THE PARSON'S LOT 323 



keeper call out " pie ■" ; however, he took a shot at the bird as it 

 came over his head and killed it. Out came the keeper, black in 

 the face with indignation. "Good God, sir," exclaimed the 

 man, "what are you about.'' Didn't you hear me call out 

 ' pie,' and why the devil, sir, did you dare to shoot ? My lord 

 never allows a pied pheasant to be shot at." " Pie," said Mr. 

 William Knyvet, taking up the bird, whose under-plumage was 

 of the usual colour, the white feathers being on his back and 

 tail; "pie — why, you might just as well have called out 

 ' pudding ' for all the information it conveyed to me ; I did not 

 know you had a pied pheasant in the country." 



I have heard it said of a gentleman who keeps a splendid 

 pack of foxhounds, that one day as he rode home with a poorly- 

 paid clergyman whom he met by the way (for indeed, kind 

 reader, there are but too many of those), they fell into conversa- 

 tion as to the worth of the huntsman's place. 



" What, sir, do you give your huntsman ? " the clergyman 

 asked ; " I dare say he has as much as I have ? " 



" What should you think .?" rejoined the master of hounds. 



" 'Why, perhaps," the clergyman i-eplied, after some con- 

 sideration, " his place may be worth a hunch'ed a year." 



" More than that," said the master of the foxhounds, " one 

 way or another he gets about thi-ee hundred a year." 



" Goodness me, sir ! " said the divine, " why, that is double 

 my pay ! " 



" Very likely," rejoined his companion, " but then you must 

 know we require a clever man for a huntsman, and any d — d 

 fool does for a parson." 



It is odd, when you think of the fate of younger brothers. 

 A youth bred up from a child in the lap of luxury ; sent to the 

 best schools, or kept under a private tutor at home, and then 

 placed at Oxford or Cambridge, where, from his birth and 

 position in life, he makes acquaintance with all the " tufts " and 

 silver-spooned men of his year, to go out at last into the world 

 on a profession. On what ? On a living perhaps of a couple of 

 hundreds a year ; and his fond but self-deceiving parents assert 



