T8 RETROSPECT 



he was always there or thereabouts to save the deer or 

 take his hounds home. His memory is still held in 

 veneration among-st the Irish hunting men of all classes 

 who knew him, and ever will be, so long as they live 



The loss of two such men as Leonard Morrogh, the 

 master, and Brindley, his servant, is not only a loss to 

 us who knew them so well and who hunted with them 

 so constantly, but is a calamity to Ireland generally. 

 The present huntsman to the Ward, Jem Brindley, 

 Charlie's son, is following in his father's footsteps, and 

 bids fair to be equally successful and popular. For 

 myself, alas ! I am no longer as light as I used 

 to be, but I long to be with them again as of yore, and 

 I can hardly express how great the longing is at times, 

 never more so than when, as now, I am again crossing 

 the old country, though, alas ! but on paper. I often 

 dream of former days with Sam Reynell and the 

 Meath, and of a certain gray horse which carried me 

 for years without a fall The fatal accident which 

 befell Leonard Morrogh has recalled a host of 

 memories. Many were the Board of Works drains 

 which he alone of all the field was able to negotiate. 

 How many of those who tried to follow were interred 

 therein ! Do what we would, even if mounted on the 

 best of horses, if we ever did succeed in getting on 

 terms with him it was useless trying to shake him off. 

 Nothing but the experience gained by riding carried 

 the day in those big runs. No jealous man could ever 

 have lived to the end, but would have been done for, 

 with hounds racing for fifty minutes or more without a 

 check, with their heads up on a breast-high scent ; and 

 such runs were so frequent in those days that it was 

 dangerous work attempting to ride unless you knew 



