106 MEMOIUES OF GLENAUGH. 



were unable, however, to come at the plover, 

 in consequence of a number of lapwing 

 mixing with them, and rendering them unap- 

 proachable. As the evening drew on, we were 

 gratified by noticing the wind shifting to the 

 north, and a flush in the sky betokening frost. 



" Egad, Will/' said my uncle, rubbing his 

 hands as we gained the portal of the Wisp, 

 " if the weather hardens a bit, we'll have the 

 cock in the mountain in a day or two." 



That evening, as usual, we had a long gossip 

 after dinner. My uncle had an inexhaustible 

 budget of stories, most of them relative to an 

 extinct race of wild Irishmen, whose doughty 

 deeds on horse and foot, with gun and pistol, 

 he well remembered. There was one anecdote 

 which, as illustrative of Celtic pluck, I may 

 be pardoned for repeating. I will tell it as 

 nearly as possible in the manner that I heard 

 it. My uncle used to call it 



DICK POOLE'S JUMP. 



Dick Poole's father came of a stock, the 

 Pooles of Poolgarra, of hard drinkers and hard 



