A DAY OF ENJOYMENT. 



LATE in the month of September, 183 , I was kindly and press- 



ingly invited by my old and worthy friend A , to make one of a 



party that had for many successive years, on the first day of each 

 October, honoured his woods by killing a reasonable quantity of his 

 pheasants. I had never been where they were plentiful, and fancying 

 myself a pretty good shot, I chuckled not a little at the execution my 

 double barrel (which was, of course, as whose is not ? the best 

 gun in England) was likely to make among my friend's long- tails. 

 I planned the whole day, anticipated every shot, had a panoramic 

 view of my^tart in the morning, my success in and out of cover, of 

 bagging at least six brace, of lunching upon dry cheese, brown 

 bread, and sour beer, and enjoying these as luxuries at the wood- 

 looker's cottage (my friend did not aspire to a keeper) ; of sallying 

 forth a second time, and causing the dinner to wait a good half hour 

 for my august presence. When it was time to depart, I saw three 

 brace and a half of the sacrificed birds safely deposited in the gig, 

 all of which I had pre-engaged for particular friends in town. I felt 

 the hearty hand of my jovial host squeezing mine, and heard the 

 noisy " Good night, Jack ! good night ! we shall see you again at 

 Hockitt's Wood before the season's out." In short, after spending a 

 glorious day, I got safely home. All these things, or something very 

 like them, I read in my mind's eye. 



The 29th of September arrived, and with it a note from an old 

 uncle on the borders of Essex, informing me that my cousin Ned 

 was to be one of the party at Hockitt's on the 1st; and as I was 

 going, and my gig might as well carry two as one, he advised that I 

 should immediately drive down to his own farm, which was only 

 eight miles from the scene of my hopes, where I might take a few 

 hours' practice among his own coveys the next day, and lessen the 

 distance I had to travel on the following morning. At any other 

 time, an invitation from my uncle would have been hailed with de- 

 light, and the idea of his coveys rising thickly and topping the bright 

 yellow stubble, would have begotten a corresponding nutter in my 

 own breast ; but I know not how it was, I could not account for the 

 disappointment ; I felt it was a disappointment, at least an interrup- 

 tion, and for a moment I was vexed. I had made up my mind to 

 one grand day, and did not like the intervention of this new day's 

 amusement; besides which, my gun had just undergone a very scien- 

 tific cleansing by the maker ; Cato and Don were fresh, and would 

 evidently suffer from this previous day's use: however, the same 

 evening found me comfortably seated in the little back parlour at 

 Crombie Farm. After a good night's rest, I journeyed forth with 

 Ned in the morning. It is needless to recount the various scenes of 

 the day; it is sufficient that we returned home satisfied with our 

 sport, and immediately set to work to prepare for the coming morn. 

 I managed to leave my gun in rather a slovenly condition, for I was 



M. M. No. 90. 4 K 



