THE FOX IN SUMMER 149 



the first occasion on which I saw it happen. This was 

 in Ireland, and, alas ! it is many, many years ago. 



The Curraghmore hounds had met at Listerlin, and 

 were drawing a gorse covert — name forgotten. How 

 vividly the whole scene comes before me as I write ! 

 The pleasant balmy afternoon on the grassy hillside, the 

 wild, green fields of the Ross country stretching away 

 to meet the dull grey sky ; John Duke's eager face as 

 he rises in his stirrups, and twists his mouth to cheer 

 his darlings ; the glorious music that rose from all 

 parts of the covert — I can hear it now, here in this 

 old arm-chair. 



Three rustics on the top of a bank in the Browns- 

 town direction will surely head the fox if he should 

 break that way, and even Lord Waterford's sonorous 

 voice fails to convey to them his wishes that they 

 should come down or hide behind a gorse bush on 

 the fence. 



Away goes a magnificent fox, with a tag to his 

 brush of really dazzling whiteness, and straight for 

 those rustics he heads. The pack swarm out not a 

 hundred yards behind him. The excitement is intense, 

 and just as his lordship appears to be about to with- 

 draw his restraint from the eager but obedient field, 

 a lady's horse elects to lie down and have a pleasing 

 little roll. Among those who assisted the Amazon 

 I was not the least irate, and the flick of the whip 

 which brought that misguided quadruped to his feet 

 was an exceedingly bitter one. What a curious sight 

 did we behold when gallantry permitted us to turn 

 our attention to the chase ! Hounds had been able 

 to run but slowly ; the fox had been headed by the 



