The rector was an admirable shot, and on his way from his house to church used to amuse himself with shooting pigeons, his clerk--also an excellent shot--walking behind with a fowling-piece in his hand, and taking part in the sport. Having reached the sacred edifice, his reverence and attendant opened the church door and waited in the porch ten minutes for the advent of worshippers. If none had presented themselves at the end of ten minutes, the pastor beat a retreat. If only a few black Christians straggled up, the rector bought them off with a few coins and then went home. One cunning old negro, who saw that the parson's heart was more with the wild-fowl of the neighboring bay than bent on the discharge of his priestly functions, after a while presented himself every Sunday, when the following interview and arrangement were regularly repeated:-- "What do you come here for, blackee?" the parson would exclaim. "Why, massa, to hear your good sermon and all de prayer ob de church." "Would not a _bit_ or two do you more good?" "Yes, massa doctor--me lub prayer much, but me lub money too." The "bit or two" would then be paid, and the devotee would retire speedily from the scene. For an entire twelve-month was this _black_-mail exacted. On his return to England, Wolcot, after a few unsuccessful attempts to establish himself in practice, relinquished the profession of physic as well as that of divinity, and, settling himself in London, made both fame and a good income by his writings. As a political satirist he was in his day almost without a rival, and the popularity of his numerous works would have placed a prudent man in lasting affluence. Improvidence, however, necessitated him to sell the copyright of his works to Messrs. Robinson, Golding, and Walker for an annuity of £250, payable half-yearly, during the remainder of his life. Loose agreements have always been the fashion between authors and publishers, and in the present case it was not clearly stated what "copyright of his works" meant. The publishers interpreted it as the copyright of both what the author had written at the time of making the agreement, and also of what he should subsequently write. Wolcot, however, declared that he had in the transaction only had regard to his prior productions. After some litigation and more squabbling, the publishers consented to take Wolcot's view of the case; but he never forgave them the discomfort they had caused him. His rancour against "the trade" increased with time, and inspired some of his most violent and unjust verses:-- "Fired with the love of rhyme, and, let me say, Or virtue, too, I sound the moral lay; Much like St. Paul (who solemnly protests He battled hard at Ephesus with beasts), I've fought with lions, monkeys, bulls, and bears, And got half Noah's ark about my ears; Nay, more (which all the courts of justice know), Fought with the brutes of Paternoster Row."