48 SEAFOWL SHOOTING SKETCHES. 



curling foam he had mistaken in the fog- for birds. Struggling 

 out, he managed to g-et to the place where the boat was left, when, 

 to his horror, it was not to be found. With nervous haste he fired 

 his gun, and then, fast as he could charge and fire, sent forth 

 signals of distress. Fortunately, the boatmen heard him, and 

 rowing- up in all haste reached him just as the water had mounted 

 to his armpits ! 



I was much amused when the story-teller, detailing- some of his 

 own troubles, and receiving- some Job's comfort from my friend, 

 asked, " Are you a local preacher, sir? " As local preachers are 

 not in the habit of perambulating the shore with fowling- pieces in 

 the depth of winter, we enjoyed the remark intensely. Having 

 sufficiently recruited, we marched off for Kirkham Station. I got 

 a redwing just as we set out. I may say that my friend generously 

 conceded me the best chances. We got to the station after a long 

 and tiring walk through a blinding snowstorm, and were heartily 

 glad to get home. 



Not as blazoning forth my own achievements, but for the guid- 

 ance of amateurs, it will not be unwise to give here a few of my own 

 experiences, bearing on the risks of shore shooting. I was pulling 

 up in the canoe one fine afternoon on a strong spring tide, with a 

 companion, W. Booth, when, fancying the water ran quicker on 

 the south side, I suggested that it would be as well to cross. There 

 were some heavy waves in the distance on that side, caused, pro- 

 bably, by the under-current. My companion demurred to this, 

 and pointing out the waves, said we had better stay where we 

 were. However, as the rough water was some distance ahead, and 

 not doubting it was travelling with the tide, I struck across. Just 

 as we got nicely in the track of the waves they ran back, and we 

 were pitched about, as it seemed to us, in our frail craft, in a 

 frightful manner. " Pull for your life," cried my friend, his face 

 turning yellow. Doubtless my visage was quite as bad, but, with- 

 out reply, I steadily kept on slantingly across. Had we broached 

 to, well I've no doubt it would have been an upset. We kept 

 out of such places in future. 



On another occasion, taking my eldest boy with me, I anchored 

 the canoe to the wall on the south side, opposite Freckleton Pool, 

 and seeing some geese, as it wanted half an hour to tide time, 

 set out after them. I was unsuccessful, but got another bird, 

 which took some time to retrieve. Picking it up, I saw some 

 boats coming up the river, and was at once aware the tide was 

 making. With a beating heart I ran on, and, though encumbered 

 with a heavy 8-bore, made good progress. When I got nearly to 

 the wall I saw that the hollow on my side of it was full of water, 

 the wall buried, the boat tugging at her anchor, and the lad sitting 

 quietly astern. I rushed along till I came to where the water was 

 shallow enough to reach the wall ; then through it, and along the 



