126 WARWICK WOODLANDS. 



night previously a poor Irish woman, who lived in his 

 village, started to pay a visit to her mother by the self 

 same road we shall pass to-night; and was found the next 

 morning with her person brutally abused, kneeling against 

 a fence stone dead, strangled with her own cambric hand- 

 kerchief. He says, too, that not a week passes but some 

 of them are foynd dead in the meadows, or in the ditches, 

 killed in some lawless fray; and no one ever dreams of 

 taking any notice, or making any inquiry about the 

 matter !" 



"It is possible? then keep the guns at hand by all 

 means!" 



"Yes! but this time we will violate my rule about the 

 copper caps — there is no rule, you are aware, but what 

 has some exception — and the exception to this of mine is, 

 always take off your copper caps before getting into a 

 wagon; the jar will occasionally explode them, an upset 



will undoubtedly. So uncap, Messrs. Forester and A , 



and put the bright little exploders into your pockets, 

 where they will be both safe and handy ! And now, birds 

 are in, drinks are in, dogs and guns are in, and now let 

 us be off!" 



No more words were wasted; the landlord's bill was 

 paid, Frank Forester and Timothy got up behind, the 

 Commodore took the front seat, Harry sprang, reins in 

 hand, to the box, and off they bowled, with lamps and 

 cigars burning merrily, for it was now quite dark, along 

 the well-known mountain road, which Archer boasted he 

 could drive as safely in the most gloomy night of winter 

 as in a summer moon. And so it proved this time, for 

 though he piloted his horses with a cool head and delicate 

 finger through every sort of difficulty that a road can offer, 

 up long and toilsome hills without a rail between the 

 narrow track and the deep precipice, down sharp and 

 stony pitches, over loose clattering bridges, along wet 

 marshy levels, he never seemed in doubt or trouble for a 

 moment, but talked and laughed away, as if he were a 

 mere spectator. 



After they had gone a few miles on their way — "you 

 broke off short, Archer," said the Commodore, "in the 

 middle of your dissertation on the natural history and 

 habits of the woodcock, turning a propos des hottes to the 

 cruelty of killing them in midsummer. In all which, by 



