vardon, James Braid, J. H. Taylor, Jack White and Rowland Jones; while among the former are Mr. H. H. Hilton, Mr. Harold Beveridge, Mr. W. Herbert Fowler, and Mr. T. R. Pinkerton.

Four professionals from this country, Jack White, Alexander Herd, Andrew Kirkaldy and Rowland Jones, went to Mexico and took part in the championship meeting there. They, however, found the conditions far from their liking, and made an indifferent show. The championship was won by Willie Smith, an old Carnoustie player, who has been some time in America, and can play on sand greens. A team competition was arranged, but in this the home professionals did no better than in the championship play. Andrew Kirkaldy had for opponent Bernard Nicholls, the young professional who beat Harry Vardon twice in America. Nicholls on this occasion defeated Kirkaldy by two holes.

Harry Vardon is staying at La Touquet this winter for his health, and has distinguished himself by making a record score for the course of 68. This indicates surely that his health is mending.

A scheme has been started for the laying out of a full golf course at Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, and the conversion of Norris Castle into a clubhouse, with bedrooms for the accommodation of golfers as well as yachtsmen.

“His House in Order,” at the St. James’s Theatre.

Following the great success of “Nero” comes the marked success of Pinero, and Mr. George Alexander is to be congratulated upon the reception which his recent production has received from public and critics alike.

Mr. Pinero rising, phœnix-like, from the ashes of “The Wife without a Smile,” has, according to many intelligent playgoers, soared to a greater height than ever before, and people have not hesitated to declare “His House in Order” to be a finer play than “The Second Mrs. Tanqueray.”

A few years ago Mr. Pinero was reported to have said, upon some public occasion, that what a dramatist requires is praise. Our leading playwright ought just now to be like the little boy in the advertisement, “He is happy now he has got it.”

With everybody loud in their praises of the play, we have to ask for sympathy in the disappointment we suffered on seeing it. We have always been full of admiration for Mr. Pinero’s genius, and having been told to expect so much of his latest work, we were discontented with what we saw and heard. To begin with, we could not find in the play one single character with whom we could sympathise or whose cause we could espouse with any enthusiasm.

Nina is presumably meant to appeal to the sympathies of the audience, but, after all, her only claim to this appears to be that she is mortified and distressed by the brutality of the relatives of the first wife of her husband. Nina Jesson seems to be just a middle-class little thing who, entering the Jesson household as governess, marries Jesson on the death of his first wife.

She is devoted to ill-mannered dogs, which she would love to encourage about the house; she is a confirmed cigarette-smoker, having been instructed in this accomplishment by her father, the clergyman, and she appears to be untidy, unpunctual, and generally impossible; whilst she is sneak enough to read other people’s letters and to use them for her own ends. And so to keep Jesson’s house in order, the deceased wife’s sister acts as hostess instead of the unpractical Nina—and that is the grievance. She and the other three members of the Ridgeley family do not hesitate to enlarge on the shortcomings of the second Mrs. Jesson, and hence our tears are invoked on behalf of the ex-governess.

We may say, however, that for Miss Irene Vanbrugh, who plays Nina, we have nothing but the warmest admiration. She plays the part for all that it is worth, and her performance is the finest feature of the play.

The members of the Ridgeley family are, to our mind, like nothing in the world except themselves, and they certainly are so much like one another that Nina might have drawn them at any time by saying: “There are not four Ridgeleys but one Ridgeley.”

Mr. Pinero has probably met a Ridgeley somewhere, but we hope there are not many of them about. Hillary Jesson, in one of his flights of declamation, denounces the Ridgeleys as “individually and collectively one of the pests of humanity,” and this line got the most hearty applause of the evening. Obviously the Ridgeleys never go in front at the St. James’s Theatre, and it is not at all a bad device of stage-craft to direct all your slings and arrows against a class of people who, if not absolutely non-existent, are certainly never to be found amongst the audience in a theatre. The middle-class Puritanical goody-goody must always be a safe butt for the player and playgoer.

But there are much worse people than the Ridgeleys in the play. There is a Major Maurewarde who seduces the wife of his friend, sneakingly claims the only offspring of that marriage as his own natural son, and after the death of the lady contrives to enjoy the hospitality of the cuckold and the affection of the bastard—a nice specimen of an officer and a gentleman!

Then there is a British Minister to some foreign republic, unfortunately home on leave, who must have a finger in every pie and put the whole world straight. He espouses the cause of Nina, but when she is going to use the compromising letters of her predecessor in the affections of Jesson, Hillary Jesson, his brother, the meddler, prevails upon her to do no such thing, but to hand over the compromising documents to his safe keeping, with the result that he loses little time in handing them himself to his brother, the deceived husband.

As a reward for having nearly talked her to death, her self-elected champion asks Nina to present him with her cigarette case that he may add it to a very bizarre collection of curiosities he has made, including “the blood-stained handkerchief of a matador, and a half-smoked cigarette that has been pressed by the lips of an empress—one of the noblest of her sex.” To our mind, the man who can talk such rot as this is likely to be a much more troublesome creature than any of the despised Ridgeleys.

Then the husband Jesson would not be everybody’s choice; he certainly treats his second wife very unkindly, and as far as we can see the only reason for his kicking out the Ridgeleys, and allowing his wife to resume the proud privilege of keeping house for him, is that he becomes aware of the infidelity of his first wife and wreaks his vengeance upon her relatives.

We are told that two wrongs cannot make one right, and there seems no reason why the accidental revelation of the infidelities of a dead woman should suddenly transform a bad housekeeper into a good one, as probably Mr. Jesson soon discovered.

Upon the theme of this interesting play one might wander on indefinitely, but space fortunately forbids our saying more now, except that everybody should go and see “His House in Order,” and everybody should be interested by it; but we cannot think that anybody ought to call it Mr. Pinero’s masterpiece, for Mr. Pinero has written some very fine plays indeed.