ort itself--it lies
on the left-hand side of the exit from the harbour--is difficult to get
to. Either you had to cross by sailing-boat from Queenstown--there were
no motor launches--or else drive right round the long arm of the harbour,
at the end of which is Rostellon Castle. In the summer either trip was,
as a rule, quite enjoyable. If one wished to go to Queenstown or Cork, an
hour or so with a fair wind would land you at Queenstown. If, on the
other hand, time was no particular object, the drive to Middleton, the
headquarters of the hunt, was a most pleasant one. You passed Aghada
Hall, then Rostellon, farther on. You could rest at the Sadleir Jacksons'
hospitable home. But in the winter it was not so pleasant. The hunting
country was all on the inland side of the harbour. One's mounts had to be
sent round by Rostellon the day before the meet. And then, if those of us
quartered at Carlisle wished to get to the meet in time, we had to make a
very early start in our garrison boat, so as to reach Queenstown for an
early breakfast at the club, and then a long drive to the meet. Sitting
in an open boat at 4 A.M. on a dark winter's morning, with perhaps a head
wind and four miles of a choppy sea to battle against, required a
considerable amount of endurance and keenness, but we did it all right.
It used to strike me as an odd circumstance in those days that the
Tommies who manned the boat were so pleasant over the job. They were not
going to hunt. They were not out to enjoy themselves. We were. Yet there
were always volunteers, who apparently found pleasure in helping their
young officers, though at very considerable inconvenience to themselves.
But then the right Tommy is, and always has been, a good chap.

It was out with the Cork South United Pack of fox-hounds that I first met
with a serious accident. I was riding a ripping mare, which I had named
Kate Dwyer, and which, up to the day of this accident, had not given me a
fall. The hounds were running up a long gully. The fox did not seem to
have made up his mind as to which side of the gully he would break. Some
of us thought it would be to the right, and we were following the crest
of the gully on that side. We came to a stone wall on the slope of the
hill. It was a thin wall--daylight through it. One had only to give the
stones a push to make a very easy gap. I walked the mare up to it quietly
and was leaning forward to push the stones down with my whip, when, I
pres