46 SPORTING REMINISCENCES 



shocked, for he scrambled over the high place 

 flippantly and ran away three times . . . round 

 that field ... I seemed only able to turn him 

 and I even called for help. 



By the time I had finished the second round, 

 the rocks were abandoned and one of the angriest 

 men in Ireland was yelling to Patsy or Miky for 

 the love of God above to hurry on with the key 

 of the gate or he'd be rooned. 



The Master and some people who had come up 

 were allowed to go through just as the Wizard 

 now chose, under my directions, to run away 

 across the road and up to where hounds were at 

 fault, and as far away from that man as he could. 



We had one very sad incident during my stay 

 at Kilkenny when Mr. John Smithwick died on 

 his way to the meet. He had given up hunting 

 but was driving to look on. Driving himself too. 



Then we had a veritable world turned upside 

 down day once — one man being actually blown 

 off his horse, and no one, I think, took home a hat. 

 It was a solid roaring storm and we wanted Mr. 

 Jorrocks to counsel as to not taking hounds out 

 on " a werry windy day." 



A ' werry ' snowy day is nearly as bad. I went 

 out with the Tipperarys my last year at Kilkenny 

 to find snow thick in the ditches. 



*' Such fallin' never ye see," as the country 

 people said. Horses did not know where to take 

 off or land and we went flounder in and flounder 



