Sm L. TALK, Bt.. AND SER J. DUXTZE. B:. 133 



was, I believe, over twenty stone. He it was who 

 made the artificial drain in the Xewtake, overlooking 

 Bishopsteignton, in the days of West lake, of whom he 

 was a staunch supporter. 



A great sportsman was Hollett the Kennford 

 baker, and somewhat of a character to boot. Not 

 content to hunt only with the Haldon Hounds, he 

 would, on occasion, get up at two o'clock in the 

 morning so as to finish his day's baking in time to 

 start at eight o'clock on a three-hours' jog to meet 

 Mr. Ross at Xew Inn or elsewhere, riding the horse 

 that was to carry him all day. This man loved hounds 

 and their work. '' Sir," he said to me, as the pack 

 spread fan-wise to recover the line, " a beautiful lady 

 is a beautiful thing : but a pack of foihound-s is a deal 

 beautifuUer ! '' Of course the weather never daunted 

 him. Once he observed me shivering, and I admitted 

 that I felt the cold intensely. He did not tell me, as 

 Jorrocks told Benjamin under like circumstances, to 

 '• think of ginger '' ; but he laughed out softly : 

 " Ah ! 'tis you lean beggars." Now, this, to some, 

 mav sound familiar to the verge of rudeness, but I 

 would have them know that our Devonshire country 

 folk are never rude. Frank and outspoken they are, 

 yet with a frankness that is never unkind, and an 

 outspokenness that is free from any intentional 

 disrespect. This attenuation of figure must, I 

 suppose, have been particularly marked, and I 

 remember a farmer once telling me that mv father 

 was " a finer-looking gentleman nor you'll ever be, 

 I reckon." That again was only his way, as I well 

 knew, of expressing appreciation of my father's 

 physique : he meant no disrespect to me. Alas I no 

 one calls me lean to-day I 



Old Hollett 's son and grandchildren have inherited 



