262 THE BEST OF THE FUN 



Rugby Steeplechase Course. And I saw Mr. Burke ride 

 past the judge, a winner for the fourth year in succession 

 of the Red Coat Welter (this time with the old mare 

 Vanity). The Light Weight contest, having at least three 

 " race-horses " among its entries, was run at racing pace ; 

 especially, if I may venture to add, on the part of one of 

 the leading members of the Hunt, who went off at a 

 tangent, and at such speed that he soon disappeared from 

 view of his anxious friends. And, as a matter of fact, it 

 was only when, like a hunted stag, his runaway steed came 

 round exhausted, to soil in the river Moyle, that his safety 

 was assured to sympathising comrades. A very pretty 

 contest was this. It only remains to add that, after a 

 field of nine or ten had kept well together throughout, 

 the gallopers came through at the finish, and the race was 

 easily won by Mr. Dobbin's Lady Golightly. 



A great day for the countryside is a meeting of this 

 sort in Ireland. If to you, as it did to me, it would con- 

 stitute a new experience, go and see for yourselves. It is 

 altogether beyond my powers of description, equally as it 

 would be a vain attempt to reproduce the running com- 

 mentary of my ragged companion on the first high bank. 

 He, too, had chosen this point of vantage ; and, with a 

 liberality betokening nature's gentleman, had lent me the 

 tail of his coat that I might hoist myself after. It came 

 off in my hands ; but this he did not mind a little bit. It 

 rather established a mutual understanding ; and through- 

 out the race his glib comments, directed chiefly upon 

 riders (by Christian name mostly) rather than upon horses, 

 were of invaluable service towards appreciation of the 

 struggle. How could I essay to convey the smartness 

 and repartee of the dark-eyed ladies tempting me to buy 

 oranges at their swarthy hands ? Exhausted by impor- 

 tunity, I urged I hadn't a copper left. " Faith, it's silver 

 I'll take, yer honour!" And silver she got, in the shape of 

 my last lucky sixpence. "God bless ye! ye've helped a 

 poor widow," was gratitude enough for all obligation, me- 

 thought, till a rival beauty chimed in. "A widder, yer 

 'anner ! she's only a grass-widder, and that since morning. 

 Sure I'm the same, and I'll drink yer 'anner's health, too ! " 



