THE HAUNT OF THE HARE. 147 



fields and over the hills, the hospitable owner of the 

 place suddenly asked his weary and thirsty friend 

 which he would have, champagne, ale, or spirits. 

 They were just then in the midst of a cover, the trees 

 kept off the wind, the afternoon sun was warm, and 

 thirst very natural. They had not been shooting in 

 the cover, but had to pass through to other corn- 

 fields. It seemed a sorry jest to ask which would be 

 preferred in that lonely and deserted spot, miles 

 from home or any house whence refreshment could 

 be obtained — wine, spirits, or ale ? — an absurd ques- 

 tion, and irritating under the circumstances. As it was 

 repeated persistently, however, the reply was at length 

 given, in no very good humour, and wine chosen. 

 Forthwith putting down his gun, the interrogator 

 pushed in among the underwood, and from a cavity 

 concealed beneath some bushes drew forth a bottle of 

 champagne. He had several of these stores hidden 

 in various parts of the domain, ready whichever way 

 the chance of sport should direct their footsteps. 



Now the dry wild parsnip, or '* gicks," five feet 

 high, stands dead and dry, its jointed tube of dark 

 stem surmounted with circular frills or umbels ; the 

 teazle heads are brown, the great burdocks leafless, 

 and their burs, still adhering, are withered; the 

 ground, almost free of obstruction, is comparatively 

 easy to search over, but the old sportsman is too 

 cunning to bury his wine twice in the same place, 

 and it is no use to look about. No birds in last 

 year's nests — the winds have torn and upset the 

 mossy structures in the bushes ; no champagne in 

 last year's cover. The driest place is under the firs, 



