CHAPTER XXI 



OLD-TIME ECCENTRICS OF SPORT 



I WAS talking the other day to an old sportsman whom I 

 had not seen for many years, comparing notes of our 

 recollections of the sport and sportsmen of the past. " I'll 

 tell you," he said, " one thing I note particularly about the 

 men of the present day ; there's little or none of the eccen- 

 tricity, or individuality, if you prefer it, which was such a 

 pleasing relief to the monotonous groove into which 

 humanity in the lump is so apt to run." And with that he 

 began recalling memories of the peculiarities of these 

 eccentric sportsmen of the past. 



At Harrow, more than half a century ago, a Mr William 

 Bean was as great a terror to the farmers as the Wild Hunts- 

 man to the inhabitants of the Hartz Mountains. Though 

 he kept a pack of hounds, his ruthless trespasses raised 

 every hand against him. In vain did farmers lock their 

 gates and pile hurdles against them and lie in ambush with 

 pitchforks. One farmer watched till nearly dusk, and 

 then heard the hounds go by as he sat at tea. He was so 

 astonished that he afterwards asked Bill Bean in confidence 

 how he managed to hunt in the dark. "Didn't you see 

 me ? " was the reply ; " we ride with a bull's-eye on each 

 stirrup and one on our breast-plates, so we can go as well 

 by night as by day." Well might the farmers say after 

 that, " There goes Bull's-eye Bill ; it's no use trying to stop 

 him." 



Sometimes Mr Bean would hunt with a red nose of 

 enormous dimensions, a fiery red moustache, and with red 

 wafers stuck on his cheeks to conceal his identity. Notices 

 not to trespass were sent him by every post; indignation 

 meetings were held, and it was resolved that Bull's-eye Bill 



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