26 GUN, RIFLE, AND HOUND. 



nor wired. Lastly, while no " real good thing " ever 

 had many " in it," there must be a few friends with 

 you throughout to help you talk of "the run " for the 

 rest of your life. Now let me turn to my old diaries 

 and see if I can find you a run which answers all the 

 above requirements. Ah ! here we are. 



No, I'm not going to tell you the name of the 

 pack. As in my time I have hunted with more than 

 threescore packs, it will, I think, be a little difficult 

 for any of my friends to identify it without my 

 assistance. From the Pytchley to the Coniston, from 



the Meath to the but it's hard to say which is 



the most scratch of the many Irish scratch packs ; you 

 may take your choice. 



The day was the i2th of April, a late one for 

 hunting, but March had opened with a fortnight's 

 frost, and the season was backward. The day was 

 fine and pleasant, with just a touch of sharpness in the 

 air to help us to forget that the next meet advertised 

 ended with those ominous words, u to finish the 



season.' 3 



The meet was at Bridge, an old stone 



structure spanning a boggy brook, which flowed 

 through a narrow valley. Many of the field had 

 assembled thereon when the hounds arrived, so the 

 Master, who hunted the hounds himself, stopped on 

 the bridge. It was only just eleven o'clock. Presently 

 an old hound got over the wall and commenced 

 feathering up a boggy bit leading towards a small 

 covert of gorse and rushes, the ground between which 

 and the bridge was unrideable bog. 



