MEMORIES OF THE COUNTRY PEOPLE 85 



of course once he had parted with her he had a 

 better one. This was a whistHng grey which he 

 lent to a friend of mine. 



There was a very stout fox at Castle Hewson 

 during the winter which had run the same line 

 four or five times, and beaten us in a network of 

 crags about five miles away. 



After the fashion of fox hunters we had grown 

 quite to rely on this fox to do it again. The line 

 was over flying stone walls and nearly all grass. 

 Mat was all for explaining that his young mare 

 was better than the old, so I chaffed him by offering 

 to bet that I would finish in front of him, if we 

 had the good hunt. 



Our fox did not disappoint us, and a lucky 

 turn coupled with the best stone-wall jumper in 

 Ireland left me in front going into the crags — 

 next curiously, was Mat's grey. 



" Now didn't I tell you the old mare was the 

 better of the two," I said laughing to Mat, when 

 he came up. 



" An' why wouldn't she," he growled, " nothing 

 but a sop of hay above on her back — that's the 

 weight of ye." 



Last year he told me I was getting " ould." " Six 

 year now '11 see the rid of ye," said Mat candidly. 



" Give me ten, Mat." 



" No, but six. Haven't ye a son an' he in the 

 Army." 



Foxes have some very bad habits. If anyone is 



