BOBBIE DAWSON. 91 



an' said, ' Would you like to look roond the Marquess's stables, and 

 see his hounds ? ' ' Yis,' says Ah, ' that's what Ah've cum'd for, bud 

 All deean't know whether or not they'll let me in.' ' Oh ! ' says he, 

 ' I'll take you round.' An' he did, me thinkin' all t'tahm he were 

 takking a good deeal upon himself, though Ah saw all t' men touch 

 their caps tiv him. Then he says to me, ' Are you Bobbie Dawson 

 from Bilsdale ? ' ' Yes ! ' Ah replied, ' this is him.' With that he took 

 me intiv t' hall, an' left me in a room. In a few minutes a powdered 

 Johnny cums in, an' says, ' His Lordship wishes you to have anything 

 you wish. ' Was that him — t' Markiss ? — Ah asked. ' That was the 

 Marquess of Zetland, K.G.,' he says. Ah don't know what K.G. stands 

 for, bud it'll likely mean summat. ' Oh ! ' says Ah. ' Well, all Ah can 

 say is you're a vast deal better putten on ner what he is.' " 



On another occasion he went to see Captain the Hon. 

 F. Johnstone's hounds (now Sir Hugo Meynell Fitzherbert's), 

 and when they trotted up he criticised them individually, 

 passing such remarks as " that's a niceish dog, but where 

 did ya git yon ugly day veil, I wadn't fetch it oot hooiver." 

 The gentlemen present were so entertained with him that they 

 " made a gedderin'," as Bobbie himself put it, on behalf 

 of the somewhat severe critic. 



At one time the late Lord de L'Isle had a keeper who was 

 " a mottel enemy to foxes." The deceased peer himself 

 was not too partial to either foxes or fox-hounds, and wordy 

 warfare not infrequently took place between him and our 

 veteran. On one occasion, Bobbie met his Lordship and 

 told him he had found a fox poisoned. " Ya knaw you've 



eddicated that d d keeper of yours up to it, and when 



he dees I'll spit on his grave, an' when Ah die Ah'll gan inti 

 Hell and pull him intiv t'yattest place — and that weean't 

 be yat eneeaf." No sin in Dawson's eyes equalled that of 

 vulpicide, and there are occasional indignant entries in his 

 diary telling of hounds and foxes being poisoned on the 

 Ingleby estate. For years he kept a record of every day's 

 sport. This diary he presented to Mr. F. Wilson Horsfall, 

 M.F.H.. on his death-bed, the Master handing it over to the 

 Hunt. Here are some extracts : — 



September 25, 1873. — Met at Carlton-in-Cleveland, at 10 a.m., 

 had two kills, the second at 4 p.m. 



