AN OLD SPORTSMAN. 



day on the neighbouring mountains, his in- 

 structions to me were to go banging through 

 the bogs so as to flush the birds, which would 

 then pitch towards his beat. Nothing bothered 

 me more, at first, than the loud bleat of the 

 snipe as he sprang from the heather at my very 

 feet. I either did not fire at all, tugging at 

 half cock, or lodged the charge in the turf 

 about twelve yards from where I stood. But 

 my perseverance was finally rewarded. One 

 day I dropped, to my utmost astonishment, a 

 beautiful brown snipe ; I ran like lightning to 

 pick him up, to the demoralization of an old 

 black retriever with whom I was entrusted. 

 Sill was mine, and from that time forward I 

 might, perhaps, hit three birds out of twenty. 

 I did not, for a considerable period, break 

 myself, however, of running at shot; as sure 

 as I saw the snipe fall I made a dash for him. 

 The consequence was ruinous to the character 

 of Sill the pointer, and Bob the retriever. At 

 first, those veterans were shy of imitating my 

 misconduct ; but when they witnessed it four 

 or five times they joined in the sport, and it 

 was a race between us, Bob, Sill, and I, as to 



