Mr. Punch in the Hunting Field by J. A. Hammerton and John Leech (literature books to read .txt) 📗
- Author: J. A. Hammerton and John Leech
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[Cover]
Some pages of this work have been moved from the original sequence to enable the contents to continue without interruption. The page numbering remains unaltered.
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PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HammertonDesigned to provide in a series of volumes, each
complete in itself, the cream of our national humour,
contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship
and the leading wits of the age to "Punch",
from its beginning in 1841 to the present day.
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Awful predicament of young Fitz-Brown, who, having undertaken to see a young lady safely home after a day with the Seaborough Harriers, has lost his way, and has climbed up what he takes to be a sign-post.
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MR. PUNCH IN THE HUNTING FIELDAS PICTURED BY JOHN LEECH, CHARLES KEENE, PHIL MAY,
RANDOLPH CALDECOTT, L. RAVEN-HILL, G. D. ARMOUR,
G. H. JALLAND, ARTHUR HOPKINS, REGINALD CLEAVER,
CECIL ALDIN, TOM BROWNE, W. L. HODGSON AND OTHERS
WITH 173 ILLUSTRATIONS
PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"
THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.
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THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo. 192 pagesfully illustrated
LIFE IN LONDON
COUNTRY LIFE
IN THE HIGHLANDS
SCOTTISH HUMOUR
IRISH HUMOUR
COCKNEY HUMOUR
IN SOCIETY
AFTER DINNER STORIES
IN BOHEMIA
AT THE PLAY
MR. PUNCH AT HOME
ON THE CONTINONG
RAILWAY BOOK
AT THE SEASIDE
MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
IN THE HUNTING FIELD
MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
WITH ROD AND GUN
MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
BOOK OF SPORTS
GOLF STORIES
IN WIG AND GOWN
ON THE WARPATH
BOOK OF LOVE
WITH THE CHILDREN
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EDITOR'S NOTEFrom his earliest days Mr. Punch has been an enthusiast for the Hunting Field. But in this he has only been the faithful recorder of the manners of his countrymen, as there is no sport more redolent of "Merrie England" than that of the Horse and Hound. At no time in Mr. Punch's history has he been without an artist who has specialised in the humours of the hunt. First it was the inimitable Leech, some of whose drawings find a place in the present collection, and then the mantle of the sporting artist would seem to have descended to feminine shoulders, as Miss Bowers (Mrs. Bowers-Edwards) wore it for some ten years after 1866. That lady is also represented in the present work, at pages 49 and 111. Later came Mr. G. H. Jalland, many of whose drawings we have chosen for inclusion here. Perhaps the most popular of his hunting jokes was that of the Frenchman exclaiming, "Stop ze chasse! I tomble, I faloff! Stop ze fox!!!" (see page 141). To-day, of course, it is Mr. G. D. Armour whose pencil is devoted chiefly to illustrating the humorous side of hunting; but now, as formerly, most of the eminent artists whose work lies usually in other fields, delight at times to find a subject associated with the hunt. Thus we are able to present examples of Mr. Cecil Aldin and Mr. Raven-Hill in sportive mood, while such celebrities of the past as Randolph Caldecott and Phil May are here drawn upon for the enriching of this, the first book of hunting humour compiled from the abundant chronicles of Mr. Punch.
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MR. PUNCH IN THE HUNTING FIELD THE HUNTING SEASON (By Jorrocks Junior)The season for hunting I see has begun,
So adieu for a time to my rod and my gun;
And ho! for the fox, be he wild or in bag,
As I follow the chase on my high-mettled nag.
I call him high-mettled, but still I must state,
He hasn't a habit I always did hate,
He doesn't walk sideways, like some "gees" you meet,
Who go slantindicularly down the street.
He's steady and well broken in, for, of course,
I can't risk my life on an unbroken horse;
You might tie a torpedo or two on behind,
And though they exploded that horse wouldn't mind
My strong point is costume, and oft I confess
I've admired my get-up in a sportsmanlike dress;
Though, but for the finish their lustre confers,
I would much rather be, I declare, without spurs.
They look very well as to cover you ride,
But I can't keep the things from the animal's side;
And the mildest of "gees," I am telling no fibs,
Will resent having liberties ta'en with his ribs.
Then hie to the cover, the dogs are all there,
And the horn of the hunter is heard on the air;
I've a horn of my own, which in secret I stow,
For, oddly enough, they don't like me to blow.
We'll go round by that gate, my good sir, if you please,
I'm one of your sportsmen who rides at his ease;
And I don't care to trouble my courser to jump,
For whenever he does I fall off in a lump.
Then haste to the meet! The Old Berkeley shall find,
If I don't go precisely as fast as the wind,
If they'll give my Bucephalus time to take breath,
We shall both of us, sometimes, be in at the death!
