HIS TALE CONTINUED. 63 



keeping on a bit of seeds, and had an old 

 gun and a little powder, and I thought I 

 might as well try and kill some as well as 

 frighten 'em ; so I put some little gravel- 

 stones a-top of the powder, when, as luck 'd 

 have it, there came through the steward's 

 hedge one of his fowls. I up with my gun, 

 without a thought, and let fly. I was close 

 to him, and knocked him over ; but the next 

 minute I was in the clutches of the gardener, 

 and hauled off to the constable; and from 

 the constable to the Bridewell for fourteen 

 days : but, after all, 'twas more to spite my 

 father than any thing else." 



"No fault of yours, no doubt," said the 

 squire. " You must not interrupt me," says 

 the rogue, " or I can't tell my story." Says 

 I, "Why don't you get up, and treat the 

 squire as you ought to do ?" for I felt quite 

 mad with the fellow's impudence. "Time 

 enough for me to do that," says he, " when 

 I'm brought afore him : you that pick his 

 bones may do it know." I thought at this 

 I should have fell 'upon him ; but says the 

 squire, " Don't interrupt him, Gregory. Let 

 me hear what spite had to do with your 

 going to prison." 



