122 SPORTING REMINISCENCES 



heat rose up the smells in the rocks it bred typhoid, 

 and the place was gradually deserted. 



Some day soon it will slip and crumble to com- 

 plete ruin, and the waves leap over the terrace 

 to give the poor grey house ghost burial. 



Here again, a great golden-sanded bay, a wild 

 and glorious sea, endless expeditions to be made ; 

 the breath of life itself in the tearing keen west 

 wind, and just a little money would have made 

 the place habitable and profitable, for it is within 

 easy motor drive of Limerick and Ennis. 



I remember our train breaking down at Mary- 

 borough once, and, going to the hotel there, where 

 a long-haired poetical looking waiter offered us all 

 that man might wish for our dinner, as he smiled 

 a welcome. 



" Mutton, beef, soup, fish — why not ? " We 

 had two hungry men with us. Two were EngHsh 

 and were impressed and hopeful. 



Later he returned to say that " beef was not, 

 that, unless there'd be the chance of a dead sheep 

 in the shop, mutton was not, that a tin of soup 

 might be found, an' sure he'd give us a real grand 

 dish of bacon and eggs." 



But it was clean and comfortable, and the bacon 

 and eggs of the best of their kind. 



The little hunting hotels where men and horses 

 had to go on to for distant meets, and where one 

 ate heavy teas in the evenings, have been stamped 

 out by the motors. They are no more ; cheery, 



