my Father's Adventures. 



ERE is my father's story of his day's 

 shooting. 



Arrived at the httle inn, the shotsmen 

 after tapping each pocket in order to feel if it con- 

 tained its own proper part of the ammunition, and 

 after calling over the muster roll of their forces. 

 Pow^der? Shot? Caps? Wadding? Gun? started 

 for the nearest barley arish where a fine covey of 

 nineteen " meated." They had not gone far when 

 they came upon a man leaning over a gate, and all 

 but concealed in its deep recess. He turned as they 

 passed, and took off his hat to my father. This ally 

 had been too shy and modest to **put 'isself fore at 

 the arrival of the gentlevolks," but being a great 

 friend of the old keeper's, he was now admitted 

 among the privileged ones who were to wait upon 

 the guns. Not so, however, the next man who came 

 in view, standing with arms crossed and leaning on 

 his " brisher." A hospitable saying of the country, 

 "Whenever you come within half-a-mile of my 

 house, I hope you'll stop there," was extended to 

 this man, who had come considerably within half-a- 

 mile of the nineteen covey's dwelling-place, and 



