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become the theme of song, and more than one rustic poet tried his hand upon a subject so attractive. Old Aileen had them all by heart, and many a time sung me to sleep with the music. But I can only remember a few verses of one, her especial favourite. Indeed I still retain a few tattered fragments of the original ballad, from which I transcribe one or two strophes for the amusement of the reader who may be curious in specimens of early Connaught minstrelsy. The song is to the air "The night before Larry was stretched."

After describing the circumstances detailed above, in which her offer originated, the poet goes on:

"The ladies began for to quake,

To turn up their eyes and cry 'shockin!'

ut blessins be on you, Miss Blake,

'Tis you's not ashamed of your stockin!

Fol lor rol, fol lor rol, follee."

The starting, with its preliminary arrangements are described, and the poet is eloquent on her "lilly-white hand," and

"Cheeks of the hue of tarnation."*

Then comes the whole progress of the race; how the discomfited squire, whose politics appear to have been blue, grew pale with vexation when he saw her success.

“Squire Jackson began to look blue,

And to hang down his big under lip;

His face grew as black as your shoe,
And as long as a mail-coachman's whip.

Follorrol, follorrol, follee."

Then each of her jumps is detailed in order; how, notwithstanding the want of a side-saddle, she sate firm and erect, like the following interesting assortment of heroes and heroines of antiquity

"Like Don Belianis of Greece,

Or heautiful Queen Berenici
Or Jason in search of the fleece,
Diana or Venus Medici!

Follorrol, follorrol, follee.

But the finale is interesting and energetic beyond all the rest.
"But whist!-Do'nt you hear the halloo ?—

By the powers Miss Kitty is ladin'—
Whooh! down with the orange and blue!

For the Blakes never liked retrogadin',

Follorrol, follorrol, follee.

Tales such as these, still kept alive the spirit; and as if to complete the good work of my education, Aileen took it into her head to get

* Query, hue of carnation?

up from her native county, her grandson, Mickey Foley, a boy of my own age, but full of all the wild, animal spirit of the rude mountains of Conemara. He was a lad of great intelligence and activity, but with lots of the "tare-an-ounthers" in his composition. I need hardly say that I soon made Mickey a companion; and the more so as he was an accomplished sportsman, and deeply learned in those nondescript departments assigned to the hangers-on of every large sporting establishment. From the baiting an otter-trap to the stopping a fox-earth, he was perfect in them all. He was an oracle on the haunts and tracks of game; knew at least half-a-dozen different styles of gins and nooses; and could soho a hare, if there were one within a circuit of ten miles.

My first out-door sport was concocted under his especial direction and management. It was a duck-hunt in the Liffey, the quarry being a veteran drake, and the pursuer, a rough Connaught water-dog named Cæsar, the property of my new friend, and as full of "thricks" and devilry as his master. I shall not describe this exciting, if it be not very refined, amusement. Cæsar performed wonders of diving in the chase. It lasted nearly two hours, at the end of which time the prudent Mickey rescued the still unexhausted veteran, observing that he might "serve us another turn, as Squire Grimby's spit said to the coley." And another turn, accordingly, we had out of him, and another; and I was just beginning to wonder how any one could follow any other sport but duck-hunting, when our fun was cut short by my tumbling into the river one day, and being brought home half-drowned and insensible to my terrified aunt, who soon discovered the entire proceeding.

Our duck-hunting was now at an end. Mickey and Cæsar fell into disgrace; and though I was not absolutely forbidden to speak with the lad, yet I was warned of the impropriety of making him an associate. Among Mickey's multiplied accomplishments, he was a first-rate horseman, and it was not long before he inoculated me with the spirit. Of course, at home, we had not the means, were we so disposed, of indulging it. The only bit of horse-flesh about aunt Mabel's quiet establishment was an old mare, Kathleen, called after my poor mother, whose favourite huntress she had been for a season, but she was now in her eighteenth year, and long since condemned to the humble and almost sinecure office of drawing the jaunting-car. But the fertile genius of my friend soon provided the ways and means. He had discovered, in the capacity of groom's helper to a gentleman in our neighbourhood, who had a very handsome hunting stud, a Galway acquaintance, and sworn sporting friend, with whom he had enjoyed many a "rousing spree." With his powers of persuasion it was no difficult task to induce Pether to let us accompany him every morning at five to exercise the horses in the Phoenix park; and we managed that I should be 3 D

NO. V.-VOL. I.-NEW SERIES.

back again and snug in my bed, before aunt Mabel had thought of leaving her room. It is amazing how fast my education proceeded under tuition so skilful as that of Mickey and his friend. In a few mornings, I had passed through all the successive stages, walk, trot, canter, and gallop; and, before a week elapsed, there was not a drain, fence, or paling in the whole park which I had not crossed; with many a tumble it is true, but yet, as they cheeringly assured me, "wid the rale Galway sperit."

For a time things went on swimmingly; but, alas! one morning, emboldened by success, I ventured to protract the lecture beyond the usual hour; and as the fates would have it, my aunt, who had business at an unusually early hour in Dublin, passed as I was in the act, in company with my two friends, of clearing the long paling, which, as my embryo sporting readers of Dublin and its vicinity may remember, stretches along, or used to stretch, opposite the vice-regal lodge.

