Curragh, and come down to the dogs again."

"Yes, but you've waited too long, man; the dogs have nearly done their
work for this year. I'm sorry for it; the last day of the season is the
worst day in the year to me. I'm ill for a week after it."

"Well, General, please the pigs, we'll be in great tune next October.
I've as fine a set of puppies to enter as there is in Ireland, let
alone Connaught. You must come down, and tell me what you think of
them."

"Next October's all very well for you young fellows, but I'm
seventy-eight. I always make up my mind that I'll never turn out
another season, and it'll be true for me this year. I'm hunting over
sixty years, Ballindine, in these three counties. I ought to have had
enough of it by this time, you'll say."

"I'll bet you ten pounds," said Bingham Blake, "that you hunt after
eighty."

"Done with you Bingham," said the General, and the bet was booked.

General Bourke was an old soldier, who told the truth in saying that he
had hunted over the same ground sixty years ago. But he had not been
at it ever since, for he had in the meantime seen a great deal of hard
active service, and obtained high military reputation. But he had again
taken kindly to the national sport of his country, on returning to
his own estate at the close of the Peninsular War; and had ever since
attended the meets twice a week through every winter, with fewer
exceptions than any other member of the hunt. He always wore