The Evening Telegraph

AN AMERICAN FOX-HUNT.

The London Saturday Review gives the following amusing comment on the description of a fox-hunt which it discovered in an American paper. The slight mistake with regard to the whereabouts of St. Louis is characteristically British:-

Until very recently Englishmen might have consoled themselves with the reflection that, however much they had fallen behind America in some things, there was at least one institution in respect of which they were still ahead of the United States, as of all the rest of the world. They might have taken a semi-barbarous pride in the belief that they were still superior in sport, if in nothing else. Americans might be the only really great and free people on the face of the earth; they might be the only people now capable of producing famous statesmen, preachers, authors, and generals; but we had at any rate one institution which they had never yet ventured to imitate. The joys of fox hunting were not yet revealed to them. Hopeless as the English cockney might feel his case to be when he compared himself with the citizen of Boston or of Philadelphia, there was still something left for which our country gentlemen might thank heaven. But on the 31st March an event happened in the Western States the news of which will carry a sense of the pressure of American competition home to the heart of Leicestershire and the bosom of Bucks. Advices from Chicago inform us that on the 17th of last March a fox-hunt took place near the town of St. Louis, in Illinois, a town which is no doubt destined to be the future Badminton or Melton Mowbray of America, and which, if we may judge by the accounts of the sport afforded on this first occasion, as given to us in the St. Louis Republican, is likely next season to cause a perfect stampede of sportsmen from Leamington and Northampton to the Far West. The last hunting season in this country was no doubt a good one; and many of the runs of January and February, 1869, will be affectionately remembered by the squires of Lutterworth and the officers from Weedon: but we may safely venture to declare that the best run of the season with the Atherstone or the Quorn was not to be compared with this St. Louis fox-hunt, either in variety or piquancy of incidents. But there is no such difference of detail between the English and American methods of fox-hunting that the superiority of the American method cannot be adequately appreciated without a little description, which it may be hoped will tend to clear the reader's mind of prejudice, and enable him to take an impartial view of the American mode of hunting the fox.

The first prejudice of which an English reader must divest himself is the belief that the sport of fox-hunting a Master of Fox-hounds is necessary. Ordinary English squires could probably almost as easily imagine the existence of a son without a father as of fox-hounds without a master; and although the master is the only absolutely essential functionary to the hunting of a pack of foxhounds, yet one is not apt to suppose that the master would be able to show his friends or subscribers very much good sport without the assistance of a huntsman, and one or more whips. But, in "inaugurating" this noble sport at St. Louis, the men of Illinois have struck out an entirely novel and most original line. They have arranged and organized their sporting staff on a different and vastly improved system. The chief personage in the sport does not, at St. Louis, write M. F. H. after his name, but receives the much more dignified titles of "Projector" and "Grand Marshal." The hounds do not, as in England, belong to him or to any body of subscribers whom he represents; but a plan is adopted much more in accordance with the spirit of the age. The hounds are jobbed. Peace to the souls of Sir Richard Sutton and of the late Mr. Assheton Smith! We would not in the lifetime of those worthies have called attention to this matter, as it would perhaps have pained them. But, now that they are gone, no such delicacy prevents our pressing upon our readers the advantages of this practice of jobbing hounds; though it is unnecessary to describe these advantages in detail, inasmuch as many persons in this country have already adopted the parallel customs of jobbing their horses, their carriages, their pointers and retrievers, their clothes, and their servants; and the jobbing of foxhounds must obviously be even more convenient than the jobbing of these things, by so much as foxhounds are a more troublesome and wasteful class of instruments to keep in stock. Next after the Grand Marshal and the Foxhound Job-master, the most important functionary in an American hunt appears to be the special correspondent of the local newspaper. "The presence of a journalist is as necessary at a fox-hunt as at any other important or interesting meeting in America. But the reader may perhaps wonder what arrangements can be made at a fox-hunt for the convenience of the gentlemen of the press; how, in fact, the nature of the sport can permit of the proper facilities being afforded to them for discharging their important duties to the public. In order to understand this, it is necessary to bear in mind some important differences between an English and an American meet, or "rendezvous," as it is more elegantly termed in Illinois. In the first place, the Americans have most judiciously dispensed with the English practice of drawing a cover in order to find their fox. In Illinois the fox is purchased of a fox-catcher some time before the hunt is to take place, is put for some weeks under the scientific supervision and charge of a fox-keeper, and is eventually brought to the rendezvous in a fox-wagon." It is probably while he is under the scientific supervision of the keeper that the fox acquires the art of climbing trees-an art which adds a novel variety of incident to the American sport, and which, as we shall see, the fox at St. Louis practised with the greatest elat. But, at any rate, the advantages of the American method are obvious. As there is no drawing, there can be no blanks, and no tiresome waste of time in cover-beating.

