THE VICTOR VANQUISHED. 97 



heroes, I allowed matters to take their chance, 

 fully prepared to find that most of my eggs 

 would prove unproductive and almost inclined to 

 break up the pheasantry altogether, but my half- 

 formed intention was suddenly arrested by a new 

 turn in the aspect of affairs. On entering the 

 enclosure one morning, I was surprised to see a 

 fine old cock-pheasant, with a tail of portentous 

 length, take wing from among the midst of the 

 hens and, with a protracted crow of triumph, fly 

 over the fence into the evergreens beyond. But 

 where was Horatius ? Alas ! his days were num- 

 bered. He had found his match at last. After 

 a long search, I discovered him squatted in a 

 corner, his once brilliant plumage torn and co- 

 vered with blood. One eye was closed; the 

 other was completely extinguished. His neck 

 was entirely plucked, and as bare as a vulture's. 

 His crimson cheeks were sadly lacerated. His 

 head was absolutely scalped, and where a pair of 

 purple egrets had lately been so proudly erected, 

 a bare skull was now alone visible. Poor fellow ! 

 he died the same evening. The rest may be 

 briefly told. Day after day did the conqueror 

 visit his newly acquired territory, and many a 

 youthful rival, too prudent to come into close 

 quarters with the long-spurred tyrant, would pay 

 a stolen visit to his seraglio during his absence 



F 



