Y6 WARWICK WOODLANDS. 



black tea, almost as strong as the cognac which flanked it ; a 

 dish of beautiful fried perch, with cream as thick as porridge, 

 our own loaf sugar, and Teach man's new laid eggs, hot wheaten 

 cakes, and hissing rashers of right tender pork, furnished a 

 breakfast forth that might have vied successfully with those 

 which called forth, in the Hebrides, such raptures from the lexi- 

 cographer. 



Breakfast despatched for which, to say the truth, Harry 

 gave us but little time we mustered our array and started ; 

 Harry and Tom and I making one party, with the spaniels 

 Garry, the Teachmans, and Timothy, with the setters, which 

 would hunt very willingly for him in Archer's absence, forming 

 a second. It was scarce eight o'clock when we went out, each 

 on a separate beat, having arranged our routes so as to meet at 

 one o'clock in the great swamp, said to abound, beyond all 

 other places, in the ruffed grouse or partridge, to the pursuit of 

 which especially we had devoted our last day. 



"Now, Frank," said Harry, "you have done right well 

 throughout the week; and if you can stand this day's tramp, I 

 will say for you that you are a sportsman, aye, every inch of 



Vone. We have got seven miles right hard walking over the 

 roughest hills you ever saw the hardest moors of Yorkshire 

 are nothing to them before we reach the swamp, and that 

 you'll find a settler ! Tom, here, will keep along the bottoms, 

 workings his way as best he can ; while we make good the up- 

 lands ! Are your flasks full ?" 



" Sartain, they are !" cried Tom u and I've got a rousin big- 

 black bottle, too but not a drop of the old cider sperrits do 

 you git this day, boys ; not if your thirsty throats were crack- 

 ing for it !'' 



" Well, well ! we won't bother you you'll need it all, old 

 porpoise, before you get to the far end. Here, take a hard 

 boiled egg or two, Frank, and some salt, and I'll pocket a few 

 biscuits we must depend on ourselves to-day." 



"Ay, ay, Sur," chuckled Timothy, "there's naw Tim Mat- 

 lock to mak looncheon ready for ye 'a the day. See thee, 

 measter Frank. Ay'se gotten 't measter's single barrel ; and 

 gin I dunna ootshoot measter Draa whoy Ay'se deny my 

 coon try !" 



" Most certainly you will deny it then, Tim," answered I, 

 " for Mr. Draw shoots excellently well, and you " 



"And Ay'se shot mony a hare by 't braw moon, doon i' 



