"Well, sir," continued Daly, who never stopped for anybody, "on I went, until at last, after three hours' ploughing and plodding, I fell in with one of the nicest little snug copses you ever set your eyes on. In I went--whurr went the pheasants--bang went the barrels--down came the birds--and, by the time I had crossed the copse, three cocks and--_heu mihi!_--two hens graced my store." "Pretty sport for the time," said I. "No sooner, however," said Daly, "had I emerged from the thicket, than I found myself upon a sort of parkish-looking lawn, on the rise of which stood a very respectable house, at the door of which I could distinguish a group of persons standing, and from the court-yard of which I saw some sort of servant leading forth a stout short-legged pony, with a thick neck and a stumpy tail--evidently master's favourite--equal to fourteen stone, warranted never to shy, trip, or stumble. Upon its back did I see a portly gentleman bestride himself, and forthwith begin to canter towards me, followed at a somewhat splitting pace by two keepers on foot, each armed either with guns or sticks, which I could not easily distinguish." "I foresee," said I. "So did I," said Daly; "the moment I saw the governor coming full tilt, I knew I had been trespassing, and the moment I stepped upon his infernal lawn, felt that I had put my foot into it." "Well," said I, "what happened?" "Why," continued Daly, "I standing still, and he moving somewhat rapidly, the elder of the two had the best of it, and I was very soon within six inches of his cob's nose, and within about half a yard of his own. 'You are a pretty fellow, sir,' said the irate gentleman, 'to come poaching and killing the birds in my preserves, close to my house--why, what the devil are you thinking of, you rascal? Here, Stephens--Thomson----' "'Sir,' said I, 'I am extremely sorry----' "'Sorry,' interrupted Mr. Bagswash--(for such was the gentleman's name)--'sorry, yes, and well you may be sorry; Botany Bay is too good for a fellow like you, sir. Lay hands on him.' "'One moment, sir,' said I, 'I am a gentleman.' Whereupon Squire Bagswash and his keepers burst into an unseemly fit of laughing. "'A pretty gentleman too,' said Bagswash. "'I thank you, sir,' said I, 'I don't want compliments, I only want a hearing. I am staying on a visit at Sir Marmaduke Wrigglesworth's, and here is my card.' Saying which I produced--from what I happened by the merest but luckiest accident in the world to have about me, my card-case--my visiting ticket. "'Young man,' said my opponent, having read it, 'is this genuine? My name, sir, is Bagswash; I am personally known to Sir Marmaduke. Is what you are saying true?'