Frank Beers, Huntsman. 1 1 1 



A good old parson lived at Cosgrove during 

 the mastership of Lord Penrhyn who suffered 

 very much from the depression in agriculture. 

 Not being able to let his land, he was obliged to 

 farm it himself. He went in for poultry to a great 

 extent, but to add to his financial troubles the 

 foxes ate all his fowls. He was very prompt in 

 writing to me and giving a correct account of his 

 losses, while I was equally prompt in paying him 

 to the full. 



Lord Penrhyn was always ready to take the 

 hounds upon the first opportunity to relieve such 

 cases, and they soon went to the parson's neigh- 

 bourhood. 



Beers drew the spinneys all down and through 

 without a whim.per. I stayed outside, thinking 

 I might perhaps see a fox. Down an opening 

 in the wood came a hound we called Dexter, 

 trotting along thinking he was left behind. I 

 noticed that he held his head up, and saw that 

 he winded something over a wall, which he 

 jumped. Looking over it f saw a small stack 

 of rough faggots and the hound scratching at 

 the bottom. Beers was blowing his horn to go 

 away when we met at the gate ; " It's all a ' hum ' 

 about this old parson and his poultry, I would 

 never pay him another shilling ! " he grumbled. 



