HUNTING. 167 



and listen to tlie original observations of the 

 Irish peasantry, to whom a sight of the hounds 

 — especially when followed by ladies — is a 

 treat they never care to miss. 



I was riding last winter in company with a 

 lady, very noble, very handsome, very proud. 

 We came up to a branch of a river, upon the 

 brink of which some country folk had gathered, 

 with the innocent desire of seeing it jumped. 

 A poor man, very quiet-looking and harmless, 

 was actually knocked down and immersed in 

 the water by a reckless young officer, who 

 galloped over him, and went on without even 

 glancing back at the spot where the poor half- 

 drowned creature stood wringing his dripping 

 clothing, yet not uttering a syllable of re- 

 proach. My companion roared with laughter, 

 first at the catastrophe, and then at me for 

 sympathising with the sufferer. " Apologise ! " 

 she cried, in a high key. '^ How could Captain 

 Dash apologise to a man like that ? It would 

 be different had he been a gentleman." I 

 thought so too, if the meaning of the word 

 "he" had only been reversed; but I said 

 nothing, and we went on. 



