cussedness that held him when he wouldn't go up the hill, he would hit a
bank or a wall full hard and turn head over heels into the next field. As
the weather, as a rule, was moist, and there was plenty of mud about when
Mick Molloy performed his athletic feat and I picked myself up from the
soft ground, I generally succeeded in attaching to my person a fairly
considerable amount of Irish soil. At this particular time one of the
great demands by Irishmen was for what they then called "fixity of
tenure." Can you wonder that, after my repeated attempts to annex as much
of Irish soil as Mick Molloy could help me to, the members of the hunt
christened me "Fixity of Tenure"?

I had a visit from one of the best riders in Ireland at that time who was
quartered at the Curragh, whose riding at Punchestown Races was always
good to watch and who had come down for a few days' stay with us. There
was a meet of the hounds; he wanted a ride. I offered him Mick Molloy,
who was in good form just then, and he accepted the offer. I warned him
of his one peculiarity. The morning of the hunt we rode out together. It
was in the direction of Ballynegarde. There was often a trap to be met in
the way of a sunken ditch over-grown with gorse, and unless one knew the
lay of it a horse was apt to rush through instead of jumping and find
himself and the rider at the bottom of the sunken ditch. I had forgotten
to warn the rider of Mick Molloy of this fact. We had a fine seven-mile
run in the morning and killed one fox. My friend was delighted with Mick,
for he had carried him to the kill without a fall. He was full of praises
of old Mick.

The hounds had a spell and, once more, they were thrown into covert. In a
short time "Gone away" was heard and the hounds streamed out, following a
good scent, across a beautiful piece of country. I got into difficulties
very early. Old Larry and I had a difference of opinion about a stone
wall. He wouldn't have it at any price. I had got out of the line and,
unless I could get over that particular wall, I was going to be out of
the run. So I made up my mind that over the wall Old Larry must go, with
the result that I got over the wall all right but Old Larry didn't. Not
only that, but, after giving what I thought at the time was a very
impertinent sniff, he put his head and his tail up in the air and trotted
off across the field, leaving me in full possession of the wall. That run
was over for me. Another belate