102 England's oldest hunt. 



yard was headed by the hearse, driven by a member of the hunt — Mr. 

 John Garbutt — in his scarlet coat. Immediately behind it walked 

 Bobbie's grey pony, bearing the old whip's coat, cap, boots and spurs, 

 the latter of which belonged to the Duke of Buckingham, and Mr. F. 

 Wilson Horsfall, ex-Master, rode next, alongside the hounds, the 

 members of the hunt riding behind, with old Nicholas Spink, who now 

 claims the honour of being the oldest member of the hunt, leading 

 the way. Amongst the members of the hunt were Messrs. Robert 

 Garbutt, ex-M.F.H., ' Nimrod ' Pearson (Secretary of the Sinnington), 

 Chapman Garbutt (Chairman of the Bilsdale Hunt Committee), John 

 Garbutt, Dr. Snowden, Henry Chapman, Frank Dobson, Ben Kitching, 

 Jos. Kitching, Seth Kirby, Stephen Ainsley, John Temple, Bell Medd, 

 and almost all the dalesfolk. The service both in the church and at the 

 graveside was conducted by the Rev. B. Wilton. When the polished 

 oak coffin with its brass plate, inscribed ' Robert Dawson, died June 

 17th, 1902,' was lowered into the grave, Mr. Horsfall placed on the 

 foot of it the whip, cap, coat, boots and spurs last worn by the old man. 

 Standing over the grave, Bentley, the huntsman, sounded * Gone away * 

 on the horn, as Bobbie himself had many a time and oft sounded it 

 within the very echo of that last scene in the history of an interesting 

 life." 



" Kam Sahd, Chop Yat," thus described the final scene : — 



The weary huntsman, worn with years, 



Reclines in death and disappears, 



On mother earth's congenial breast, 



He takes his last unwaking rest. 



In life that mother loved him so, 



She oft revoiced his tally-ho ! 



And quite as loud, and just as fast, 



Returned his shouts and hunting blast, 



Yea, even the tongueing of his pack 



She heard and thrice re-echoed back ? 



An antiphon that shook the sky 



'Tween hunting notes, and moorlands high, 



When Bobbie heard the rousing strains, 



The blood was frantic in his veins. 



Bob Dawson with Bob Brunton meet, 



And hunting chums their fellows greet — 



The sportsman with his eager hound 



From field to field in rapture bound, 



And taste the joys, uncloy'd and real, 



The substance of his earth's ideal. 



Such Bobbie thought the future state, 



And led his beauties on the gate, 



He rode a huntsman on his bier, 



