In the Research, in 1867, we had a quartette of hunting men, Cæsar Hawkins, Lascelles, Forbes and myself. We used constantly to hunt together. Lascelles was one of the best riders I have ever known. He could take a horse through or over anything. The Research was stationed at Holyhead at that time, because it was believed that the Fenians had planned to destroy the steamers running from Holyhead to Ireland and back. I used to go across to Ireland from the Research to hunt with the Ward Union near the Curragh, and return the same night. A long way to cover.
"The Three Brothers'" race is still remembered in Ireland It was ridden by Lord William, Lord Marcus, and myself. Each of us had his backers, but the crowd was at first firmly convinced that the result of the race had been arranged between us. I believe I had the best horse, but he was unfortunately taken with an attack of influenza while he was coming over from England in the boat. Lord William won by a short head from Lord Marcus, and I was a length behind. Lord Marcus reminds me that each of us, while secretly fancying himself intensely, enthusiastically eulogised the other.
I quote the enthusiastic account of the race written by an eye-witness, which appeared in The Waterford News at the time. (The Waterford News, 4th January, 1901. Account by Mr. Harry Sargant, from his Thoughts upon Sport, and description in The Waterford News, The Three Brothers' Race, 30th April, 1874.)
"Lords Charles, William, and Marcus Beresford had a sweepstake of 100 sovs. each, p.p., three miles, over the Williamstown Course, twelve stone each, owners up. Lord Charles rode Nightwalker, a black thoroughbred horse, and bred by Billy Power, the sporting tenant of the course; Lord William rode Woodlark, a grey mare; and Lord Marcus was on a bay gelding called The Weasel. They each wore the Beresford blue, Lord Charles with the ancestral black cap, while the others had white and blue caps as distinguishing emblems.
"No racecourse in Ireland, except Punchestown and Fairyhouse, ever had more people on it than Williamstown had on that, the most memorable day in its annals. Old men and women who had never before seen a race came 50 miles to see 'the Brothers' race.'" (Many persons slept on the ground on the preceding night.) "Not a person, except the too aged and incapacitated, was in a farmhouse within 10 miles of the course, while the city was as deserted as if plague-stricken—all, all, flocked to Williamstown. Excitement rose to boiling pitch as the three brothers filed out of the enclosure and did the preliminary. I fancy now I see them jogging side by side to the starting-post, where poor Tom Waters awaited them, ready with ensign in hand to send them on their journey. The only delay was while he delivered a short but sporting speech to these three lads, when away they went, boot to boot. The pace was a cracker from the start, but none made the running more than another, for all three were girth to girth most of the journey, and at no time did two lengths divide the first and last till just before the finish. Yes, every post they made a winning-post; and ding-dong did they go at each other, though, of course, riding like sportsmen. Fence after fence was charged and cleared by them locked together, and it was not until Nightwalker was beaten, just before the last fence, they separated. A determined struggle between Woodlark and The Weasel then ensued; and, after a desperate finish, old Judge Hunter gave the verdict to the former 'by a short head.'
"Never was seen a better race of its class, nor was any ever ridden more determinedly for victory. The scene of excitement on Williamstown Course before and after it beggars description. Not a mouth was shut or a voice lower than its highest pitch."
Two Irishmen who came from Australia, used to ride with our hounds, the Curraghmore, in County Waterford. They were both very hard riders and both so short-sighted as to be nearly blind. For these reasons they used closely to follow my brother and myself; and we used to do our best to get out of their way, as they were always on the top of us, but in vain. For whenever they saw us sheering off they used to shout out,
"Go on, Lord Charles,"—or Lord William, or Lord Marcus, as the case might be—"go on, I can't see but I can ride."