A RIVER YACHTING RESORT 161 



us most, and after a few preliminary anecdotes he leant back 

 in his seat, blew a ring or two of smoke from his pipe, 

 and narrated the following peculiar and unaccountable ex- 

 perience : 



A SHOOTER'S CONFESSION, OR THE GUN WITH THE BENT 



STOCK. 



During the month of November, in the year 189 , I had 

 been to stay the week-end with a friend in the heart of 

 the Broad district, and at breakfast on the Monday morn- 

 ing, prior to my departure, he urged me to prolong my visit 

 a few hours. 



He spoke of wildfowl. He said he could lend me boots, 

 clothes, gun and cartridges, and he guaranteed good sport. 



I was sorely tempted. Surely a few hours could not 

 matter so materially to the mission I had undertaken for that 

 day ; besides, could I not make up the leeway by burning 

 the midnight oil ? Such a chance as he offered even pressed 

 upon me might not present itself again for some time to 

 come. I was weak, and yielded to his persuasive eloquence 

 and his generous hospitality; thus was it arranged for me 

 to catch the afternoon train instead of the earlier one that 

 in duty bound I should have taken. 



After breakfast we repaired to the gun-room, where I was 

 rigged out in long indiarubber boots, a loose-fitting yellow - 

 coloured Norfolk jacket, a tweed hat to match ; and I was 

 offered a selection from several guns of various pattern. 

 " This," said my host, " is an excellent wildfowling gun ; in 

 fact, there never was a better one made, but unluckily the 

 stock has too much beud. and I have postponed its alteration 

 so long that it has not yet been attended to. However, if you 

 think you can shoot with it, you will find it a beauty." " If 

 I thought I could shoot with it ! " what a suggestion ! I 

 who had started shooting when scarce eight winters had 

 passed over my head; I who had handled guns of 

 almost all descriptions, and under the most varying circum- 



