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About the year 1874 my friend, the late Mr. Frederick Malcomson, 

 and I rented a mountain in the west of Ireland, and brought with 

 us for a month's shoot three setters and eight pointers. This number 

 was, of course, over that required, but I always loved seeing dogs work 

 more than I did the shooting, and for that reason I generally worked 

 more at a time (particularly on a mountain) than most people. 



One day I took out the whole crowd, and gave them a run together 

 for a couple of hours. Oh, such sport as that was ! for all my dogs 

 knew their business, and so did those poor Fred brought. On several 

 occasions two packs, or odd birds, would be found at the same time by 

 different dogs, with some of the others backing them as they set, while 

 the remainder were ranging far away, or doing work which drew their 

 attention from the others. Fred would go to one lot while I went to 

 the other. 



On one occasion three dogs set the same pack of grouse, and every 

 one of the others backed them. So perfect a sight I never saw with 

 dogs before, nor shall I ever see again. Those eleven dogs setting and 

 backing were in every conceivable position, some sitting on their 

 haunches, others half turned round towards the dogs with the birds, 

 while these would ever and anon turn their heads cautiously to see 

 why we were delaying, for, truth to say, Fred and I were transfixed with 

 the exhibition, and stood for many minutes admiring its perfection. 



However, it would not do to continue that sort of work if we wanted 

 to shoot grouse ; for a few repetitions, needless to remark, would 

 have made the birds so wild they would never let us near them. In 

 spite of this I think I should have continued it, but Fred would not 

 have it, so afterwards we took out the dogs only in orthodox fashion. 



Our shooting was in about the wildest place I ever visited ; it was 

 forty miles from the nearest railway station, ten from a post-office and the 

 place where we could buy fresh meat. We put up at a farmer's house on 

 the banks of the river Moy, but it was harvest time, and no one could 

 be spared to go to market for us. 



We brought some fresh meat with us, of course, but it was not long 

 before our supply was demolished, or succumbed to the hot weather, so 

 that we had none except what we shot. For the first ten days we 

 had for dinner soup made with the essence of hare and grouse, trout and 

 salmon caught in the river within twenty yards of the house, while 

 grouse, hares, snipe and plover were our releves. We came well supplied 

 with Ayala, 1868, not to speak of "John Jameson," so with tea and 

 delicious mountain cream, butter, eggs, and griddle-bread, we were well 

 *' done." Although we cooked the hares and birds in every imaginable 

 manner (and well, too, albeit I was the chef), we got tired of roast, 

 jugged, and hashed hare, roast, baked, and broiled grouse, and longed 

 for beef or mutton. Poultry we got from the farmer's wife, but had a 

 surfeit of it also, as we had to make breakfast and luncheon, of course, 

 off the same fare as the dinners. 



By-the-by, we found no way better for cooking a grouse than, after 

 having him drawn, and a large piece of butter put inside, plastering 



