The Sun.
London, England, 1834-12-22 00:00:00

RARE SPORT IN IRELAND.

The gentlemen of the Kilkenny Hunt proceeded in great
force to draw the cover of Burntchurch lately for a fox. The
atmosphere was mild and serene beyond the season of the
year ; but a little foggy, so that objects at any considerable
distance were not visible, and some things which were tolerably
near at hand appeared in an exaggerated and distorted form
through the mystific medium. But the rising sun looked pro-
pitious, the scent lay fresh and strong, and the members of
the club were all in high blood for mischief. 'Their mountings
and equipments were faultless. Cattle more sleek, or in more
perfect training, have seldom graced this aristocratic sport,
and the number of red coats afield exceeded all that had ever
before assembled for a similar purpose. A sporting fox with
a gray brush was known to be on the tramp ; for he had been
seen prowling in the coppice ; and from the glare of his eye,
'twas discernible that he was in a varment humour, and re-
solved to die game : nor was there a doubt on any reasonable
or experienced mind, that the long-spurred gentry, who were
so eager for a burst, would follow him to the land's end with
a whoop and a view holla, which would render for ever memo-
rable " the hunting- of that day."
But alack—as the Scotch gauger singeth—
" The best-laid schemes of men and mice
Gang aft awry."
One part of a good hunting apparatus, and that an essential
requisite (in the opinion of old sportsmen) for a successful
chace, was wanting. The huntsman indeed was there-- a
veteran of the right sort. The whipper was there—a capital
hand. The elite of the province were there, on thorough-
bred and never-tiring cattle. But the Pack—the Pack, Sirs,
was " over the hills and far away." Upon my life and honour,
it was very provoking, and almost incredible ; but so it was,
that three-fourths of the indite were at the very moment running
a buck, breast high, with Peirce Butler and a parcel of Radicals
from Jenkinstown to Ballyragget. Only a few stragglers remained
with the owners, and those so mangy and in such wretched
condition, that they were not fit to lay on the train of a tom cat.
Never was so splendid a preparation brought to a more impo-
tent conclusion. The set-out of this gorgeous cavalcade,
which had cost so many an anxious hour and so many hundred
pounds of good money, ended in the smoking of a few cigars
and a dry witticism of the whipper (not a Mr. Holmes),
who was among the last to turn his horse's head away from the
cover. As he rode off, he said to the lingering herd of disap-
pointed earth-stoppers, who were clamouring for largesse,—
" Don't blame us, my lads, if there is no run. We are willing
to do our part, if we had but the dogs ; and I defy the Duke of
Wellington himself to do more." The affair did, in fact, wear
altogether a very ministerial appearance.

FROM A CORRESPONDENT.—I have perused
Mr. Gisborne's irresistible address to his constituents. Let
the beads of the Reform party print a million copies, and dis-
tribute them through every house of 101. rental and upwards.
It will gain us ten thousand votes 1

Ripe Strawberries were gathered this week in a gar-
den at Lemington._Newcastle Chronicle.