30 RAMBLES AFTER SPORT. 



evening flight; so I just take a turn up by Bowman's 

 mere to see if I can get a snipe or two. I find the pond 

 frozen over, and the flags rustling mournfully in the 

 soughing wind ; it's too cold and still, the birds lie too 

 close, and I am just turning away, when Fan wheels 

 quickly to the right, and commences to crawl cautiously 

 towards the mere again with outstretched nose, and up 

 they spring under her very feet all in a lump. I cut one 

 down handsomely at the rise, and another goes away 

 with a — yes, there he falls in the middle of that stubble. 

 On my way to pick him up a rabbit springs from a 

 tussock and goes hopping merrily over the gorse, till 

 an ounce of No. 6 puts an end to his capers. And so I 

 go on, at times dawdling along a hedge, for the mere 

 pleasure of seeing the dogs beat it, and now and then 

 bowling over a rabbit; and at times just taking a look 

 in at a spinney to see if there is not an old cock 

 pheasant who just wants to learn how much shot he 

 can carry away. By the bye, a pheasant is popularly 

 supposed to present a mark like a flaming Catherine 

 wheel or a haystack ; but to cut down handsomely, not 

 slovenly, an old rocketing cock requires an ^^ artist,'' or, 

 all events, something more than a ^^ duSer." 



As I am passing by Durbin the ditcher's cottage, 

 Mrs. D. greets me with a cheery " Well, be that you, 

 zur ? well now, do'e sit down a minute, Maister Oliver, 

 there's a good soul." The fire looks cheery, and my 

 pockets feel rather heavy somehow with a couple of 

 pheasants and a brace of snipe. *' Well, Mrs. Durbin, I 

 don't mind if I do have a pipe, and tell Durbin I've left 

 two couple of rabbits hanging up on that fence next 

 Bowman's mere; send a couple up to the house and 

 keep the other yourself. How are the children ? 



