158 England's oldest hunt. 



thatched turf house, near where they had been sitting, 

 eagerly holding their solemn heads first on one' side and then 

 on the other, awaiting the quietude to be broken by the 

 musical blast, which to them meant pleasure and business 

 combined, and re-union with confreres in seeking for a fox, 

 which might possibly take them many miles away from their 

 comfortable beds. Saluted by their master — a trencher-fed 



JOE DUCK. 



hound must endeavour to disprove the truism of the Biblical 

 assertion as to the serving of two masters — they, peradven- 

 ture, uttered a note (" yowl " they call it in the dales) of 

 delight, then joining the one or two hounds already collected, 

 jogged on till the whole pack — never a very large one — 

 was collected. 



Such then is a picture of Joe on a hunting morning 

 mounted on his little cob and in a pair of high boots, with 

 an ash whip stock and his horn secured round his neck. 

 It must have been a picturesque sight, this old man, full of 

 love for his duty — an arduous one often — for which he 

 neither received, or, if I have judged the man rightly, 



