A NOVICE'S EXPERIENCES OF MEATH 15 



waistcoats palpitating. Even after this there was more 

 falling about. Men don't often hurt themselves, I am 

 told. The ground does not fly at your head as it does 

 in the turnover Shires. And so we jumped into a lane, 

 and found ourselves — at the J\leet again ! Thirty minutes 

 — and safe ! " Horse not quite in condition." Have I 

 not some of my own waiting to be killed in their native 

 land ? Shall I risk casualty at the end of a week's hearty 

 enjoyment— of which the recent rough gallop has been 

 not the worst item? Not for a moment. "Go home 

 when you have enjoyed yourself " is a worthy maxim. 

 Now for a five minutes' trot — deer, hounds, and horses 

 — along a road. Then, having counted a dozen in all 

 (including the hard, clever staff), as comprising the party 

 now with hounds, and among them at least three soldiers 

 new to the country, I gave myself the order " Home." 



Of whom was the field composed — the field proper, 

 not its casual following — how can I possibly tell ? For 

 in most instances faces were as unfamiliar as the vari- 

 coloured backs that I saw skimming the plain before me. 

 But from one of Dublin's numerous morning papers I 

 gather that, besides the Master, Mr. J. Fox Goodman, 

 such notable men as Messrs. Percy-Maynard, Maher, and 

 Allen were among the riders, while, of faces not alto- 

 gether unfamiliar, I recognised Lord Southampton, Lord 

 William and Lord Charles Bentinck, Colonel Stockwell, 

 Major Lamont, Major Fisher, Captains Pilkington and 

 Onslow, Captain and Mrs. Steeds. 



A dozen couple of great slashing hounds composed 

 the pack — just such a pack, I imagine, as can best hunt 

 the red deer. 



But I had not yet done with the Ward country and 

 its little idiosyncrasies. Having loosened my girths and 

 lit the cigar of content, I watched the chase disappear 

 into the flat distance (they travelled, I believe, but 

 sufticiently far to make a fairly good run complete), then 

 1 turned my head to regain the road. " More power to 

 yer honour, remember the gateman ! " spake a native 

 with a muckcart. Well pleased with all I had seen, I 

 was gladly producing a shilling thank-offering for my 



