Family Of Four: 34 - Feasting And Beagling
...The next excitement was the postman. He delivered a great many parcels on the actual day which made everything more enjoyable than it is at the present time when most of them arrive days before the 25th...
Mrs Vivien Hirst recalls the joy of childhood Christmases.
Mrs Hirst's memoirs were gathered into a book, Family Of Cour, by her nephew Raymond Prior.
So Christmas mornings began in the time honoured way by drawing out the little gifts from the stockings. The next excitement was the postman. He delivered a great many parcels on the actual day which made everything more enjoyable than it is at the present time when most of them arrive days before the 25th.
Dinner was delicious, with either a turkey or a goose with all the etceteras, followed by plum pudding served with rich, rum sauce, and mince pies. Bobby and I did not like either of these so a baked custard was set for the two of us, the rest of the party exclaiming at our extraordinary lack of taste! Fruits and nuts were then passed round, plates being piled high for the maids, which we duly presented, along with crackers from the table decorations. We laughed as we helped to pull them and saw their paper hats set jauntily on their heads before beginning our dessert.
On Boxing Day the maids had their holiday, so Daddy took the four of us beagling. We set off early by tram, and then walked to an inn in one of the outlying districts where the meet gathered. Presently the huntsman and hounds walked up and, at once, all was activity. On the challenging notes of the horn they drew away followed by a heterogeneous crowd, many of whom met year after year, perhaps on only this one occasion, everyone striding out vigorously, many farmers among them, carrying sticks and calling across to one another.
We were very eager to keep up and trusted Daddy to guess the line the hare would take as it was not possible to walk every inch of the way. We often lost the meet but had an uncanny way of finding it again, and generally managed to reach the inn where it disbanded. As a rule, a good day's sport was enjoyed, and it was rarely that at least one hare was not set up. They were white in colour, having changed their coats for the winter's snow.
The hunt was in hilly country, or moorland, which made for hard going, and it was a very tired little group which returned home.
On one occasion we became separated and when we gathered together again Bobby was missing. It was beginning to grow dark, and after Daddy questioned us as to where we had last seen him, he cupped his hands to his mouth for greater resonance, and began bellowing in that fine voice of his which seemed to echo all around the hills. "Bob...by,
Bob.....by, Bob........by," but there was neither sight nor sound of his youngest.
We scattered, searching, calling at intervals to keep in touch, and eventually Daddy gathered us in, very worried, almost in a panic. I reassured him. I was quite sure Bobby, whom I always championed, had enough good sense to find his way back and told Daddy I was certain he would be at the inn. Daddy could not think so, but as it was rapidly darkening there was no point in lingering any longer. Hastening our steps we walked as quickly as we could in the gloom, our minds clouded with worry, for to be lost on the moors in winter darkness and cold is an ordeal at any age, and would be especially so for a young boy.
The inn loomed up, lights shining from the windows, forms grouped about, and there, standing aside in questing pose, stood a small figure. Bobby! As always after anxiety, he received a scolding for becoming separated, but I comforted him, assuring him that Daddy had been terribly worried and was not really cross at all!
