DUCK-SHOOTING. 251 



handsome clothes, my hands and face, all blacker 

 than my ebony friend, and stiff and heavy with the 

 noisome conglomeration. After resting for a few 

 minutes, I gathered up my rod and started for the 

 wagon, when what should I see in the other end of 

 the lot but a bull. A single glance showed me 

 what I had to expect ; no bull could stand such an 

 object as I was. I ran and he ran. I made for the 

 wagon and he after me. Such a picture as I must 

 have presented, flying from an infuriate bull, may 

 seem funny to you, gentlemen, but was not to me. 

 We both reached the wagon and both went into it 

 together — I into the seat, he into the body ; the re- 

 sult being that I went flying out again, on the other 

 side, over the fence. The horse, which at that mo- 

 ment must have been dreaming, or sleeping the sleep 

 he did not have the night before, aroused by the crash, 

 cast one look behind and burst his bonds and fled. 



" It was a long walk home ; people looked 

 strangely at me on the way, and some unfeeling 

 ones laughed. My wagon was broken, my horse 

 was ruined, my clothes were spoiled ; and the only 

 consolation I had, was that my brother anglers at 

 the hotel felt and expressed such intense sympathy 

 for my sufferings." 



The resigned tones and manner of the speaker 

 were inimitable, and his story was received with 

 great satisfaction and closed the evening's amuse- 

 ments. All parties having resolved upon an early 

 start, retired early, and enjoyed a rest such as the 

 sportsman only knows. 



