Fmday, Febt^aat^y 16th, 1894. 65 



*'Jan Poat. But be I Jan Poat, or bant I Jan 

 Poat ? If I be Jan Poat, I've a lost my 'osses. . . . 

 And if I bant Jan Poat, . . . I've a vound a butt." 



The question was solved on his reaching Jan Poat's 

 home, where the rating which he got from J. P.'s 

 wife thoroughly convinced him of his identity. His 

 dog's tail, too, wagged as well as the housewife's 

 tongue. The horses also, grazing in '* Bo' town," 

 recognized his voice, and came to his call. And 

 soon man, horses, and cart were put together again, 

 and the veritable Jan Poat and equipage entered his 

 own farmyard, but not in triumph ; for being unable 

 to account for last night's proceedings, he looked 

 rather ashamed of himself. 



Will any such queer tale arise from to-morrow's 

 doings, I wonder ? And what will my. " Chapman's 

 Well " day bring me with regard to sport ? Two 

 kills in the open ? A repetition of to-day's splendid 

 run will suffice me. 



