THE ORMOND HOUNDS. 227 



ponds of Peterfield, in the teeth of the most desperate storm I ever 

 witnessed of rain, hail, and wind. Distress was now evident in the 

 field, for notwithstanding the violence of the gale, 'the pace' was 

 maintained. This was the most desperate part of the chase, and 

 as the foxhounds approached the covert, I thought they had got 

 wings ; the rain beat so violently, with difficulty we could hold our 

 bridles, the boughs gave way to the -storm, the ' Light Infantry' 

 were flying at him, and the crash was dreadful. The earths at 

 Peterfield were open, but reynard scorned the advantage, and gal- 

 lantly broke amain. He now made for the river Shannon ; some 

 object changed his direction, and away with him to Claprior. He 

 crossed the great drain of the Lough, and here we left young Burton 

 Persse sticking, who had come ' all the way from Galway,' to enjoy 

 a regular cold bath. He went down, tail foremost, and * no blame 

 to him ;' there was no time for ceremony, but Tony, who knew the 

 depth of the ditch, took his leave of him, roaring out — 'I'll never 

 see your sweet face again I ' 'By George 1 ' says the Colonel, ' you 

 never were more mistaken. I never saw him more at home in my 

 life. He's used to these things ;' and truth requires me to state 

 that he joined us again, and before and after the bath he held a 

 capital place ; and many a mile he went by the old castle of Ard- 

 croney, famous in the annals of hunting, and all over its beautiful 

 grounds, and over the great bounds drain, into Coolagoran again, 

 for poor reynard had now cast a forlorn look towards home at last. 

 There was a disposition to give him life, but what could we do ? 

 ' Old Winner' was at his brush ; Her Majesty's Guards could not 

 have saved him. Thus ended a chase, during which we traversed 

 about twenty-five miles Irish (making thirty-two English) of the 

 finest portion of Lower Ormond. In running, Messrs. Fitzgibbon 

 and Henry Westenra took a most sporting leap ; a gentleman of 

 the jockey type, who rode well through the chase, wishing, no 

 doubt, to show us the length of his neck, craned at it, and swore 

 that it was the ugliest place in Europe, and that a flock of sheep 

 could be easily hid in it. There was a very numerous field at find- 

 ing ; but during this most desperate chase, George Jackson rode, 

 as usual, with the hounds, as did also Lord Rossmore, Colonel 

 Eyre, Messrs. Fitzgibbon, Henry Westenra, Richard Falkiner, and 

 Burton Persse, all through." 



•' By Jove ! what a run ; but twenty-five miles at 



