In Nuce.—Mr. Gladstone, adversely criticising Dr. Ingram's History of the Irish Union, compares that gentleman to a buoy tossed about on the waves. Indeed, the ex-Premier's article may be thus compendiously summed up à la Paul Bedford:—"I don't believe you, my Buoy!"
FOREST TALK.
Compiled for the Use of the Epping Deer-stalkers.
This wounded buck that is approaching us, painfully dragging its shattered hind-leg after it, must be the same creature we peppered, after such good sport, last Tuesday week.
Dear me, I did not know that our hunting-pack consisted of a mastiff, two poodles, three bull-dogs, a beagle, and a bloodhound.
Are these clumsy sportsmen, who blaze away without knowing what they are firing at, the "gentlemen" invited by the Verderer to assist him at the chase? Ha! I think, from the way he shakes his head as he makes off, that I must have hit that old buck nearly in the eye.
No, I am mistaken. I can clearly see now from the manner in which he is limping that I must have wounded the young deer badly in the ankle.
I wonder whether I shall find him lying down in a copse and dying some time next week.