58 MELTON AND HOMESPUN 



" Whisht, ye divils ! " shouted Pat Lynch, Tim's right- 

 hand man in the field. " Sure, we've got to fix the meet 

 for next Saturday; let O'Leary look afther his colours 

 himself." 



In the Longbally district hares were few and far 

 between, as the estates were divided chiefly into small 

 holdings, and hares, therefore, very naturally fell a prey 

 to the guns of the tenants. Timothy consequently pro- 

 posed that the opening meet should be held at Black Bog, 

 a wide tract of sparsely populated moorland and swamp, 

 which lay some six miles from the village of Longbally. 

 This proposal met with the warm approval of the rustic 

 sportsmen, as a good day's hunting was assured by the 

 fixture. 



On the appointed day, Tim O'Leary, in all the glory 

 of his new uniform, and surrounded by some seven or eight 

 couples of nondescript hounds, from twenty-inch harriers 

 down to the smallest of rabbit-beagles, started out of the 

 village, pursued by the good-natured witticisms of every 

 Biddy and Molly from her doorstep, to walk the six 

 miles or so of steep road which lay between Longbally 

 and Black Bog. Every now and again the old huntsman 

 would wind a loud call on his battered horn whilst pass- 

 ing some cottage or small farm on the road, and at 

 the sound a fresh addition to the pack would be seen 

 making its way across country towards the slashing 

 green coat. 



So staunch were the hounds that day, and so fast the 

 runs, that the young Squire's initiation to beagling was 

 attended with but little success in the way of gaining 

 a knowledge of the art of hare-hunting. But upon taking 



