The Ballymacad Hounds at the Show 



big woodlands of Loughcrew ? Often it takes terrific 

 hound-work to convince Reynard that he would be 

 safer elsewhere, and it is during the process that the 

 beauty of Ogilvie's verse strikes so convincingly, as, 



" . . . the joy of the far-flung challenge sounds 

 Till it shivers against the blue." 



Then, of course, we have the nearest thing to an 

 Irish jungle in a place called The Murrins; acres of 

 tall, wild hazel, where the services of some local who 

 is familiar with the intricate labyrinths is almost essential, 

 and where a rider might be forgiven, if day-dreaming, 

 he suddenly awoke, expecting a wild pig to charge past 

 instead of a fox. 



Ah ! but there's plenty of grass country ! Equal to 

 the cream of famous Leicestershire ! No double-oxer, 

 cut-and-laid, post-and-rail fences, admittedly, but plenty 

 of banks, single and double, bank-hedge-and-ditch, 

 stone walls and bushed-up gaps, with occasionally a 

 rusty bed or nasty ladder added to liven events and 

 quicken the sales of iodine and sticking-plaster; and 

 here and there a yawning drain equal to the biggest 

 nightmare of open water in the Holderness or Devon 

 and Somerset countries. The only recipe for negotiating 

 this type of greedy monstrosity is the much- quoted but 

 very sensible advice given by Adam Lindsay Gordon : 



" You must have it at speed or not at all, 

 'Twere better to halt than to ponder.'" 



