146 England's oldest hunt. 



head keeper to Lord Downe, procured permission from 

 Squire Wharton to hunt this part of his territory. The 

 late Thomas Nicholson was appointed Chairman, Mr. Sturdy 

 Watson, Vice-Chairman, Mr. Harry Gibson, Secretary, 

 Messrs. John and Fred Hart, James and Thomas Mortimer, 

 Richard Tireman, John Stockton, and Messrs. J. W. and 

 J. R. Alexander being the Committee. But Mr. Alexander, 

 Senr., remembers the Farndale Hounds coming to, and 

 hunting at, Castleton before some of these Committee 

 men were born, in the days of old Joe Duck, and when the 

 Cleveland were yet a trencher-fed pack. However, more of 

 this later. 



After this outline as to the modus operandi of manage- 

 ment, it may be well to return and take another glance at 

 the country. In many respects it is very similar to the 

 Bilsdale. On several parts of this moorland the ground is 

 very soft and boggy, which, of course, one must expect in 

 these countries, but those who have hunted long in them 

 know almost every bit ' o' soft grund,' and every sheep track 

 and gate. To the dalesman the bog is as nothing ; 

 but the fear of them, and the exaggerated idea many 

 low country sportsmen have of their number and char- 

 acter, keeps not a few away from these old-world packs, 

 where the longest and the best runs are yet to be enjoyed. 

 I remember Mr. Alexander, Senr., who for half-a-century has 

 hunted with the Farndale and other local packs, telling me 

 of a man losing his horse in one, but such occurrences are 

 few and far between.* 



There are many men to whom the bullfinch, the post and 

 rails, and the widest of stells are as nothing, to whom the 

 longest day and farest meet are never too long or too far, 



*The bogs here are not nearly so bad as many of those I came 

 across when hunting with Mr. Conyers Scrope's ill-fated Wensleydale 

 pack. On the last day of this pack's existence (April, 1907), the Master, 

 Messrs. G. and H. Scrope, the Marquess of Exeter and the author found 

 ourselves in a morass over which we could not even lead our horses. 

 I shall never forget the be draggled appearance we all presented when 

 we got on to sound going. 



