1 88 O'er Crag and Torrent 



but the " Laird " was so dog-tired that he 

 slept through it all. The torture inflicted 

 by the attacking squadrons must, neverthe- 

 less, have been terribly severe, for by 

 daylight he was verily a " bloated knight of 

 the rueful countenance." That night fairly 

 finished us no more fishing the place 

 was hateful to us. We eschewed the 

 attractions of Punchestown and fled to 

 dear, dirty Dublin, to purify our minds 

 and bodies with whisky and hot baths. To 

 this day Blessington is anathema to us, and 

 we shudder to our marrow if we even hear 

 the name. 



