26 A MEDLEY OF SPORT 



that evening, and, telling the bailiff to keep the bait 

 indoors, as it was freezing hard, I " spatchcocked " a 

 partridge for supper, and turned in on the camp bedstead, 

 beyond the end of which my legs projected about six 

 inches — most uncomfortable when the water is freezing 

 in one's washing-basin — to dream I was sitting down to a 

 dish of ten-pound sprats. 



The next morning I was awakened by a loud banging 

 of knuckles on my door, and the musical voice of Thomas 

 shouting, " Lend I yer big gun, master. There be a 

 blazin' lot of ode shellies in the creek." 



Years ago a good old uncle of mine used to say to me : 

 " Never lend your gun, razor or wife " (wife was a sort of 

 after-thought, I believe — I have heard my Aunt Jane used 

 to wear the breeches), " and never go anywhere without 

 a bit of string, a knife and a guinea in your pocket, my 

 boy." 



I have always endeavoured to act up to the old gentle- 

 man's advice as regards the gun, razor, knife and string 

 part of the business. I have never yet possessed such a 

 luxury as a wife, and as to guineas — well, to put it as 

 briefly as possible, " they are not in circulation nowa- 

 days." In any case, I did not lend my 4-bore to the 

 bailiff, but, jumping into my clothes, I joined that worthy 

 on the sea-wall, and, looking towards the mouth of the 

 creek, discovered that the " blazin' lot of shellies " con- 

 sisted of a small paddling of some dozen shielduck resting 

 on the tide at about sixty yards' range from the sea-wall. 



" Gie I the gun, master, and I'll show 'ee the way to 



