Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-06-30
AN IRISH FOX-HUNT.
Scenes of Widest Excitement at the
Kilballycuddihy Meet.
ALL DANGER is FORGOTTEN,
While Men and Animals Rush Madly on In
the Exciting Chase.
AN EVENTFUL DAY FOB HUNTsMEH
WRITTEN FOE THE D1srArcH.i

| WRITTEN FOE THE DIsPAfCH.i
Tumbling out of bed in the small hours
Of morning-plunging into an ice-cold bath
according to the time-honored custom of fox
hunters; struggling frantically with tight
top-boots, and then hurrying down to an
early breakfast; these are the preIminaries
of days hunting when the "meet" chances
to be at distance from ones domicile.
Everything is fuss and confusion at these
early hunting breakfasts. Du Maurier has
sketched one of them for Harper's; but he
fails to reproduce the hustle and ceaseless
activity OF the scene. His young Nimrods
helping themselves to cold chicken at the
sideboard look as though there were no
drive through thawing roads to Ballycur-
keen Gorse, or Twitterley Gross before
them. His jovial Squire is not apparently
agitated by any dread of being too late Tor
the meet, nor are his long-skirted, long
waisted maidens at all anxious in regard to
the straightness of their headgear.
The picture, to be realistic, should bs
filled by young men furiously devouring
the viands-fat, red-faced, relocated
! 'Squires, with big watches in their hands,
warning everybody that nobody can possi-
bly, be in time; and merry damsels skipping
biithely from mirror to mirror-twisting
veil here, fixing hat there, and rearrang-
ing their tresses in every direction. Then
there should be little Tom, in the corner Of
the great Tudor window, with one eye on
the plate before him, and the other watch
| ing for the advent of his gallant charger-a
corpulent Shetland. With a glimpse Of
waiting horses and dogcarts through the
window aforesaid, the picture would be COM
| plete. When breakfast is over
ARUsH Is MADE
for the hall door, Then there is mounting
of hacks, and leaping into traps, and vast
amount of maneuvering as to who is to be
the driver of certain lovely Dianas to the
'meet." At last, with tornado Of whip
cracking, and amid q storm of whirling
wheels and flying gravel the whole cayal-
cade starts off, down the long avenue,
through the gray mists of morning. The
grea: gates are already open, and hoofs and
wheels crunch merrily along the broad white
road; while the love-making carried on in
the dog-carts Is quite nauseous to staid old
bachelors, as we trot behind on our easy
going covert hacks.
We pass few market carts on their way
to the county town, and jog by the quiet
railway station where some booted and
spurred passengers have just got off the
morning train. These are officers from the
county garrison come to enjoy our sport.
Presently at another 'Squire's gates we are
Joined by party bound, like ourselves, for
the meet" and on the road we pass strag-
glers-the doctor on his gray, sporting
farmer or two, and not infrequently sport
ing parson Hkewise-all making for the
same destination, Kilballycuddihy village.
Soon, whirling round a gorse-covered hill
we sweep into Kilballycuddihy, horse and
foot In Ireland the population OF villages
is in inverse ratio to the length of their
names, so Kilballyeuddihy is but sorry
hamlet. 1t contains, however, street and
"square," and in the square are grouped
the early arrivals, who form the nucleus OF
"meet." First of all. the huntsman in his
red coat, sits on horseback amid the pack,
whose 1.-THE dappled forms hover around
the fanks of his horse or stray farther of.
BENT ON EXPLORATION,
until brought back by the falling thongs Of
the ever-watchful whfppers-in. Some Of the
dogs are lying down, their long, red tongues
lolling out, painting, and looking up wist-
fully at the face of the huntsman. These
are the old hounds who do not believe in
earlv exertion. Around the little party in
the center are sportsmen by the dozen-some
in red coats, many in black. A few car
riages have begun to drive up, and their
panels fash in the cold glare of the Decem-
ber sun. We take our places, and awaitthe
advent of the NJ. F. H.-that despot of the
chase. Presently he drives up in his spring
trap, and throwing off his greatcoat, mounts
the horse which has been waiting for him.
1t is the signal to make ready, and In q
jiffy we have exchanged our hacks and carts
for the fiery hunters. who have been blan-
keted until now.
The master has a mysterious consultation I
with the huntsman, and then the whips
crack and the whole concourse is in mo-
ton. We reach the covert side in few
minutes, and then there is another pause.
The dogs are sent in among the gorse and
underground. Cigars are lighted; brandy
TASKS are passed round. Filtration begins
anew over sherry and sandwiches For the
moment Reynard is forgotten. But anon
we are made aware of his presence. There
sounds ''view halloo" from the second
whip, far away TO windward, and the dogs
are seen scrambling in hot haste through
the briars and over the covert fence. In
stantly all is confusion. The huntsman's
horn brays loud and high across the field.
Cigars are thrown away TASKS are hur-
riedly slowed into saddlebags; horses
plunge and rear; maidens shrek, and red
coated 'Squires halloo one and all. "Stols
away 70 "Gone away p "Who-oopP' they
yell, and the whole field flies helter-skelter
at the low fences which bar the way.
AN EXCITING MOMENT.
But somebody heads the fox on the hill
side, and he wheels about, and makes for the
valley. We catch feeting glimpse of him
slanting down the hill to the pasture land
below, with the pack going like lightning,
seven fields behind. We, too, alter our
course. There is more kicking, more plung-
ing; but we are off at last, and the real sport
Of the day begins, as we dash madly down
the slope. Who cares for death with the
wind whistling in his ears-and stout Irish
horse beneath him? Who cares for death
when his lady-loye looks on his prowess
from under her long lashes, as she rides By
his side, as bravely as the best?
What reck we of our fallen comrades? On
we go once more; for the hounds are now in
full cry, and it is three miles 70 q covert.
Clatter, clatter down the stony hill; pop
over brawling stream at the bottom, upa
slight rising ground, and then for the broad
valleyl Oil those great doubles, those dread
stone walls, those lofty hedgesl When We
look at you in cold blood, we wonder at our
audaeity in daring to leap such obstaclesi
But in the fire and ardor OF the hunt we
think but little. Away across the big grass
fields starting the sleeping cattle with our
shouts and the music Of the horn. By-and-
by there is no shoutingl
By-and-by there are few left of the so who
started from the covert sidel Some are
lying beneath the oaks in the park, others
are scraping the mud from their garments
by the murmuring river. Some are chasing
their recreant steeds on the lonely hillsidej
some again are jolting homeward in coun-
trv oarta THAR beada urannad in handk Az