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DEDICATION. 



ANY, .many years have passed over 

 our heads, my dear father (mine has 

 become somewhat mildewed, and 

 yours silvery white ; still the thatch 

 is there, and our "knowledge boxes " do not yet 

 quite resemble a large-sized billiard ball), since 

 you first took me out hedge shooting with you. 

 Plow well I remember trudging at your heels on 

 a snowy day ; with what delight I rushed for- 

 ward to pick up the redwing, or fieldfare as you 

 knocked him over, or a hatfull of sparrows in 

 the rick-yard. Later, how I was initiated into the 

 mysteries of the cricket-field ; how satisfied you 

 were when I played " Dodger Pizzey," the great 

 village bat, for half-a-crown and beat him; and how 

 angryyou were, as you andmy cousin, then ayoung 



