The Lanarkshire and Renfrewshire Hunt. 31 



back. From Capellie Strips to Mount Top it was very fast indeed and we 

 seldom have such a pleasant wind up to a season. 



By way of relieving the monotony of historical detail I can here make 

 some reference to Ritchie, who was for many years a familiar figure in the 

 hunting field, and it is no exaggeration to state he was well known in every 

 part of Renfrewshire, especially with the agricultural classes. Ritchie 

 was extremely fond of a game terrier, and through the Master he came into 

 possession of a few very good ones with which he faithfully trudged over 

 the country in his efforts to be on the scene when required. There was 

 hardly an inch of Renfrewshire h$ did not know, and his intimate acquaint- 

 ance with " short cuts " enabled him to keep in remarkably close touch 

 with the pack. Most of the principal hunts have their " runner," as the 

 man with the terrier is called, and in some cases they assume a bearing of 

 considerable importance. I was much impressed with the appearance of 

 Harry Houghton, the well-known runner with the Quorn, when I first 

 saw him on the station platform at Leicester on the way to a meet of the 

 famous south country pack. 



Houghton was there in full regalia — scarlet coat, white breeches, and 

 hunting cap — with an up-to-date digging-out appliance strapped on his 

 back. It then struck me how nice it would be to see our own man Ritchie 

 in a similar rig-out, although his well-known aversion to anything in the 

 shape of uniform could hardly have been overcome. When I first knew 

 Ritchie as " Kilbarchan Jock," I believe he was employed as a weaver, 

 but the attraction of sport caused him to forsake the looms on hunting days, 

 for he was regularly with the pack in all sorts of weather. Many a mile I 

 have walked with him, and it was he who first showed Mr. G. Barclay and 

 his late brother the way across country. He was very positive in his opinion 

 as to what had happened or was going to happen, and he strongly resented 

 criticism, as I can well remember when I accused one of his terriers of 

 requiring a candle to show it the way up a drain. To all who knew him 

 well he was just plain blunt Jock, with many witty sayings, and while he 

 had his faults and failings like many another man, one could not help but 

 admire the sporting instinct so pronounced in the old fellow right to the 

 end of his days. Ritchie was well over seventy when he died at Johnstone 

 in September, 1918. The portrait given is from a photograph by Mr. 

 W. J. Finlayson. 



