J.B. Wiley

Leading a long line of wandering fools, the field master Mr. Wiley marches forward, following the Tewksbury Foot Bassets across fields and through hedgerows. The wooden whips he carries bears the inscription “J.B. Wiley.” The “B” stands for boy, or so he tells us. On his feet are two white sneakers, which soon accumulate the mud of the fields and woods. He points them out to us, pretending to worry that his mother will surely scold him for getting dirty. He’s near about ninety, but we don’t question that old Mrs. Wiley is at home, fretting over muddy sneakers.