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Herbert, Henry William, 1807-1858

"Warwick Woodlands Things as they Were There Twenty Years Ago"


Well! put the champagne into the spring to cool, and rest yourself there
till we come; we shan't be long behind you."
Away went Tim, stopping from time to time to mark our progress, and over
the fence into the bog meadow we proceeded; a rascally piece of broken
tussockky ground, with black mud knee-deep between the hags, all covered
with long grass. The third step I took, over I went upon my nose, but
luckily avoided shoving my gun-barrels into the filthy mire.
"Steady, Frank, steady! I'm ashamed of you!" said Harry; "so hot and so
impetuous; and your gun too at the full cock; that's the reason, man,
why you missed firing at your first bird, this morning. I never cock
either barrel till I see my bird; and, if a bevy rises, only one at a
time. The birds will lie like stones here; and we cannot walk too slow.
Steady, Shot, have a care, sir!"
Never, in all my life, did I see any thing more perfect than the style
in which the setters drew those bogs. There was no more of racing, no
more of impetuous dash; it seemed as if they knew the birds were close
before them. At a slow trot, their sterns whipping their flanks at every
step, they threaded the high tussockks.


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