120 FRESH WOODS. 



Turnips and mangolds are few ; but 

 rabbits and hares abound. When I tell 

 you that with thirty cartridges my young 

 host killed twenty-eight rabbits one morning 

 as they ran out of the wheat before the 

 reaping-machine, no better proof of their 

 abundance could be given, and he may 

 reasonably claim to be regarded as a good 

 shot. There is no fishing in this neigh- 

 bourhood, so one day we went a-rabbiting ; 

 Venator with his gun, I with my walking- 

 stick, Joyce with a brace of ferrets and two 

 terriers, Spot and Vick. Vick is not much 

 larger than a rabbit, and can wriggle a long 

 way into a moderate-sized burrow ; she is, 

 however, not so easily extracted ; Joyce had 

 to pull her out by the tail. 



Following the hedgerows, Spot soon 

 marked a rabbit, and Vick gave tongue in 

 the bush ; out came the rabbit, bang went 

 the gun, number one was bagged ; and 

 so the game went on. At length a rabbit 

 popped out and into a hole too quickly for a 

 shot. Now it was Bob, the ferret's, turn a 

 dark, savage little brute, whom none but 

 Joyce could venture to handle, and he only 

 with a stout glove. 



I was becoming excited with the sport. 

 My scruples about killing a rabbit were 



