Sketches by Seymour Part 16

"It's wery strange, I do declare; I never see!

I go at sky-larks in the hair Or on a tree."

"It's all the same, they fly away Has I let fly-- The birds is frightened, I dare say, And vill not die."

"Vhy, here's a go! I hav'nt ramm'd In any shot; The birds must think I only shamm'd, And none have got."

"I'll undeceive 'em quickly now, I bet a crown; And whether fieldfare, t.i.t, or crow, Vill bring 'em down."

And as he spake a pigeon flew Across his way-- Bang went his piece--and Jenkins slew The flutt'ring prey.

He bagg'd his game, and onward went, When to his view Another rose, by fortune sent To make up two.

He fired, and beheld it fall With inward glee, And for a minute 'neath a wall Stood gazing he.

When from behind, fierce, heavy blows Fell on his hat, And knock'd his beaver o'er his nose, And laid him flat.

"What for," cried Jenkins, "am I mill'd, Sir, like this ere?"

"You villain, you, why you have kill'd My pouter rare."

The st.u.r.dy knave who struck him down With frown replied:-- "For which I'll make you pay a crown Nor be denied."

Poor Jenkins saw it was in vain To bandy words; So paid the cash and vow'd, again He'd not shoot birds--

At least of that same feather, lest For Pouter shot Some Dragon fierce should him molest-- And fled the spot.

THE PIC-NIC. No. I.

A merry holiday party, forming a tolerable boat-load, and well provided with baskets of provisions, were rowing along the beautiful and picturesque banks that fringe the river's side near Twickenham, eagerly looking out for a spot where they might enjoy their "pic-nic" to perfection.

"O! uncle, there's a romantic glade;--do let us land there!" exclaimed a beautiful girl of eighteen summers, to a respectable old gentleman in a broad brimmed beaver and spectacles.

"Just the thing, I declare," replied he--"the very spot--pull away, my lads--but dear me" continued he, as they neared the intended landing-place, "What have we here? What says the board?"

"PARTIES ARE NOT, ALLOWED TO LAND AND DINE HERE"

Oh! oh! very well; then we'll only land here, and dine a little further on."

"What a repulsive board"--cried the young lady--"I declare now I'm quite vex'd"--

"Never mind, Julia, we won't be bored by any board"--said the jocose old gentleman.

"I'm sure, uncle"--said one of the youths--"we don't require any board, for we provide ourselves."

"You're quite right, Master d.i.c.key," said his uncle; "for we only came out for a lark, you know, and no lark requires more than a little turf for its entertainment; pull close to the bank, and let us land."

"Oh! but suppose," said the timid Julia, "the surly owner should pounce upon us, just as we are taking our wine?"

"Why then, my love," replied he, "we have only to abandon our wine, and, like sober members of the Temperance Society--take water."

Pulling the wherry close along side the gra.s.sy bank, and fastening it carefully to the stump of an old tree, the whole party landed.

"How soft and beautiful is the green-sward here," said the romantic Julia, indenting the yielding gra.s.s with her kid-covered tiny feet; "Does not a gentleman of the name of Nimrod sing the pleasure of the Turf?"

said Emma: "I wonder if he ever felt it as we do?"

"Certainly not," replied Master d.i.c.key, winking at his uncle; "for the blades of the Turf he describes, are neither so fresh nor so green as these; and the 'stakes' he mentions are rather different from those contained in our pigeon-pie."

"But I doubt, d.i.c.key," said his uncle, "if his pen ever described a better race than the present company. The Jenkins's, let me tell you, come of a good stock, and sport some of the best blood in the country."

"Beautiful branches of a n.o.ble tree," exclaimed Master d.i.c.ky, "but, uncle, a hard row has made me rather peckish; let us spread the provender. I think there's an honest hand of pork yonder that is right worthy of a friendly grasp;--only see if, by a single touch of that magical hand, I'm not speedily transformed into a boat."

"What sort of a boat?" cried Julia. "A cutter, to be sure," replied Master d.i.c.ky, and laughing he ran off with his male companions to bring the provisions ash.o.r.e.

Meanwhile the uncle and his niece selected a level spot beneath the umbrageous trees, and prepared for the unpacking of the edibles.

THE PIC-NIC. No. II

Notwithstanding the proverbial variety of the climate, there is no nation under the sun so fond of Pic-Nic parties as the English; and yet how seldom are their pleasant dreams of rural repasts in the open air fated to be realized!

However snugly they may pack the materials for the feast, the pack generally gets shuffled in the carriage, and consequently their promised pleasure proves anything but "without mixture without measure."

The jam-tarts are brought to light, and are found to have got a little jam too much. The bottles are cracked before their time, and the liberal supplies of pale sherry and old port are turned into a--little current.

They turn out their jar of ghirkins, and find them mixed, and all their store in a sad pickle.

The leg of mutton is the only thing that has stood in the general melee.

The plates are all dished, and the dishes only fit for a lunatic asylum, being all literally cracked.

Even the knives and forks are found to ride rusty on the occasion. The bread is become sop; and they have not even the satisfaction of getting salt to their porridge, for that is dissolved into briny tears.

Like the provisions, they find themselves uncomfortably hamper'd; for they generally chuse such a very retired spot, that there is nothing to be had for love or money in the neighbourhood, for all the shops are as distant as--ninety-ninth cousins!

However delightful the scenery may be, it is counterbalanced by the prospect of starvation.

Although on the borders of a stream abounding in fish, they have neither hook nor line; and even the young gentlemen who sing fail in a catch for want of the necessary bait. Their spirits are naturally damped by their disappointment, and their holiday garments by a summer shower; and though the ducks of the gentlemen take the water as favourably as possible, every white muslin presently a.s.sumes the appearance of a drab, and, becoming a little limp and dirty, looks as miserable as a lame beggar!

In fine, it is only a donkey or a goose that can reasonably expect to obtain a comfortable feed in a field. It may be very poetical to talk of "Nature's table-cloth of emerald verdure;" but depend on it, a damask one, spread over that full-grown vegetable--a mahogany table--is far preferable.