206 England's oldest hunt. 



back his words, till at length they burst forth like lava from a volcano. 

 Jack Parker, the veteran huntsman, used to say " it was wonderful 

 what eddication did for eloquence," and lament that he himself never 

 went to School, and yet he could express a classic English unknown 

 either to Murray or Webster. " Neddy " would stir his hot grog with 

 the newly-cut stump of a fox brush. He loved to hear a " Yoicks, 

 boys ! Tally-ho ! " and the huntsman's horn. 



John Kipling, of Edston Village, uncle to the more modern Rudyard 

 Kipling, was one of the quaint, comical sort, possessing a fund of 

 humour and good temper, which added much to his popularity, especially 

 as a Wesleyan lay preacher. Kipling and my father were great pals. 

 He was a regular visitor at my home. He used to tease me by taking 

 his seat in a green arm-chair, a size too small for him, and before leaving 

 would press down his coat pockets between the spindles, and as he 

 walked away the chair stuck to his nether parts. He professed to have 

 a right to take it with him. Of course, we lads objected to this, and we 

 used to fight him for possession. On one occasion, I was up at his 

 farm, along with my father, and as we sat round the table to dinner, 

 he said c Now, David, you'll have to make t' best on't, we've got nowt 

 but a bit o' dead mutton to dinner." David thought it was more 

 in his line dead than wick. At that particular moment it was a lovely 

 roast leg of mutton. Kipling lived two miles from Marton, and many 

 a time my father and he tramped to and fro for half the distance till 

 after midnight, settling the affairs of the nation. At last, my mother 

 said, " Master, if you are going out with Kipling, take this." It was 

 his nightcap. 



Another popular sportsman in the Sinnington was Mr. 

 Barker Coverdale, of Kirby Mills — locally famous because 

 at the Kirby Steeplechases (in the Sixties), twice in suc- 

 cession, his old Irish horse, Paddy, swept the course. Once 

 he fell at the last fence but one, and Barker broke his collar- 

 bone ; he was helped into the saddle again, and over the 

 last fence they went, and round the flat, the stamina of the 

 old horse wearing down all opposition, and enabling him to 

 win bravely. 



The gem of the younger members of the hunt in my 

 days (continues Mr. Barr), was young Tom Kendall, son 

 of T. M. Kendall, of Pickering. He hunted for years with 

 his father and sister, and had all gone well would doubtless 

 have succeeded as M.F.H. of the Sinnington. 



Jack Parker was under the benediction of one or two 

 members of the cloth. The Rev. James Hill and his son, of 



