CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



heard over the whole parish. Mothers press their yet 

 unchastised infants to their breasts; and the school- 

 master, fastening a knowing eye on dunce and ne'er- 

 doweel, holds up, in silent warning, the terror of the 

 taws. Frequent flogging will cowe the spirit of the 

 best man and dog in Britain. Ponto travels now in 

 fear and trembling but a few yards from his tyrant's 

 feet, till, rousing himself to the sudden scent of some- 

 thing smelling strongly, he draws slowly and beauti- 

 fully, and 



''There Jix'dy a perfect semicircle stands ^ 



Up runs the Tyro ready -cocked, and, in his eagerness, 

 stumbling among the stubble, when, hark and lo! the 

 gabble of grey goslings, and the bill-protruded hiss of 

 goose and gander! Bang goes the right-hand barrel at 

 Ponto, who now thinks it high time to be off to the 

 tune of "ower the hills and far awaV' while the young 

 gentleman, half-ashamed and half-incensed, half-glad 

 and half-sorry, discharges the left-hand barrel, with a 

 highly improper curse, at the father of the feathered 

 family before him, who receives the shot like a ball in 

 his breast, throws a somerset quite surprising for a 

 bird of his usual habits, and, after biting the dust 

 with his bill, and thumping it with his bottom, 

 breathes an eternal farewell to this sublunary scene 

 — and leaves himself to be paid for at the rate of 

 [16] 



