682 A DAY OF ENJOYMENT. 



rather tired, and felt slightly annoyed, as I sat down to dinner, that 

 my gear was not in the apple-pie order it would have been in, had I 

 started direct from town. 



After supping too heartily upon dry, hard hung-beef, and drinking 

 more than was prudent of my uncle's sour ale (forgive me, 

 uncle, but thy beer is sour !) in conjunction with a very small 

 portion of whiskey punch, I went to bed slightly discomposed. I 

 had a frightful dream. I fancied the morning to have arrived ; that 

 I was already on the road to Hockitt's, when my progress was arrest- 

 ed by the appearance of a little, lean, ugly old woman, who in a croak- 

 ing voice asked for alms. I felt for my purse ; it was gone ! I had 

 not even a halfpenny to give. She muttered a low curse as I rode 

 on; and the next moment my distempered imagination placed 

 me at the cover side. I was alone there ; the pheasants rose and 

 chattered at me with a fiendish laugh. I attempted in vain to shoot 

 them ; I fired fifty, nay an hundred times, without effect, and my 

 gun seemed loaded each time by a supernatural agency. I deter- 

 mined on ascertaining the cause, by drawing the charge. I did so, 

 and found, instead of shot, molten gold, with the purest brimstone 

 I ever beheld in the place of powder. I looked to my flask and belt, 

 and saw Hall's own unrivalled grain, with the same No. 4 patent 

 shot I remembered to have got in readiness the night before. With 

 these articles I re-loaded one barrel. As I was doing this, the 

 screaming and chattering of the birds increased almost to stunning ; 

 thousands crossed me in all directions ; I fired at random. There 

 was a momentary cessation of noise, and then, with one tremendous 

 shriek, the flight betook themselves to the woods, all save one, which, 

 as it fluttered down and fell about an hundred yards from me, I 

 perceived was a beautiful hen bird, as white as driven snow ! I ap- 

 proached nearer to pick it up, when, instead of the head of a phea- 

 sant, I saw the face in miniature of a most lovely female. The bird 

 was smaller than usual, and the head, which was perfectly human, 

 corresponded in size with the body ; thus it was a pheasant in all 

 but the head. A momentary thought of the ignorance of the Zoolo- 

 gical Society flashed across me, and the wonder this rare bird would 

 excite if presented to them. I was standing with my right hand on 

 the muzzle of my gun, when suddenly I heard a wild hollow laugh, 

 and * ' * * * 



"Ha, ha, ha !," screamed the ugly old woman ; " Ha, ha, ha !" echoed 

 the little white pheasant. I awoke, and " Ha, ha, ha ! " roared the 

 boisterous voice of my cousin Ned, immediately under my window. 

 I sprang out of bed and threw up the sash. It was daylight ; and 

 there stood Ned, still laughing, and pointing to his gun, which was 

 smoking from a recent discharge. " I thought," said he, " a little 

 powder would do it. I knocked at your door till I was tired, and so 

 hit upon this plan." " But, Ned," I asked, " have you been shoot- 

 ing all night ? " t( Certainly not." " Then I have," said I ; and 

 promising to be with him in a few minutes, I slammed down the 

 window. As I did this, I felt a numbness in my right hand; I 

 seized it with the other, gazed upon it it was cold, white, and life- 

 less ; but suddenly a pricking sensation revealed the cause. I had 



