EVOLUTION OF THE PACK. 121 



Stowsley last year, an' they didn't gie tongue a bit. Why, when oor 

 hoonds kiU ya might think wa hed a pack o' fifty couple oot." Those 

 present stood up in silence as a mark of respect to the memory of Dick 

 Spink and George Bell, who for years had never missed the annual 

 dinner. Glasses were reversed, and the forms of the departed sportsmen 

 rose before us in memory. It was hardly like a Bilsdale Hunt gathering 

 not to see them there. 



It was of another hunt gathering at Spout House Inn, 

 when all the old characters were assembled, that the following 

 verses were written by the author : — 



The rain poured down, and the wind blew chill, 



When the sportsmen gathered to chat o'er the kill, 



To crack of the sport they all love so well, 



And each his own favourite story to tell. 



A party of sportsmen, of fox-hunting fame 



(Each one of that party I'll mention by name) 



Met : I shall not say where, nor shall I say when, 



But the name of each Nimrod you'll very soon ken. 



They'd talked for a while, when one said " Come along, 



Let's join in a rousing Tally-ho and a song." 



The ball set a-rolling continued to spin, 



And they toasted brave Renny in every whin. 



" It's the sport of all sport," Bob Kitching, he said, 



" It's a sport that will live when all others are dead." 



" It tops every other," Bob Brunton avowed, 



This made Richard Spink, with a yoicks long and loud. 



Speak up like a sportsman, a true one indeed — 



" It's the sport of our kings of every creed ; 



Our fathers enjoyed it, and we do the same, 



We're doing our best their fame to maintain." 



Bob Garbutt, a regular good-hearted sort, 



Said, " Them 'at deean't hunt they owt ta be taught ; 



'Tis the greatest of pleasures, you'll all agree, 



Noo leeak what it's deean fer baith you and fer me." 



Bobbie Dawson—" Larl Bobbie "—a Nimrod for sure, 



A veteran old whip and a curious cure, 



Replied to Bob Garbutt, " Thoos spokken what's trew, 



An' Ah knaw fer Ah've hunted mair an' 'onny o' you." 



George Bell, the blacksmith, rose after Bobbie, 



For talking of hunting is ever his hobby ; 



" I've hunted," he said, " over hill, dale and plain, 



And I'd hunt more than ever were I once young again." 



