142 BATTUKING. 



the Epping hounds (at least so he said, for I never 

 joined the Hunt). He came to see me, on my pro- 

 mising to mount him with the (then) King's hounds 

 and the Old Berkeley ; but wishing to show himself a 

 Sportsman in every way, he brought down a bran new 

 Manton and (as I afterwards found out) a bran new 

 dog. He stated that he brought but one, concluding 

 I was a shot. Now I never pointed a gun at a head 

 of game in my life. I did, as a boy, knock swallows 

 and pigeons about, and made sad devastation along 

 the hedgerows ; and as I always insisted on the con- 

 tents of my bag or pockets being made into pies, 

 I may fairly assert, that I have devoured more larks, 

 blackbirds, thrushes, sparrows, chaffinches, green- 

 finches, and every other finch, than perhaps any man 

 in England, for no sort came amiss to me. So much 

 for my shooting exploits. On expressing my regret 

 at not having pointers or setters to lend, I offered as 

 a substitute the choice of half-a-dozen capital bull- 

 terriers, or a French dog, which would ring the bell, 

 fetch my hat, stand on his head, and perform various 

 other exhibitions, and might (for all I knew) find game. 

 However, my offer was declined, adding, with a self- 

 satisfied look, that "his favourite was quite sufficient 

 single-handed : he had always found him so whenever 

 he had tried him." (This was the truth.) Off we 

 went, with a stable-boy carrying a new game-pannier. 

 Carlo appeared perfectly steady, which my friend told 

 me he was warranted to be when he first bought him, 

 but he did not say that was within three days, and of 

 some fellow in the City Road. Well, he trotted along 

 after us as if he was led in a string. On getting to 

 some fields where I knew birds always laid, his master 

 gave the important wave of his arm, and " hie on ! " 



