266 SPORTING REMINISCENCES 



evil spirit, for misfortunes without end fell on 

 anyone who took the place. 



The first family left having lost two of their 

 members from sudden deaths. The'second, whom 

 I stayed with, cousins of my own, were absolutely 

 dogged by ill-luck there. Their horses died ; a very 

 valuable prize dog hanged itself by its collar on a 

 spike. My cousin's health broke down from ner- 

 vous strain, and the fear of the unaccountable 

 ghostly footsteps, the voices talking aloud and 

 the screams of laughter. 



Dogs, the Irish say, are peculiarly sensitive to 

 anything supernatural. My first experience of 

 listening to these noises was when the dog I had 

 in my room woke me by running whining on to 

 my bed. 



We took some fishing some years ago in Mayo. 

 Going to a curious old house buried in trees and 

 looking out on a dull backwater from the sea. At 

 full tide a lake of only salt water crossed by faint 

 currents ; at low a stretch of shimmering mud. 

 Across it one could see Knock Patrick towering 

 boldly up against the soft grey sky, and behind it 

 ran a bluff nosing down to the sea itself. The 

 charm of its wildness lay upon it, the rambling old 

 house was comfortable, the fishing in another year 

 must have been good, but we fell on an August 

 when the sun blazed brassily all day in a cloudless 

 sky, drawing a shimmer of ghostly steam from the 

 mud when it was bare ; weather in which no 



