100 Sporting Sketches in Pen and Pencil. 



our little pack of beagles for a scratch team of spaniels and terriers, 

 belonging to the farmers themselves, we moved away to some twenty or 

 thirty acres of rough ground, covered with patches of rank heather, rough 

 grass, thorn bushes, and a big patch or two of gorse at the far end, and 

 putting in the dogs we had a rar-e bit of fun. It was not at all easy 

 shooting, as in places the stuff was thick ; but it was patchy, and every 

 now and then the firing became lively. 



"There he goes ! there he goes. Look out, Mr. F. '.he's comin' to you, 

 sir. Rabbit your way, Mr. Tite." Bang, bang ! 



" Yap, yap," a spaniel would go now and then. Then there was a rush, 

 and more banging. 



" Well killed, Mr Tite ! Bray vo Giles, that's another for the sweedes. 

 Well done. Barber; hit 'em up. That's the style ! Get ahead there Mr. E., 

 get ahead, pray ; there's a ride fifty yards up," and in my endeavour to 

 hasten I go a cropper over a tump. Fortunately I keep my gun up 

 out of mischief, and gathering myself up I hasten on to the ride, 

 just in time to see six or seven rabbits bolt across, and to nail the 

 last of them shooting well ahead into the bush he vanished into. It 

 is a blind shot, as lots of these shots always are, but it fetches my 

 lively friend, whom I find kicking. Another and another comes across, 

 and I score a kill and a miss carefully, and so the sport progresses. 

 Towards the lower end a perfect bouquet of pheasants gets up, and 

 out of an old ivy-covered stump flits a brown owl, which one of the 

 farmers named Johnnes shot. There was a good joke about this : Johnnes, 

 being a round-eyed, moon-faced man, was rather like an owl, and he got 

 much chaffed after dinner. 



By the time we had finished the furze the afternoon was wending, 

 so having put all our things into a small cart which was waiting at the 

 outside, we walked off to the Plough, a very snug country inn, and 

 here we found a plain but plentiful dinner of roast and boiled, with 

 plenty of sound ale and grog after provided by the proprietor of the 

 property. The power of stowage these sons of toil evinced was a fine 

 thing to witness, and before satiety cried " Hold, enough ! " the joints 

 displayed fearful ravages. After dinner each member of the company 