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Oh dear no! Merely the "first open day" after a long frost, and a tom-tit has been inconsiderate enough to fly suddenly out of the fence on the way to covert!
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Unsympathetic Bystander. "Taking 'im back to 'is cab, guv'nor?"
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PROVERBS FOR THE TIMID HUNTSMAN DressingThere's no toe without a corn.
If the boot pinches—bear it.
BreakfastA snack in time, saves nine.
Faint hunger never conquered tough beef-steak.
MountingYou can't make a hunter out of a hired hack.
The nearer the ground the safer the seat.
In the FieldTake care of the hounds, but the fence may take care of itself.
Too many brooks spoil the sport.
One pair of spurs may bring a horse to the water, but twenty will not make him jump.
It is the howl that shows the funk.
Fools break rails for wise men to go over.
Snobs and their saddles are soon parted.
At LuncheonA flask in the hand is worth a cask in the vault.
Cut your sandwiches according to your stomach.
Coming HomeThe nearer the home, the harder the seat.
Bed-timeIt's a heavy sleep that has no turning.
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Six miles from home, horse dead lame, awfully tender feet, and horribly tight boots.
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"Now, if I jump it, I shall certainly fall off; and if I dismount to open it, I shall never get on again."
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This is Jones, who thought to slip down by the rail early in the morning, and have a gallop with the fox hounds. On looking out of window, he finds it is a clear frosty morning. He sees a small boy sliding—actually sliding on the pavement opposite!! and—doesn't he hate that boy—and doesn't he say it is a beastly climate!!
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NEW SPORTING DICTIONARY OF FAMILIAR LATIN PHRASES.(1) Labour omnia vincit. (Labour overcomes everything.)
(2) Ars est celare artem. "Après vous, mademoiselle!"
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(3) Exeunt Omnes. (They all go off.)]
A Genuine SportswomanMrs. Shodditon (to Captain Forrard, on a cub-hunting morning.) "I do hope you'll have good sport, and find plenty of foxes."
Captain Forrard. "Hope so. By the way, how is that beautiful collie of yours that I admired so much?"
Mrs. Shodditon. "Oh! Fanny! poor dear! Our keeper shot it by mistake for a fox!"
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Short-sighted Party (thrown earlier, after weary tramp, thinks he sees mount on ploughed upland, and approaches bush coaxingly.) "Whoa, my beauty! Steady, my gal, steady then," &c.
Same Short-sighted Party arrived at thornbush, discovers error, and reflects—"Five miles from station, perhaps ten—fifty miles from town, missed express, missed dinner, lost mount, wet through, getting dusk, and, by the way, where am I?"
.[Left reflecting.
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Gorgeous Stranger. "I say, Huntsman, would you mind blowing your horn two or three times? I want my fellow, who has my flask, to know where we are, don't you know!"
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DIARY OF THE MODERN HUNT SECRETARY"Capping all non-subscribers is pretty generally resorted to, this season, not only in the shires, but also with provincial packs."—Daily Press.]
Monday.—Splendid gallop after non-subscriber. Spotted the quarry on good-looking chestnut, whilst we were drawing big covert. Edged my horse over in his direction, but non-subscriber very wary—think he must have known my face as "collector of tolls." Retired again to far side of spinney and disguised myself in pair of false whiskers, which I always keep for these occasions. Craftily sidled up, and finally got within speaking distance, under cover of the whiskers, which effectually masked my battery. "Beg pardon, sir," I began, lifting my hat, "but I don't think I have the pleasure of knowing your name as a subscri——" But he was off like a shot. Went away over a nice line of country, all grass, and a good sound take-off to most of the fences. Non-subscriber had got away with about a three lengths lead of me, and that interval was fairly maintained for the first mile and a half of the race. Then, felt most annoyed to see that my quarry somewhat gained on me as we left the pasture land and went across a holding piece of plough. Over a stiff post and rails, and on again, across some light fallow, towards a big dry ditch. The hunted one put his horse resolutely at it—must say he rode very straight, but what won't men do to avoid "parting?"—horse jumped short and disappeared from view together with his rider. Next moment I had also come a cropper at ditch, and rolled down on top of my prey. "Excuse me," I said, taking out my pocket-book and struggling to my knees in six inches of mud, "but when you rather abruptly started away from covertside, I was just about to remark that I did not think you were a subscriber, and that I should have much pleasure in taking the customary 'cap'—thank you." And he paid up quite meekly. We agreed, as we rode back together, in the direction in which we imagined hounds to be, that even if they had got away with a good fox, the field would not be likely to have had so smart a gallop as he and I had already enjoyed. Lost my day's hunting, of course.
Thursday.—Got away after another non-subscriber, led him over four fields, after which he ran me out of sight. Lost my day's hunting again, but was highly commended
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