THE CARLOW AND ISLAND 17 



country ; but my general impression, from what I saw 

 and from what I heard, is that the Carlow and Island is 

 rougher, less universally grassy, and, to ride over, little 

 less complicated than Meath. Many of its banks are 

 stone-faced ; walls are not infrequent, and bogs are by 

 no means unknown. But a good man on a good horse 

 (the two essentials for almost every country) can live 

 near enough to hounds over most of it. Taking the field 

 every three days a week, hounds have on one of those 

 days (Thursday, if I remember right) never less than 

 fourteen Irish miles to travel to covert, and, indeed, are 

 usually sent on overnight. Of the hounds themselves, it 

 is safe to say that no pack in Ireland is at the present 

 time at all equal to them. They have been in the same 

 family, and the same kennels, for some two hundred 

 years, and from father to son has descended not only the 

 love of hunting, but the faculty of breeding a foxhound. 

 The Fitzwilliam (Milton), as we know, have at various 

 times been largely indebted to the Ballydarton kennel 

 (for instance, in the case of the Carlow and Island 

 Singer) ; for the drive and determination of the Fitz- 

 william are quite in keeping with the qualities most in- 

 sisted upon by Mr. Watson ; hunting-power and the best 

 of blood being the foundation of his creed. 



The lady pack were taken to " The Fighting Cocks " 

 the day on which it was my privilege to see them (October 

 28, 1 891). A bright, level, and very sharp-looking pack, 

 as was afterwards evidenced in their work, wherein^ — 

 though this was by no means an absolutely good scenting 

 day — they showed themselves busy, eager, and bustling 

 as hounds could be. 



As I said in my last, Ireland was enjoying itself in 

 sunshine during the greater part of the time that England 

 was storm-beaten — there being at least no disturbance 

 nearer than Cork. By the way, I have come to realise 

 with thorough conviction what has been hinted to me 

 frequently for many a day, viz. that Ireland's true voca- 

 tion and use is hunting. The Green Island is properly 

 the field — the grandest of fields — of hunting, not of 

 politics. Given up wholly to the former, she would be 



B 



