88 SPORTING REMINISCENCES 



Phelan had not jumped up, caught the bridle while 

 the horse was in the air, no easy thing to do, and 

 pulled him out of my way. 



The man who had ridden too close this meeting 

 held two horses while Phelan told him what he 

 thought of him, and the country people remarked, 

 referring to the language, that " 'twas fine begob," 



I was sent home. It turned out that the mare 

 was a determined runaway and had nearly killed 

 her previous owner. Donovan, then, lent me his 

 own cob, a piece of absolute perfection, on which 

 I had two nice days with the South Union. 



Mr. Russell, Master at the time of Staghounds 

 near Athlone, was the next Master I hunted with. 

 I had only two days there before I caught cold, 

 got laid up, and though I beheve it is the worst of 

 countries, my hunts were over nice banks and fair 

 going. The Master, on a big black, was a good 

 man to follow if you liked the biggest place in 

 every fence. High straight banks and not very firm. 



I had no more hunting at Athlone ; it was then 

 March, and the regiment left there in May, going 

 out to camp. 



Next winter I was at the Curragh in a hut with 

 two doors, two windows and two fire-places in 

 every room, a kitchen down a passage and per- 

 petual drums bumping everywhere. Winds roared 

 up and down the desolate little roads between 

 the huts, and also roared everywhere inside, so 

 that one was either roasted or blown away. 



