2 
R.A. BEAGLES, WEYMOUTH. 
Ir you want a vent for the proverbial superfluous energy of the Gunner Subaltern 
—-aye, and for the matter of that of older ones too—I cannot imagine a more 
suitable pastime than the sport of hunting with beagles. 
“What about fox-hunting?” you say. Yes, that’s true, but we do not all keep 
horses. 
Now for beagles all that is wanted is a good pair of legs and bellows, and these 
requisites I flatter myself the Royal Artillery possess as well as most people. 
It was at the end of last season we started our pack, a modest 24 couple, which 
has now risen to 63 couple. But don’t imagine that even last season we had no 
sport. Though in the nature of things we only had a few meets, we had some 
fine runs, and the cheery ‘‘ Ya-allo-ee find her Brevity” of Talbot-Ponsonby, our 
then Master (alas, now absent on leave), echoed often over the downs, till the 
tune was changed to ‘‘gone away for’ard, for’ard.” Then what a scattering ! 
Ponsonby well to the fore, sticking to it through the Lodmore Marshes, now up 
to the waist in water, then back again up a formidable hill, over a heavy plough, 
stone wall, thorn hedge, another plough sticky and deep, another hill. I mark 
the music of the horn as the checks is getting more uncertain; no wonder, after 
an hour or so of such work. And the rest of the field by no means make a poor 
show. Close supporters of Ponsonby are the whips—Anley, Lowis, Scott, 
Broughton (transferred now, to our regret, to another command), Corbyn and 
Westerman, both now also among the much missed. 
Tailing off are some dozen keen ones, while in the distance seeking, more or 
less leisurely, points of vantage for a view, are some 20 or 30 visitors, including 
many ladies. Puss of course circles, as all do; and so these latter see a good 
deal of the fun. 
We do not kill on this occasion; but who will say, as taking a well-earned rest 
on Balaclava heights, we scan our homeward road some 250 feet below us, that 
he does not feel better for the outing and has not enjoyed himself, or that our little 
pack, with their delightsome music and skilful working, has not given us the rarest 
of sport. Talk about ‘‘ Odora canum vis’’— Virgil ought to have been there to see 
it, and if he had brought Diana with him, she would have fainted with rapture. 
Then, in the summer, we are up at al] hours of the morning exercising our pets 
before the day’s work begins—and frequent visits to the kennels and talks over 
the merits of Duchesses, Rubies, and Carelesses help to while away our leisure 
hours. 
If the subject interest any members of the Institution, I shall be glad, as far 
as I am able, to give in a future paper some account of our (this season’s) doings. 
And should the perusal of this short note induce Gunners at other stations to 
start packs of beagles, it will not be written in vain. 
OBITUARY. 
Caprain C. E. Marurtn (retired) died in London on 7th December, 1894. He 
joined the Regiment as Lieutenant, 19th August, 1875; became Captain, 14th 
August, 1884; and retired on retired pay, 10th August, 1892. 
