272 THE COMPLETE FOXHUNTER 



were "down," we used to borrow the pack, and locate 

 them at Broadwood or Woodlands, a dozen miles west 

 of Durham, and have them out sometimes on three 

 consecutive days. Old Peter used to come with them, 

 and between us we managed to kill a hare or two, but 

 there was no Ground Game Act in those days, and 

 hares were far too numerous for sport. 



A year or two later, in the winter of '67-8, owing to 

 an accident at school, we spent the best part of a year 

 at Woodlands mentioned above, and with a couple of 

 ponies succeeded in securing an average of four days a 

 week with foxhounds or harriers. And of the latter 

 the now defunct Wolsingham pack were most fre- 

 quently in our neighbourhood. These were harriers 

 of a very old-fashioned type, high on the leg — probably 

 twenty-two inches — very light of bone, slack-loined, 

 flat-sided, and light in colour, but they could hunt a 

 hare, having wonderful nose and a great deal of pace. 

 The pack only numbered seven or eight couples, and 

 their huntsman, one Vasey, was a regular Jonathan 

 Jobling, being probably twenty stone in weight. He 

 rode a strongly built '* Dales" pony, and his language 

 — unshackled Doric with a Northern twang — would 

 have been quite unintelligible to a Southern. He 

 would take his hounds off the road into a moor edge 

 allotment, and begin in stentorian accents, *'How 

 shift her ! How shift her. Comely woman ! How shift 

 her off the ling !" and he would in this fashion talk on 

 to himself all day long, but he seldom addressed a 

 word to any of his small field, and in all our life we 

 have never seen a man who was more thoroughly 

 engrossed in his occupation, or apparently more sullen 

 over his hunting. But he was an enthusiast from the 

 button of his hunting cap to the soles of his hob-nailed 



