MASTERS OF THE MEATH. 



It will, I suppose, be generally conceded, at any rate 

 by Englishmen, that the Meath country is the best in 

 Ireland. But it was not always so considered, and, 

 indeed, it is only within comparatively recent years that 

 Meath, with its peerless pastures, has successfully asserted 

 its claim to be regarded as the Irish Leicestershire. In 

 the good old days of those hard-drinking, hard-riding 

 Irish squires whose rollicking dare-devil feats Charles 

 Lever has immortalised in Charles O'Malley, Harry 

 Lorrequer^ Jack Hinton, and Tom Burke of Ours, Meath 

 was hardly recognised as a hunting country. The 

 typical Irish foxhunter of that period cared for little 

 but ' lepping ' of the maddest kind. Stone walls were a 

 joy to him ; the glories of a gallop over grass lands 

 would have had no attraction whatever for him. It 

 required a more advanced civilisation, a more refined 

 taste in hunting, to appreciate the beauties of Meath. 



Time was when Kilkenny was reckoned first among 

 Irish hunting countries, when Sir John Power sent its 

 fame ringing across the channel, till even Meltonians 

 were tempted to come over and test the boasted 

 splendours of its sport. Nor were they disappointed ; 

 for, they found there the stoutest of foxes and the 



