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CHAPTER X. 



WITH THE KILLING KILDARES. 



If Meath — Royal Meath — be the premier hunting 

 county of Ireland, Kildare runs her pretty close, so 

 close that I doubt if the Kildare men allow the pre- 

 eminence of their neighbour. 



Now it so happens that of Meath I can only say 

 vidi tantum, for only five times in my life have I 

 hunted there, and of those few days one was with the 

 " Wards " and another with harriers. The latter 

 (the pack has long ceased to exist) showed me the 

 best fun I ever saw in the county. Meeting at 

 Fleenstown, they ran in that very good country for 

 seventy minutes, and straight, thanks to luckily 

 changing hares several times — to the grief and sorrow 

 of the Master (his own huntsman), who, having 

 ** taken a toss," arrived only in time to see one of the 

 field holloa his little beauties — for the fifth or sixth 

 time had he known it — on to a fresh bare. 



On this occasion, moreover, I jumped (by mistake) 

 what I believe must have been quite the biggest place 

 I ever negotiated. For, putting my mare at a fair 

 ditch, to me, and up-bank with a wattled fence on 

 top, I became aware, when too late, of a yawning gulf 

 beyond — not uncommon in Meath — and beyond that 



