118 THE TEINITY FOOT BEAGLES 



in the side of past Masters, as hares constantly took a line over it 

 and hounds had to be whipped off. Hunt's first encounter with 

 him was on the occasion of killing a hare close to his house. What 

 Hunt did is a mystery, but he refused to be annoyed with the man's 

 abuse and eventually the farmer became an ardent friend of his, and 

 we enjoyed much good sport over his land. 



In 1881-82 further Whips were added to replace those leaving — 

 these were Mr. E. E. Barclay, who hunted a pack of beagles of his own 

 for many years, and has been Master of the Puckeridge for over thirteen 

 years, Mr. Watkin Wynn, now Sir Watkin Wynn, and Mr. Stainer. 



Mr. Barclay ^ was the best heavy weight runner the writer ever 

 saw — he stayed in the most wonderful manner, and one never seemed 

 to be able to get on terms with him. 



While mentioning Mr. Barclay there is a story worth repeating, 

 which though not bearing on beagling was confirmed many years 

 after to the writer when he was beagUng at Isleham Fen with 

 Barclay, by the farmer who was the subject of it. 



There was at that time a celebrated cab-driver called " Snipey " 

 Clark. He was a confirmed poacher and used to drive undergrads. 

 out to shoot on various farms which he said the tenants wanted the 

 game shot over. 



One day he came to A. G. Steele and Ivo Bligh (the present 

 Lord Darnley) and said a Mr. White had expressed hopes he would 

 bring down some guns to shoot snipe which were fairly shouldering 

 one another on his Fen. The day Clark chose was a Cambridge 

 Market Day. In due course they arrived on the ground and started 

 off with Snipey as beater. A hare got up which was shot and put 

 by Snipey in his game pocket, oblivious of the fact that there was a 

 large hole in it (the pocket). 



Things went well and a nice few snipe were bagged, when an 

 infuriated man rushed down on the party and in no measured 

 language asked them what the blank blank they meant by shooting 

 on his land. Snipey said, "This is Mr. White's farm, isn't it?" 

 " No," said the man, " and there is no farmer of that name in the 

 district/' The shooters apologised humbly for their henchman's 



^ His son, G. W. Barclay, is now Master.— F. C. K. 



