A BATTUE 17 



against by law. The farmer felt convinced that one of them 

 was " a tarnation nasty little French Jarman kind of a Rooshian 

 swindler or sharper, who wouldn't mind committing murder, as 

 them foreigneering fellers always did, and never had no business 

 with a gun ! " 



What quantities of game we then had ! When the Duke 

 of York shot with us, which he did, one day, after Mr. Greville 

 had kept his Royal Highness waiting for an hour and a half, 

 he bagged in the same; space of time more than ever he had 

 killed anywhere else. He had three guns and two loaders, and 

 yet, more than once, I handed him my gun, because the others 

 were not ready. I saw him kill three hares at one shot. My 

 brother Moreton was not a good courtier, but, wishing to 

 please our Royal guest, of course it was my duty to be so. A 

 pheasant was flying over the boughs of an ash tree ; his Royal 

 Highness shot at it, and probably one shot struck the beak. 

 The pheasant spun round and caught hold of a twig, to which 

 he clung. I said, " Sir, your Royal Highness will perhaps give 

 him another barrel, as he is hung in the boughs/'' Bang, bang, 

 bang, bang, went his Royal Highness, with four more shots at 

 him, and missed him every time. "Moreton," I said, "just 

 give that dead bird a barrel from where you stand : he won't 

 fall out of the tree from this direction.'" Up went my brother's 

 gun, who hated killing the game, with such a look of contempt 

 at me over the thumb of his trigger-hand ere he took his sight, 

 that I could hardly maintain my gravity. He killed the 

 pheasant, and as he did so muttered to me, " You might as 

 well have left him for a breeder ! " 



I remember assembling once in the vestibule at Cranford ; 

 Sir George and the late Sir Horace Seymour were of the party, 

 and the late Duke of St. Albans was my guest. We were just 

 ready, when the Duke asked me to wait for a moment till his 

 servant came. The servant arrived, bringing to his Grace a 

 silver salver, on which lay a black silk handkerchief, very neatly 

 and narrowly folded. The Duke took it, turned to a glass, and 

 began to adjust it over the left eye. 



