occupied the position of old and trusted servants, who were generally prominent figures in the elaborate funerals of great landowners of other days. At the funeral of the last Lord Egremont twelve gamekeepers flanked the head of the procession, which was ended by four hundred Sussex labourers in the beautiful old smock-frocks which the modern rustic is foolish enough to disdain. Lord Egremont's funeral was worthy of an old English nobleman, who had lived and died respected by the countryside about his hospitable mansion. Entirely pedestrian, it first of all proceeded round Petworth House, the coffin being drawn by sixteen men. Many gamekeepers were privileged individuals. Such a one was Hawkesworth, who was in the service of Mr. Coke at Holkham-a most eccentric man. He never associated with or spoke to any person, unless he was first addressed. He was very penurious, had accumulated a considerable fortune, which he had hid from the fear of invasion; and his death, at the age of seventy, was supposed to be occasioned by depriving himself of sufficient nourishment. Mr. Coke always furnished him with proper liveries; but his dress was of the most miserable kind, and he always wore an old painted hat, patched over with pieces of cloth. The liveries he had by him at the time of his death, and which had never been worn, are supposed to have been worth £100. He was known by the title of the "Walking Obelisk." Another keeper at Holkham was old Joe Hibbert, who had been a prize-fighter in his youth. On one occasion Sir John Shelley, who was celebrated for his neat sparring, challenged Hibbert to a set-to with the gloves, and some young men mischievously promised Joe a good tip if he would administer a little punishment to Sir John. Joe put on the gloves, but soon drew them off again, and turning round upon his backers, exclaimed, "Not for twice the money would I strike a gentleman." A great character amongst gamekeepers was Mr. Flower Archer, one of the King's Keepers of the New Forest, who died, aged eighty-six, in 1813. He had expressed a great wish that he might be buried with all his clothes on; to be conveyed to the grave in his own cart; and that half a hogshead of strong beer, and cakes for every one present, should follow the procession, and that his body should remain one hour on the church hill, in order that the cakes and beer might be distributed. Singular and eccentric as was his desire, it was rigidly adhered to, and strictly observed. Here and there, scattered through village churchyards, are monuments and inscriptions testifying to the esteem in which gamekeepers were held in the past by their masters. Against the north wall of Harefield Church, Middlesex, on the outside, was, and perhaps still is, a monument, with a representation in bas-relief of a gamekeeper and his dog, put up by Mr. Ashby, in memory of his faithful servant Robert Mossendew, who died in 1744. Underneath are the following lines: Another epitaph on a dog ran thus : To one, through all a chequered life, alone, A grateful tribute I would offer here! . . . Are there who pause, as doubting such might be In woman's love, or man's fidelity, And seek to learn in whom such virtues were? .. It was by no means unusual to commemorate the memory of some favourite dog by a picture or tablet. At Blo' Norton Hall, Norfolk, a perfect specimen of the smaller kind of manor-house, now happily occupied by a great authority on local archæology, and also a first-rate shot, Prince Frederick Dhuleep Singh, hangs a quaint oil painting of a sporting dog, on which are inscribed the words, "Oh Rare Blackwinder." Formerly the following epitaphs on dogs were to be seen under Euston Park wall, not far from the house. I am unaware whether they still exist to-day: A faithful and singularly intelligent spaniel (DUCHESS) lies buried beneath this wall; she was killed by an accidental shot while performing her duty in the Decoy Carr in the month of January, 1813. Surely the faithful dog is as deserving of some memorial as many men. The companion of man, since the days when our feeble ancestors of remote antiquity lived in caves, he certainly ranks second amongst God's creatures. The prominent features of his character are fondness and fidelity. There is no humbug about him: he never takes offence, and bears no malice, but accommo If dates himself to all one's tastes and humours. you are disposed to be serious, or there is business to be done, tell him to "lie down " and, throwing himself at your feet, he waits for hours in a state of the most perfect quiescence. If you are in gayer mood, give but the joyous signal, and he executes gambol after gambol, indicative of such strength and activity that you wonder how such a thing of life could lie still so long. In courtesy and gentleness of heart he yields neither to the most accomplished courtier nor to the mistress of your heart. An extraordinary instance of canine fidelity occurred about a hundred years ago in London. A poor tailor, who lived in the parish of St. Olave, Tooley Street, Borough, died and left a small cur dog inconsolable for his loss. The little animal would not leave his dead master, not even for food; and whatever he ate was forced to be placed in the same room with the corpse. When the body was removed for burial, this faithful attendant followed the coffin. After the funeral, he was hunted out of the churchyard by the sexton, who, the next day, again found the animal, who had made his way by some unaccountable means into the enclosure, and had dug himself a bed on the grave of his master. Once more he was hunted out, and again he was found in the same situation on the following day. The clergyman of the parish, hearing of the circumstance, had him caught, taken home, and fed, and endeavoured by every means to win the animal's affections: but they were wedded to his |