And, indeed, it is difficult to believe that our fashionable hunts will not adopt the American system, and start their foxes in prime condition next season from a fox-wagon. It cannot be supposed that in this scientific age intelligent and sport loving Englishmen will long be content to allow that which is absolutely essential to their sport, the finding of a fox, to depend upon chance. No doubt, too, the whole influence of the ladies and of the local press will be thrown into the scale in favor of the fox-wagon system, since it will be remarked, in almost bird's-eye view of the run can be obtained. The reader is now in a position to understand how it is possible for a special correspondent to attend and report upon an American fox-hunt, without the necessity either of being a first-flight man across country, or of being able to manage a balloon.

And it may be interesting to him to learn that on this occasion, at St. Louis, the projector of the hunt was one Mr. Macdonald, who hired the hounds, bought the fox, fixed the hour and place for the rendezvous, and for the find, or start, as, under all the circumstances, it is perhaps more aptly named; that the foxhound job-master was one Mr. John Stumpf, "a rather old gentleman in grey suit," who brought "five or six dogs, named Carlo, Waltman, Pascha, Hector, and Pluto, to the rendezvous," and whom the special correspondent of the St. Louis Republican represents as "regarding his dogs with affectionate interest, and expressing his confidence that they would kill the fox, if they had a fair show;" that the fox-keeper was one Barney O'Connor: and that the fox provided for the occasion was named "Ben Butler," a name probably suggested by the silvery metallic glisten of his silken coat. Nor let the Leicestershire man be surprised at the small number of hounds-two couples and a half-considered necessary for the sport of Illinois. Doubtless the deficiency in numbers is more than counterbalanced by the superior excellence engendered in the hounds through the competition which is caused by the practice of jobbing them. But, however this may be, enough has probably been said by way of preliminary explanation to enable the reader to enjoy a few short extracts from the narrative of the special correspondent of the St. Louis Republican. This gentleman, who was mounted on "a smooth-running buggy from the St. Nicholas livery stable, drawn by a three-minute mare," on receiving private information that the fox-wagon had started, and that the exciting scene was about to commence, set out for the hill where the start was to take place, and thus describes the event:-

The hill is to the north of the road, and no fences render the ascent of the mild declivity troublesome. This spot was selected as there are no woods of any amount in the vicinity, and the view is unobstructed. On the top of this hill, about two o'clock, the hunters and spectators gathered. After some little delay, Mr. Macdonald gave the order for the hunt to begin. In tones of stentorian command he addressed the crowd. The fox was about to be let go. It would be taken to the brow of the hill, and there set at liberty; but in order to secure a successful hunt, it would be necessary to preserve order. The dogs were to be held-a boy to each hound-the horsemen were to form in line on the hill where they now were, and at a given signal to start forward. "Then," said the speaker, in a voice of heroic determination, "every man for himself." These words produced a visible effect, and some few of the horsemen looked nervously at each other, and evidently felt as if something serious was about to transpire. After some hauling and snapping, "Ben Butler" was flopped out of his barrel upon the ground. Barney O'Connor holding him by the chain. The next step was to give him a good start; so he was led across the field, Mr. Macdonald and two other parties accompanying, to the point before designated. During the route the fox was dragged over a few fences, the presumption being that the hounds would follow in exactly the same course, and so try the mettle of the horses and riders. A piece of woods, a quarter of a mile or so from the crowd, having been reached, the fox was let go, a blow on the side being given him to convey the idea that the faster he went the better.

