hree married brothers arrived at Baron's Court with their entire
families, and remained there till January, so that the house
persistently rang with children's laughter. What with governesses,
children, nurses and servants, this meant thirty-three extra people all
through the winter, so it was fortunate that Baron's Court was a large
house, and that there was plenty of room left for other visitors. It
entailed no great hardship on the sons, for the autumn salmon-fishing
in the turbulent Mourne is excellent, there was abundance of shooting,
and M. Gouffe, the cook, was a noted artist.

Both my father and mother detested publicity, or anything in the nature
of self-advertisement, which only shows how hopelessly out of touch
they would have been with modern conditions.

My father was also old-fashioned enough to read family prayers every
morning and every Sunday evening; he was very particular, too, about
Sunday observance, now almost fallen into desuetude, so neither the
thud of lawn-tennis racquets nor the click of billiard-balls were ever
heard on that day, and no one would have dreamed of playing cards on
Sunday.

It would be difficult to convey any idea of the pleasant family life in
that isolated spot tucked away amongst the Tyrone mountains; of the
long tramps over the bogs after duck and snipe; of the struggles with
big salmon; of the sailing-matches on the lakes; of the grouse and the
woodcocks; of the theatrical performances, the fun and jollity, and all
the varied incidents which make country life so fascinating to those
brought up to it.

It was the custom at Baron's Court to have two annual dances in the
barn to celebrate "Harvest Home" and Christmas, and to these dances my
father, and my brother after him, invited every single person in their
employ, and all the neighbouring farmers and their wives. Any one
hoping to shine at a barn-dance required exceptionally sound muscles,
for the dancing was quite a serious business. The so-called barn was
really a long granary, elaborately decorated with wreaths of
evergreens, flags, and mottoes. The proceedings invariably commenced
with a dance (peculiar, I think, to the north of Ireland) known as
"Haste to the Wedding." It is a country dance, but its peculiarity lies
in the fact that instead of the couples standing motionless opposite to
one another, they are expected to "set to each other," and to keep on
doing steps without intermission; all this being, I imagine