228 England's oldest hunt. 



now as he wheels away from ' the brimming river '), they might as well 

 have trotted home, for they would have ' seen nowt o' them ' any more 

 that day. Lord Helmsley broke up the fox, and never was brush more 

 justly awarded than to Miss Rose Kendall — now Mrs. Ralph Dixon. 

 Being myself a benedict, I resigned her at the inn to a young buck, who 

 proffered to see after her and her horse ; but, alas ! he had a weakness — 

 the fascinating attractions of two live lords proved too many for him, 

 and to my horror I learned, after we had put Yeddingham behind us, 

 that the unfortunate girl, midway in her 'teens, stranded in a strange 

 inn full of noisy men claiming all the services of the establishment 

 had had neither bite nor sup. Tim Cattle, who knew those parts, 

 called on our way home at various friends, to try for some refreshment 

 for her, but all were at Malton market. He saw her to her own door, 

 where she ended the day's sport about 9 at night by falling from her 

 saddle, dead beat and fainting — as well she might after such a ride 

 and a twelve hours' fast. One name I miss in the list of the fox's 

 chief mourners — that of T. P. Frank, another happy hunter. All of 

 us, so far as I know, except Lord Castlereagh, saw the run to its finish 

 on one horse, Tom Colley's poor brute saw another finish. He died 

 in his stable the same night, ridden to death. Those were the times ! 

 The pack was ours, and we were a pack as noted as our hounds. I 

 have seen the whole Middleton Hunt left clean out of sight, as wo 

 looked from a hillside over the Plain of York, after a burst of some 

 twenty minutes, and the only men with the hounds besides Burton 

 (huntsman), and Holland (whip), were Marcus Kendall, Tom Ellerby, 

 and 



' In or Over.' " 



Here is another account of the run as sent by Mr. Parring- 

 ton to the " Yorkshire Herald," signing the name Jack Parker 



T'varry best run at ivver wer knawn in t' Sinnington country. 



Mr. Edditor. — It isn't varry off ens Ah trouble you newspaper 

 fowk wiv a letter, bud ez fer a sartenty we hed sike a run wiv oor 

 hoonds last Setterda (February 24, 1877) ez neeaboddy ivver heeard 

 tell on afore. Ah wad leyke t' sporting gentlemen ta knaw what a 

 grand run it was if you'll only prent mah letter. Whya, then, ta begin, 

 wa met at Helmsley, an' went tiv t' new covert at Muscoates, ez grand 

 a whin ez ivver you seed, Ah'll awand ya, an' nivver widoot a fox in't. 

 Seea ez usuel on Setterda, t' hoonds wern't put in tweea minits afore awd 

 Passion fand him. An' efter they'd chucked him roond t' cover tweea 

 er three tahms, away he went pointin' fer North Holme, then tiv t* 

 river Dove, which sum o' t' keen young uns wad fain 'a'e lowped, bud 

 Ah sed, " Wheea, i' ther senses wad lowp 't when Sparrow Hall Brig 

 is close by ? " Seea away we went ower t' brig an' across a rare stiff 

 country, ta Edstone, where he turned tiv t' reet an' away for Barugh 

 Hill, past Marton, to Norramby, then across t' river Seven, where 