The reader will not fail to remark that, in this scientific method of opening the hunt, the sportsmen of Illinois have borrowed some characteristic features from several English sports. In the practice of bringing the fox up in a fox-wagon, and starting him with a rap on the flanks, we see something akin to scenes which have been witnessed before now with her Majesty's Buckhounds. The trick of hauling the fox over some fences, with the special design of affording better sport to the riders (or to the spectators), may remind old Oxonians of the Christ Church drag. The dodge whereby the necessity for the services of a huntsman and his whipper-in is obviated-namely, by confiding each hound to the care of a small boy to hold-seems to be remotely derived from our practice of using slippers at coursing-matches, and is at any rate an excellent contrivance, as it substitutes for the permanent and expensive employment of full-grown men the cheaper alternative of occasional, and perhaps voluntary, child-labor. And, lastly, in the marshalling of the horsemen and requiring them to start by a given signal, it is easy to discover a feature borrowed from Epsom, and a feature, too, of which many an unlucky sportsman, who has been temporarily or permanently thrown out by getting a bad start from the wrong side of the cover, will appreciate the utility. The fox being thus started in the bran-new American fashion, the hounds were laid on, and the hunt commenced. Like the life of Achilles, it was short, but glorious. On arriving at the first fence, the hounds, with a consideration which would never be shown by an English pack, stopped short, and proceeded to offer a variety of diversion for the entertainment of the ladies and of the special correspondent. One sat down and bayed, another tried unsuccessfully to execute "circles of recovery," and a third proceeded to chase some loose horses which were in another corner of the field. All this time, the reader might suppose, the fox was making play across the country, and the chance of a kill was ended. And so it would have been, no doubt, in the case of an English vermin. But at this interesting juncture the event occurred at which we have already hinted, which shows the superiority of the American to the English fox, and which afforded a charming variety in the sport never even dreamed of by English fox-hunters. The fox went up a tree! But we must again summon the special correspondent to describe such a scene as this, as he witnessed it, on arriving at the first fence in his buggy:-

"What of the fox?" This was the question we asked on arriving at the spot; but nobody could answer it. On looking around, we saw a man on the other side of a moist soft field of nursery plants, gesticulating wildly. (This is apparently the American substitute for crying Tally Ho.) "What's the matter?" we shouted. "He's up a tree," was the reply, pointing upwards; and sure enough, on looking intently at a tree near him, we spied the fox seated among the branches and calmly enjoying the scene. But the enjoyment of this amazing fox was not destined to last very long. For now we come to the kill, or the denouement, as it is called in America, which was as different from our English termination as was every other part of this strange sport. Suppose-if we may be permitted to suppose an utter impossibility-that a Quorn or a Pytchley fox should on any occasion ascend a tree, what would be done under the circumstances? The laws of English fox-hunting do not apply any solution to such a puzzle. There is probably not a squire in Leicestershire who could say off hand what ought to be done in the event of such astounding behavior on the part of a fox: and we doubt whether even the great Tom Firr himself would have been equal to such an occasion. But the wary Illinois fox-hunter comes to his sport fully prepared for such an occurrence. He carries a revolver with him to the hunting-field, and thus is prepared to deal with the fox as he would with a man who had offended him in the streets of St. Louis or Chicago-namely, "to shoot him on sight." On the present occasion, the first sportsmen who got within reach of the treed fox happened to be Judge Vastine, who succeeded in bringing him down with a revolver shot from his horse. When the special correspondent arrived upon the scene, reflections upon the sport would be superfluous, we shall conclude by quoting, and earnestly recommending to the unprejudiced consideration of readers in the Midland counties, the excellent remarks of the special correspondent:-

"It may strike some minds as a little odd that, after so much elaborate preparation, the fox should have been so summarily disposed of. But Judge Vastine, no doubt, intended to illustrate the original idea of hunting before modern romance corrupted it. When we pursue anything, the object is to catch it, and the sooner the better: and this is the genuine American idea."