At last while Gale, just in advance, Was clambering o’er some logs, He got a charge of shot by chance, From the excited Boggs. Then was there rustling there a spell, And as you may suppose, From out the shaking chaparral Linked oaths profusely rose. Boggs dropped his gun and forward run, With apprehension bleached, And this poor lame excuse begun When he the butcher reached: “A splendid shot! I quite forgot Precisely where you stood; The birds flew fast, were nearly passed Behind a screen of wood; “I must let go, or lose a show Of bagging three or four, And in my mind you were behind, Until I heard you roar.” [Illustration: BOGGS RETRIEVING HIS GAME.] He cursed the logs and kicked the dogs, And wished the quail on toast, But that did not take out the shot, Which then was needed most. The doctors who have dressed his wounds Have to his friends declared, That though he is a sorry sight, His sight is not impaired. There is a moral this within, And shaped the times to suit, But lest it should appear too thin, Here’s this advice to boot:— Ne’er venture on a hunting cruise With any green galoot, Who shuts both eyes whene’er he tries The flitting game to shoot. THE ART GALLERY. Hearing that a large collection of paintings were on exhibition at the Art Gallery, I visited the rooms this afternoon, and was agreeably surprised to discover that quite a number were by eminent artists. It is pleasant to gaze upon an old picture that has come down through the dust of ages, so I made it a point to employ the hour at my disposal in sketching several subjects most admired by the visitors. I did not learn the author of the large picture from which the first of my sketches was taken, but was assured that it came from the hand of an old master. [Illustration: FROM A PAINTING BY AN OLD MASTER.] I would have thought it a representation of “Cleopatra before Cæsar,” if the female had been running toward the man instead of away from him. A gentleman present who examined the painting closely, gave it as his opinion, that the couple represented “Tarquin and Lucrece.” He informed me he had visited many art galleries of the Old World, and found several paintings which had been copied from this masterpiece by artists, who paid homage to such creative genius. As he claimed to be something of a connoisseur, his supposition was probably a correct one, though he was not able to thoroughly account for the singular looking bonnet that shadowed the head of the prancing “Lucrece.” It is certainly anything but a Roman head-dress, and why it should be dangling from her royal top, is something for critics to comment on, and antiquarians to inquire into.