MONTH OF THE SEASON? 315 



sand acres. All round inside this wall runs a con- 

 tinuous screen of planting, varying in width till at 

 some points the screen broadens into a veritable wood, 

 A wide ride runs along the middle of the planting, 

 following its course round the entire circuit of the 

 great park. Pleasure grounds, lakes, and streams are 

 contained within this area, also several clumps and 

 spinneys of various shapes and sizes, and the fox- 

 covert proper^-a little wilderness of privet and gorse 

 — is of all the most carefully watched and tended. 

 Indeed, the demesne is full of foxes, for the proprietor, 

 though a Master of Hounds in England, is not un- 

 mindful of the interests of the chase in the land of his 

 birth. 



The village is all astir to-day, for the county hounds 

 meet in the great stable-yard, and every lad that 

 carries a stick will be sure to see a fox, and most likely 

 will be present at his death. 



Meanwhile there are many horses to criticise, many 

 fast-trotting hacks in the buggies and traps that rattle 

 in at the gates, and glorious excitement when the 

 unmelodious tootle of the motor-horn announces the 

 approach of several of these vehicles which are now 

 familiar to the inhabitants of every Irish hunting 

 country. 



Soon we are following the Master, who hunts his own 

 hounds, down the pleasant green slopes towards the 

 woods. The yellow sunlight, breaking in shafts from 

 the heavy grey sky, lights up the scene, and brings 

 the scarlet coats of many horsemen into strong relief 

 as they canter down across the grass. 



Clear and resonant comes the huntsman's cheer as 



