102 SPORTING REMINISCENCES 



pince for the quarther sthone of male, an' the 

 mate up an' all. God help us — we cannot live." 



The very small shops are making their harvest 

 and the poor must suffer bitterly. 



A good many of the priests hunt and go very 

 hard ; one has got a yellow hunter which I envy 

 sorely, but he would not sell. 



I have a friend who lives about ten miles off 

 and who is particularly amusing in his solemn way. 

 His brother rides a gay grey horse ripe in years, 

 taken reluctantly from the cart for a day's hunting. 

 This grey sits up at every wall, it never comes out 

 in the banks, paws any stones it can off and then 

 heaves over. 



We met at Adare one day lately, and Johnny 

 asked me who a stranger lady was. " She there 

 with a sphur tackled to her heel." I told him. 



" Because she hit Dan a cruist down at Castle 

 Hewson. She met him an' the grey as she put 

 them rowlin' rowlin' up the field. Over and over. 

 An' if he had to rowl another fifty yards he was 

 into a trench that has no bottom, the craythur." 



''Fifty yards, mark you ! " Johnny's face was 

 quite grave as he explained what in his opinion 

 might have happened. 



We have a very cross farmer who lives near 

 Grange and who objects to our riding across his 

 land. Of course the fox makes a point on it. 

 This year, he stormed out furiously quite unheeded 

 until he encountered one man who had been late 



