i8 THE BEST OF THE FUN 



fulfilling her fittest destiny. Riches would flow into her ; 

 and the men of Ireland, high and lovv alike, would be 

 working their common bent for their common good, and 

 for the good of their country. All politics apart, the 

 wealth of Ireland would be found in its country sports 

 and country life. These now only flicker — in many parts 

 have died out altogether — as candles without wax, for 

 want of sustenance, for want of food for a flame that would 

 naturally burn brightly. Several good countries — wild 

 (by which I mean open and unbroken), fox-hunting, 

 grass-growing countries in Ireland are already without 

 hounds, because they are without country gentlemen and 

 without funds. Ask these few remainder (by whom hunting 

 is still kept up) how the sport would fare were they, too, to 

 be forced to surrender their sadly attenuated properties. 



It is not everywhere in Ireland that the red coat is 

 donned before November ; thus the Carlow-and-Island 

 men were still in their mufti on the day in question. 

 Cub-hunting, indeed, it happened to be ; though I doubt 

 not a good old fox would have been readily meted out his 

 deserts had he offered himself. But of the several foxes 

 at Kellistown, the two elder for a long time only hovered 

 round their brood, like the parent birds of a young covey. 

 At last we had a quarter of an hour's scurry which touched 

 Mr. John Bunbury's place at Moyle, and brought us back 

 to Loch and the covert of Kellistown. Surely in the 

 history of last season (1890-91), broken and disappointng 

 as it was, no item of personal ill-fortune was so sad as the 

 accident that deprived Mrs. John Bunbury of her hunting. 

 I say it advisedly and without exaggeration, no lady we 

 have seen ride to hounds, where so many ride fearlessly, 

 skilfully, and well, had the knowledge and faculty of cross- 

 ing a country possessed by Mrs. Bunbury, who not only 

 rode to hounds in the most complete sense, but might even 

 have handled them herself. 



This pleasant trifle of a gallop began by hounds 

 working out a twisting difhcult line before throwing them- 

 selves into scent for fifteen fast minutes. Then they 

 and the sun kept us awhile at boiling-point. One may 

 learn something every day. One ought to — however inapt 



