4 SEAFOWL SHOOTING SKETCHES. 



my wet garments, and asked G. for a drink, at the same time 

 explaining that I had lust my flask. G. put his hand in his 

 pocket, and, to my astonishment, presented me with my own 

 flask, but empty. He said that while charging- the gun I had 

 taken it out by mistake for the powder flask, and passed it to him 

 to hold for a moment, and that he had forgotten to return it. 

 I had a shrewd suspicion that he had taken it from my pocket, 

 but he denied it, though from his manner I think I was 

 right. In either case it was a good joke, and we all enjoyed it 

 very much. 



Our time being nearly up, we proceeded to the town, where we 

 got something to eat, and then took the train. Our friend G. was 

 very lively and musical. He was also very thirsty, and left the 

 carriage for a drink. That was the last we saw of him for the 

 day, as the train moved on without him, and we arrived at home 

 safely, well pleased with our day's out. The next time I saw 

 G. he had a long tale to tell me about his adventures after leav- 

 ing the train. He went to the refreshment-room and called for a 

 glass of beer, when, putting his hand in his pocket, he dis r 

 covered his purse was missing ! His railway ticket was, how- 

 ever, all right, and two friends, chancing to come in on their 

 return journey, soon came to his assistance, and, getting him in 

 the next train, came along with him home. In return for their 

 kindness, he made them a present of the few birds he had killed. 

 I have been on similar excursions to Fleetwood many times since 

 then, but never enjoyed myself more. 



Early one August, a few years after, I spent a couple of days 

 at Crosby, near Liverpool. It was evening when I and my 

 youngest brother arrived, and, as we were paying a visit to an 

 uncle, I did not care to go out, though I had, of course, brought 

 a gun with me. Whilst conversing with my relative, I heard 

 several shots, and this was more than I could stand, so I took 

 the gun and made tracks to the shore, along with my brother 

 and a juvenile cousin. We were soon on the beach, and I saw 

 that there were plenty of small waders about. A sportsman, who 

 was already on the war-path, had a pocketful of sanderlings, &c. 

 I saw him stalk a flock and get 13 birds for both barrels with his 

 20-bore. After this salute they naturally became more shy. I 

 managed, though, to pick up half-a-dozen with my i2-bore central 

 fife, all sanderlings. 



As it was now dark, we gave up the pursuit, and after a 

 good supper turned in. Next morning my brother and I were 

 up with the lark, and after putting on leggings and overcoats, 

 notwithstanding a heavy downfall of rain, we again turned out. 

 I got several shots at small flocks, and bagged exactly a dozen 

 birds all sanderlings. We went a long way on the shore to 

 the north, and passed a very formidable triangular structure, on 



