THE BRAES OF DERWENT COUNTRY. 53 



huuting, and at a time when he thought more of the gun than 

 of horse or hound. He was then living at Sherburn Tower, 

 and whenever he travelled on the local railway his company 

 was eagerly sought by any of the youngsters who might be 

 using the same train. On this particular occasion four or five 

 of us were in a railway carriage in Newcastle station, and the 

 train was on the point of starting when a tremendous swell, 

 followed by a porter bearing luggage, arrived just in time to 

 secure the only vacant seat. A perfect armoui-y of gun cases 

 and other shooting paraphernalia were handed in and stowed 

 away on the rack, and the train had hardly left the station 

 before the newcomer gave tongue. He was affable to- a degreei, 

 and though we were all strangers to him he at once fired off a 

 volley of questions as to the locality, the shooting, and so 

 forth. He was bound for the moors further up the line, and 

 he had just left a Scotch moor, where — according to his own 

 account^ — he had done wonderful things. Stories of his 

 prowess were poured out in quick succession, and at last he 

 told us how a day or two before he had bagged thirteen grouse 

 with twelve cartridges. Mr. Ramsay sat in the corner, with 

 a merry twinkle in his eye, and at last struck in: " That's 

 nothing," he said, " nothing wonderful at least. I once had 

 nine shots at the same hare, and never touched it, and that 

 w^as thirty years ago, before most of you were born." Our 

 new friend rose like a fish to the bait. " Excuse me," he said, 

 " but thirty years ago there were only muzzle loaders, and if 

 you did not touch the hare it would have been in the next 

 parish before you were ready to fire again." " That's all 

 you know about it," replied Mr. Ramsay. " It was like this. 

 I was standing in the comer of a field, and in front of me, 

 about thirty yards away, there was a large haystack. After 

 a while I saw a hare coming quietly along by the stack. I 

 fired and missed, and loaded again, and the hare went out of 

 sight. But she kept on cantering round the stack, and every 

 fifth time she came past I had a shot and missed." The story- 

 was received with roars of laughter, and was the last story 

 told in that particular train that afternoon. 



After Mr. Ramsp.y gave up the Prudhoe and Derwent 

 hounds there was a break of ten or eleven years before the 

 lat-e Mr. Wiliam Cow en formed his pack, and it is questionable 



