A PARTIE OF SPORTSMEN OUT A SHUTYNGE.
Monday, October 1, 1849.
Up mighty betimes, and to Brushwood for a Day's Shooting, by Invitation from Mr. Tibbitts, whose Father, the rich Furrier, did die the other Day, and leave him a Fortune, and now he hath rented Brushwood Manor to shoot over for the Season. But Lack, what a set of young Rogues I found there of Tibbitts his Acquaintance, a-smoking of Cigars and short Pipes, and a-drinking of Ale and bottled Stout at 10 o'clock of the Morning! Mighty ashamed of, though diverted with, my Company, to hear their loose and idle Conversation, and how none of them could pronounce the letter H, and to think what an unlettered vulgar Fellow Tibbitts is, and that I should demean myself to associate with such a Companion only because of his Riches, and Wine, and Dinners. One of the Party, Wiggyns, did tell me we should have a prime Lark, which, this being the first Day of Pheasant-Shooting, I did think droll; but divers Larks, indeed, were shot before the Day was over. So we into the Fields, and a Keeper following us with the Dogs, and, whenever I did look over my Shoulder, did catch him grinning and making Faces behind our Backs. But strange, to see how much better the Rogues did shoot than I expected, though firing at Tom-Tits, or anything almost, and do understand they got this Skill at the Red House, Battersea, through popping at Pigeons and Sparrows let loose from a Trap; which do seem but a cruel and a barbarous kind of Sport. But little Birds were not all they shot, for one Higges aiming at a Hare did miss, and instead of the Hare hit one of the Dogges, and sent him yelping and limping Home. But good Lack, to see how careless the Fellows were with their Fire-Arms, carrying their Guns, full-cocked, pointing right in one another's Faces, and one, dragging his Piece through a Hedge after him, it went off, but finding it had only carried off the Skirt of his Shooting-Coat, we had a good Laugh of it. Another, with a double-barrelled Gun, having shot off one Barrel at a Blackbird, I did see reloading; the other Barrel being still loaded and at full Cock. He, forcing down the Ramrod with all his Might, I did catch him by the Elbow, and point to the Cock of the Gun, and methinks I did never see a Man on a Sudden tremble so terribly, or grow so pale. Getting beyond Brushwood, into a Field hard by, Mr. Wiggyns did let fly at some Ducks, for one of those Larks he had been talking of, which did bring down upon us the Farmer, with his Bull-Dog, and cause us to make off with all the Speed we could. I in mighty Dread of being seized as an Accomplice in shooting the Duck, fearing the Farmer, who is horridly enraged with the Game-Preserving at Brushwood, for that the Game do eat up his Crops; and, truly, the Game Laws are a great Nuisance. Home from our Shooting, with our Bag, carried by Tibbitts his Tiger-Boy, very full, with a Brace or two of Pheasants and Partridges, but many more Brace of Chaffinches, and Yellow-Hammers, and Robin Redbreasts, and so to Dinner, where all very merry, and so to Bed.
