296 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING 



shooting. On the first of September he would say 

 to his keeper, ' I have been your master for the last 

 seven months ; now you must be mine.' 



For growls and grumbles and prodigious feasts of 

 appetite, a keepers' and earth-stoppers' feast would 

 take a deal of beating. The atmosphere reeks of 

 foxes and pheasants, and beer and baccy. A certain 

 keeper was notorious for the justice which he did to 

 the feast. After eating an amazing quantity of all 

 sorts of roast and boiled meat, potatoes, greens, 

 haricot beans, dried peas, plum-pudding, cucumber, 

 and cheese, he would say, ' Now let's have a radish 

 just to top up with,' and then would think nothing 

 of clearing a whole dish of the most prosperous- 

 looking roots. This reminds me of a stopping- 

 feast incident concerning an old fellow who was a 

 sort of cross between a shepherd and a keeper, and 

 wore very loud corduroy trousers on Sundays and 

 feast-days. The dinner was over, and the usual 

 speeches and health-drinkings were well under 

 way, when the old chap, who had far to walk, 

 stood up and said to the chairman, c I thinks it be 

 time you an' me kiss'd and said good-bye.' 



One of the greatest sorrows that can overtake a 

 keeper is to be prevented by illness from being 

 present at an important shoot. This happened to 

 me only once, when I was knocked off my legs by 

 influenza the evening before a ' combined ' partridge 

 drive ; so it did not matter so much as it might 



