82 England's oldest hunt. 



hand any fresh work. However, as much for a day's hunting 

 as anything else, I did drive into Bilsdale early one morning, 

 and had the honour of a special fixture for my benefit. I 

 may say that a " chap what papers things " has little status 

 in the eyes of the dalesman unless he be at the same time a 

 good sportsman. Literature in these out-of-the-world spots 

 has not made great advancement, and this may perhaps be 

 explained by the fact that so few of the older folk can read, 

 and also that they have not the time or desire. 

 I had arranged to have the old man photographed, together 

 with Dick Spink and old George Bell. The meeting place 

 of hounds and of the veteran trio was at Chop Gate, or, 

 as it is more commonly known, Chop Yat. Here stands the 

 Buck Hotel, a few cottages, a couple of blacksmiths' shops, 

 the school for this part of the dale, the post office, which 

 also does duty as the general stores of the village, and the 

 Wesleyan chapel. Indeed, Chop Yat is the metropolis of 

 the dale. I have never heard the etymology of the name 

 very satisfactorily explained. 



The Buck is the great centre of erudition. Here 

 the news of the day is learned, the paper read, here the 

 letters are sorted and often received ; here, too, the show 

 is held, and those little convivial gatherings which periodi- 

 cally liven up the life of the dale. It was here, too, then, 

 that I first " clapped eyes on " Bobbie Dawson and his 

 contemporaries. 



They are now, alas ! all amongst the great majority who 

 joined me at dinner that night. It may seem incongruous 

 at the outset of a sketch of the old man's life to give an 

 obituary of him, but I find that by so doing I can best 

 portray his character and characteristics. I wrote over a 

 score of these notices of the old man, and have glanced through 

 them to quote an impression formed when the veteran was 

 yet fresh in my mind. Of all the articles I have written on 

 Bobbie — and en passant I may mention that obituary 

 notices to the extent of some twenty columns were penned 

 by me in one day and night — none now on a retrospective 

 glance strike me as being truer and more in sympathy with 



