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a visitor to his own meeting, and handsomely presented the cup to the 

 Englishman. McGrath was then looked upon as invincible, and was 

 freely backed for the next Waterloo at 6 to 1. 



He was the model of a greyhound when he appeared at Altcar the 

 following February, and he was slipped for the first round a ttrong 

 favourite. When in the last four, 6 to 4 was absolutely laid on him 

 against the field, which comprised Lobelia, Bab-at-the-Bowster, and 

 <Jhillie Galium, all of whom he bowled over, and thus won his second 

 Waterloo. 



The great dog was not again asked to run in public till the following 

 anniversary. Money was piled on him at 3 to 1 for the Waterloo of 

 1870, scarcely anything else getting substantial support, and of course 

 he was again favourite. 



The night before some scoundrel, paid well, no doubt, by still greater 

 ruffians, got at the dog and drugged him. Johnnie Walshe, his trainer, 

 had ample evidence of this in the piece of liver he found beside the dog 

 early next morning. The consequence of this villainy was that McGrath 

 went down pointless to the moderate Lady Lyon in the first round. 



Lord Lurgan naturally felt greatly annoyed, and resolved never again 

 to run the dog. However, in the following September he put him 

 through the mill in a trial at home, and having disposed of all the 

 private tackle with ease, his lordship slipped him for the Brownlow 

 Cup in the next month. Through it, for the three days, he showed 

 quite as good form, pluck, and killing powers as ever, and won the 

 stake, beating such cracks as Smuggler and Fritz. Accordingly, the 

 now old dog was put in training for his fourth Waterloo, and again 

 ivas he made favourite, but at longer odds than previously. 



Some weeks before the day, Master Ronald and Lady Grafton, most 

 excellent puppies of Lord Lurgan's, and the best in his kennel, were 

 selected as the trying tackle for McGrath, but he cleared them out 

 with consummate ease. No secret was made of the result, so Ireland 

 got on to a man. Not so the English, who went for Bendimere, 

 Smuggler, Countryman, and Pretender, believing it to be out of the 

 power of an old dog to beat such slashers. Still the Master was second 

 favourite to Bendimere the night of the draw. Time soon told its 

 tale, and although the little black had, in this Waterloo, once or twice 

 luck on his side, he ran in simply magnificent form, no one attempting 

 to dispute his right to any of the courses. 



When Wilkinson, then a very young man, put into the slips for the 

 "decider" of 1871 Mr. Punchard's Pretender and Lord Lurgan's Master 

 McGrath, never before or since was there such intense excitement on 

 Lord Sefton's plains, and probably there never will be again. Waiting 

 for a good hare, Wilkinson delivered his dogs to a long and splendid 

 slip. Amidst profound silence the cracks raced head and head for 

 sixty yards, when McGrath drew to the front, and, well clear of the 

 fawn, shot like a flash of lightning into his game, effecting a brilliant 

 kill without allowing his adversary to gain a single point. Tremendous 



