CHAPTER IV. 



RABBIT-SHOOTING. 



Is there a votary of the gun to whom these two words 

 do not bring back a flood of recollections ? True, 

 they are mostly boyish ones, but are they any the less 

 vivid for all that ? Who does not recollect his first 

 rabbit ? I do certainly, as if it were yesterday. 



I was nine years old, and just going into trousers. 

 On that ever to be remembered Christmas Day, my 

 father put into my hands my first gun. I can lay my 

 hand on it now. It was, of course, a muzzle-loader, 

 and single-barrelled. It was small and light, as suited 

 my age, and it was, of all odd bores, an i8-bore. 

 But it was, and is, a very good killer and a capital boy's 

 gun. Unfortunately, we were in London at the time, 

 and I could not get a chance of using it for a fortnight. 

 The end of this period found me down at home, and 

 waging an active war on all the blackbirds and 

 thrushes within a mile of the house. One day one of 

 the men on the place came up to me. 



" There do be mostly a rabbut in the garden at the 

 Elms, sir," said he. 



D 



