THE COUNTRY 19 



Fell hunting engenders a considerable thirst, 

 therefore jugs of beer are in great demand. A 

 pint or two usually incites some hunter to song, 

 and soon the house will be echoing to the chorus of 

 " John Peel," " Joe Bowman," or some other local 

 hunting ditty. Gradually the gathering breaks 

 up, the hunters wending their way towards their 

 respective homes, and occasionally, en route, some 

 of them will see more than one fox. 



Talking of beer reminds me of the sign which 

 used to grace the famous " Mortal Man Hotel " in 

 Troutbeck ; and read as follows : — 



" Oh mortal man that liv'st on bread. 

 How cornea thy nose to be so red ? 

 Thou silly ass, that look'st so pale. 

 It comes of Sally Birkett's ale." 



The "Traveller's Rest," at the top of the 

 Kirkstone Pass (1476 feet), has in its time been 

 the scene of many a foxhunting " harvel " or 

 celebration. An old entry in the visitors' book 

 ran thus — 



" The Sunday traveller on the Kirkstone Pass, 

 Is bona fide and may have his glass : 

 So, gentle stranger, do not stop to think ; 

 Open your mouth, throw back your head and drink ! 



" And while reposing 'neath the bleak fell-sides. 

 As down your throat the nimble liquor glides. 

 Bless the kind parson ^ who with these rude stones, 

 Built this 'ere Inn to rest your weary bones." 



^ The Rev. — Sewell, formerly Vicar of Troutbeck. 