This discovery" spoiled sport" with a vengeance. A promise was exacted from me, that, without special permission, I should never "mount a horse again," and Mickey was condemned to an honourable exile at a neighbouring school. But at that age restraint seldom produces a permanent effect. I soon began to long again for the for

bidden pleasures, and with

"The southerly wind and cloudy sky"

of each October morning, my mind would fly back to the hunting scenes which Mickey's glowing tongue used to paint for me. From my window I could see the game-keeper of a neighbouring nobleman, as, accompanied by his bounding dogs he trotted by every day on his Conemara pony. I fancied him the happiest man upon earth; and afterwards, while I sate in solitary listlessness within doors, the report of each shot would come to me, like a message from Elysium, to call me from the dull plodding world in which I was pining my life uselessly

away.

One morning, as I strolled vacantly about the pleasure grounds, aunt Mabel being confined to her room by a slight cold, a ragged nondescript urchin put a dirty and mysterious-looking billet into my hand, and immediately disappeared. It was from my exiled friend, Mickey, and apparently his first essay in letter-writing. In addition to a laudable disregard of the over-refinements of orthography, he had as yet but very glimmering notions of the distinction between capitals and small letters; but I will endeavour to transcribe it, verbatim et literatim; "dear misthur Mily, whisth! doant say A wurd to Anney Won. the kildairs meets too mora At ardrass, yu Cum & meit mee, weel Have A peep attem, ile Bee watin fuR yoo at the Cras rode Ablow nedy flanijanS. doant bee Afeerd-shoor. Its now Harrum two look attem. Whin yu doant Be dowin anny moR.

"Mabbee i ot to aks yure parding fur maKen sow bowle. butt yule

noT bee angirry with pure.

It was a most trying temptation.

MIKEY."

I knew not what to do. If I

could only be back before my aunt should have heard of my absence. I hesitated

To hesitate is, in such a case, to yield.

The morning came; I stole noiselessly from the house. But amid all the ardour and excitement of anticipated enjoyment, as I passed under my unsuspecting aunt's window, I could not suppress the fear that I was acting an ungrateful part. I was on the point of returning, when the voice of Mickey arrested me, and in a few minutes dissipated all my qualms. Tired of waiting for me at the rendezvous, he had come up to the house "to see what was coine of me."

We discussed with hearty good will, as we walked to the cross road, the bread and cold meat with which I had taken the precaution to provide myself; and Mickey's cheering anticipations soon dispelled all my misgivings. But what was my amazement when, at the turn of the road, my companion suddenly stopped, and led out of the ditch, where she was quietly grazing, the old mare Kathleen!

"Here's your conveyance, Master Milie," said my friend,

Kerryman said when he kissed his shillelah."

I shook my head, and expressed my hesitation.

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"The mistress won't want her to-day," said he, interpreting my look, "and as ould Momus is in Dublin, I took the loan of her on my way from my granny's this morning."

I hesitated still.

"Do you

"It is a long step to Ardrass," resumed Mickey. mount, and I'll trot alongside; or, if you think better, we can ride and tie,' as Dick Groogan's postboy said, and he knotting the ould

harness."

"But you know, Mickie," said I, "I have promised aunt Mabel never to ride a horse without her leave."

"Och, is that all?" replied my Mentor, with a look which I shall never forget. "Wisha, and sure isn't this a mare?"

How was it possible that this had never occurred to me before? Capital! all my doubts were at an end, and my honour was secured. The last trace of reluctance was swept away.

I mounted--but whist a bit! I'll tell you more about it anon. (To be continued.)

SCENES IN THE SPORTING WORLD,

PICTORIAL AND DESCIPTIVE.

BY WILDRAKE,

No. IV.

WATER SCENES.

Of all the elements "water" is not mine. I like "air' very well, without caring whether it come breathed from the sighing Zephyr, or blustered forth by rude old Boreas' leather lungs. I have stood "fire" with Monsieur Chabert in his red-hot oven until my metal buttons burned my fingers, and felt no mighty inconvenience. But against "water," whether it be fresh or salt-clear or muddy -liquid or congealed, in any shape, in any form, and under every disguise, my feelings constantly rebel. I have a most decided hydrophobia.

From the great deluge, which John Martin is so fond of picturing with little figures lost in a vast vacuity, down to the late "awful flood at Brentford,"-what can be said in praise of water? That it is good to wash with,-true;-that it boils vegetables,-true again; and what more? That it is wholesome drink for pigs, and cows, and washerwomen, and teatotallers. Who does not bear in mind the old story of Paddy's ready answer, when the parson twitted him for showing too constant an attachment to the bottle? "Oh, Paddy! Paddy! ain't ye quite ashamed upon ye, to be such a drunken dog? Look at the very brute-beasts o' the field, they all leave off when they have satisfied their thirst." "Thrue, yer 'onour-quite thrue"-replied Pat-" but did the brute-bastes ever come across a sthrame o' whiskey?"

To water-drinkers, I would have my readers (I cannot possibly suppose them to be such) propound the following three queries.

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Do you pay water-rates ?"

"Do you drink river-water?" and if so,

"Have you seen the microscope?"

Depend upon it that there is nothing of the true "go a-head" in water, excepting the live things.

For all that I have seen some water-sights; as I shall show the people presently and I'll begin by telling how, where, and when, my antipathy to water first began.

:

Bathing one day, whilst yet a "good little boy," at Hastings, with my elder brother, he, being a sad bully, as all elder brothers are, gave me a most decisive shove, as I stood quivering and quaking on the

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