10 WILD SPORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



The sight of the smoking food brought every man's thoughts 

 and fingers to the subject before him. The huge roll of cookery 

 smelled good, but was by no means comely to look at. As layer 

 after layer of green leaves were pulled off, there presently rolled 

 out what might have been a pig in civilised life, but which we 

 immediately recognised as an opossum. His skin and hair 

 adhered to the wrappings that had been bound around him, and 

 which kept him from the ashes and the burning coals, and nothing 

 now remained but the steamy fat little carcass that would have 

 made a vegetarian forego his creed. Added to this there was a 

 venison steak and some corn-bread, and Poke had a canteen of 

 whisky hid away (the sensual dog !), and we feasted like kings, or 

 rather as kings are supposed to feast, with great good-humour and 

 monstrous appetites, which kings rarely have. Each one pulled at 

 the 'possum, or cut strips from the venison, as he liked, and as 

 fast as one cake was eaten, another would be ready on the stone 

 in front of the fire. Beyond the circle sat the hounds, awaiting, 

 with plaintive attitude, the stray bits that were tossed them from 

 time to time ; and joke, and tales, and future plans, were one by 

 one rehearsed with laugh and hopeful wishes. 



Poke was a jolly fellow. A critical judge of character might 

 have said he was a little lazy, but none of us were critical, and 

 who could blame a man who never lost his temper ? His face was 

 like an orange, so full and gentle, and the soft flaxen curls that 

 clustered tight around his head were like a child's. A shrewd 

 observer, he never saw a leaf changing colour but he inquired the 

 reason, and with his gentle air read human character with facility. 

 He seemed to know everything, medicine, and the arts, and the 

 commonest little handicraft, and the greatest human theories, and 

 he would discourse up to his waist in a miry slough upon the 

 beauties of some aquatic plant as gracefully as in a parlour on the 

 colour of a painting. His acquaintances called him Doctor, for he 

 had studied medicine at Paris; the newspapers call him the 

 Honourable Mr. Pollock, for he had once been appointed bearer 

 of despatches to Eussia ; we called him Poke. Poke was short in 

 stature, and ready to talk. In this respect he was the counter- 

 part of Mike, or Michael Hone, or Mike the Spook, as he was 



