George Beers, Huntsman. 73 



again, and later oh heard that he was very 111. He 

 sent for me to go and see him ; I called in Arling- 

 ton Street for that purpose, and found him very 

 weak but cheery. "How are you?" he asked. 

 "Glad you're come, the only wonder is that I am 

 living to see you." I remained as long as was 

 good for him, and then bid a last farewell to one 

 of the finest sportsmen of his day. 



A man of superior mental attainments, and bril- 

 liant in conversation, it was a treat to talk to — and 

 a pleasure to ride over a country with him. From 

 his great experience and ability he was an 

 authority upon hunting and everything pertaining 

 thereto. Mr. Jack Webb, his son, had pre- 

 deceased him. He was the father of L^dy 

 Valentla. 



Mr. Webb gave his favourite mare Cat's- 

 meat to a farmer, Mr. Sirett of Stratton Audley, 

 for a brood mare. To use his favourite simile for 

 being clever, " She could talk French and clean 

 knives ! " 



Mr. Harrison, Mr. Webb's great friend, was 

 another ardent supporter of the Bicester Hunt, 

 and was equally popular ; a fine rider to hounds, 

 and I never saw a man with better hands. At his 

 death his mantle and estate f^ll to the present 

 worthy Squire of Shelswell. 



