36 THE NEW FOREST 



on October 1st, and in my first year he invited 

 me to come to luncheon with him and shoot the 

 pheasants afterwards. We sallied forth only the 

 two of us Sir Henry with his bandages and 

 bare arms, and two large and fat retriever dogs, 

 one brown, the other black. 



The pheasants were mostly in turnips, and the 

 sport not of the highest class, but I have seldom 

 laughed so much in an afternoon's shooting. At 

 every shot both dogs invariably ran in, and as 

 invariably Sir Henry gave them the contents of 

 his remaining barrel at a range far shorter than 

 I have ever seen dogs shot for correctional pur- 

 poses before. When they ran in to my shot, he 

 gave them both barrels, impartially, right and 

 left. The dogs, which certainly had the most 

 curly and woolly coats imaginable, never seemed 

 to mind. Neither of them ever howled or ceased 

 to run in. I think he hit them quite often, but 

 the whole proceeding was irresistibly comical, 

 and I could not help thinking that if only 

 they could be sold by the pound, what with 

 the fat and the thick coats and the enormous 

 amount of lead that they must have accumulated 

 in their hindquarters, these dogs would have a 

 value surpassing that of the most valuable re- 

 trievers that ever ran at trials. 



Sir Henry Paulet died in 1886, which severed 



