2o8 THE BATTUE 



aversion, as being of an un-English and unsportsmanlike 

 character. 



A friend of mine, who was a capital shot, and could give 

 pepper in more ways than one, was invited to a grand 

 battue by a noble lord, who had very large preserves. 

 Being of a very witty and convivial turn, he was asked 

 to dine and sleep at the house the previous evening, and 

 rendered himself, as usual, a most agreeable guest, both 

 over the mahogany and in the drawing-room. After 

 breakfast the ensuing morning, the preparations for 

 slaughter were commenced on such a grand scale, double- 

 barrels being whisked and handed about by keepers with 

 as much nonchalance as if they were only walking-sticks, 

 that my friend began to entertain serious thoughts about 

 his wife and children left at home, the odds being sadly 

 against his ever seeing them again. He therefore sought 

 the protecting form of a huge under-keeper, behind 

 whom (on pretence of talking about the game, &c.) he 

 ensconced himself, and thus reached the scene of action 

 in safety. Here he allowed all to take up the 

 positions they fancied in the rides and drives, and thinking 

 to be out of reach of their fire, posted himself in some 

 three-year old hazel coppice wood, nearly as high as his 

 head, as the most secure place from molestation. 



The action soon commenced with the whirring of 

 pheasants, screaming of hares, and squeaking of rabbits, 

 as they fell beneath the fire of their murderous assailants, 

 my friend contenting himself with occasional shots as 

 the birds passed over his head, when all at once he felt 

 something like red-hot pins running into his face from the 

 discharge of a gun in rather dangerous proximity to him, 

 and of which, until then, he had been in happy ignorance. 

 This unlooked-for assault instantly roused my friend's 



