UNFORTUNATE SHOT. 148 



Unaccustomed to the painful effects which friction and salt 

 water occasion hands unused to hemp, I transferred my line 

 to an idle boy, who proved a much more fortunate coal-fisher 

 than I, notwithstanding the instructions of my friend Pattigo. 



We were bearing down to a glorious play of sea-birds, and 

 I got a gun uncased to practise at the gulls. It was a curious 

 and bustling scene. Above, thousands of these birds were 

 congregated in a small circle, screaming, and rising, and 

 dipping over a dense mass of fry, which appeared at times 

 breaking the surface of the water, while grebes and puffins of 

 many varieties were persecuting those unhappy sprats under- 

 neath. As we bore down, I fired at a few straggling puffins. 

 Some were missed, some disabled, but not a clean-killed bird ! 

 The great body of sea-fowl appeared so much engrossed with 

 their predatory pursuits, as to neither attend to the reports of 

 the gun, or notice the approach of the hooker until the boat's 

 bolt-sprit seemed almost parting this countless host of floating 

 and flying plunderers. 



Bent on destruction, I waited until we cleared the ball, and 

 reached that happy distance when the charge should open 

 properly. Pattigo estimated the shot would, moderately, 

 produce a stone of feathers. I fired ; a solitary gull dropped 

 in the water, and half-a-dozen wounded birds separated from 

 the crowd, and went screaming off to sea. The failure was a 

 melancholy one. I sank immeasurably in the estimation of 

 the crew as an artiste. Pattigo's bag of feathers was but an 

 unrealized dream while my kinsman muttered something 

 about the best single he ever possessed and I, to cover my 

 disgrace, occupied myself with reloading. 



"I can't congratulate you on your gunnery," said my 

 cousin, " although I must admit, that it required some inge- 

 nuity to avoid accidents among the crowd. But give me the 

 gun, and here comes a victim," he continued, as a huge grey 

 gull, reckless of danger, wheeled as they will do round and 

 round a wounded companion. 



"I would not be in his coat for half the hooker," said 

 Pattigo, in a stage whisper. 



"The Lord look to him!" exclaimed another boatman, "if 

 it be not a sin to pray for a bird." 



" He shall not carry his life to the water/' rejoined the 

 Master, as he laid the barrel to his eye. 



But, notwithstanding prayer and prophecy, the gull merely 



