On his arrival, however, he said that he could not just think it would
be my bird, as he had not noticed any fall in that direction. But after
I had presented him with a piece of silver, he did agree that if I chose
to claim the bird as mine, it was not his place to contradict me, and so
in great glee I exhibited my prize to the others, appealing to the
keeper (who basely remained _sotto voce_) for confirmation.
"A devilish clean shot, Prince!" Sir CUMMERBUND graciously remarked;
"why, the bird is stiff and cold already!"
Whereupon I was cordially congratulated, and awarded the tail feathers
to decorate my "tommy-shanty," and during the next driving, having now
acquired the knack, I rendered several more denizens of the air the
_hors de combats_, though--either on account of their great ingenuity in
running out of the radius, or creeping into holes, etc., or else the
stupidity of the retrieving dogs--their corpses remained irrecoverable.
On taking my leave, I expressed unbounded satisfaction with such sport
as I had had, and my fixed intention to assist on some similar
shooting-expedition, and Mr BAGSHOT kindly promised to let me know if he
should again have vacancy for an additional gun.
I regret to say that young HOWARD, who, having only laid low a couple of
black cocks and a blue hare, was immoderately jealous of my superior
skilfulness, did seek to depreciate it by insinuating that my grouse was
one which, having been seriously wounded by other hands some days
previously, had come up to the hills to shuffle off its mortal coil in
seclusion, arguing thus from its total absence of heat and
suppleness.
This is the merest quibble, and to travel out of the record, since, of
course, if a bird is at all of a venerable age, it becomes stiff and
deficient in vital warmth long before it is popped off! Moreover, if the
grouse were not legitimately my property, why, forsooth, should I be
permitted to carry it home?
[Illustration: "I PRESENTED MY TROPHY AND TREASURE-TROVE TO THE
FAIRYLIKE MISS WEE-WEE."]
I presented my trophy and treasure-trove to the fairylike Miss WEE-WEE,
who was so overwhelmed by the compliment that she entreated for it to be
cooked and eaten _instanter_.
As soon as I have recovered a missing link of my fishing-rod (which it
seems has been overlooked by Mister Pawnbroker), and when I have
procured some suitable bait, &c., it is my intention to catch a fine
salmon out of the burn for my enchanting divinity, and, as I place the
fish in her lily-like hands, to strike iron while it is hot and make her
the formal proposal of matrimony.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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