And if, years hence, some lover of the curious should seek to add to the treasures of his library a true copy of that famous lost tract, "A Whip for the Bishops," let me tell him in his ear, the book is to be had cheap, midway across Shotover wood, somewhere to the left of the lower path which leads to Heddendon.
Nowhere else was it ever published, to that I can vouch.
I had scarcely finished my task when I heard a whoop from among the trees, followed immediately by the whiz of an arrow which glanced betwixt my cheek and my shoulder, and buried its head deep in the trunk of a near tree.
I had scarcely time to face round and draw my sword, when I perceived coming down the glade my wild scholar with a bow in his hand, and a dead fox on his back.

He had plainly not seen who I was at first, but recognised me as soon as I turned.

He marched gravely towards me, equally heedless of my drawn sword, and of the shaft which a moment ago had all but taken my life.
"Is it you ?" said he; "I took you, in your cap and gown, for my tutor." "You all but killed me, too," said I, wrathfully.
"Ay, it was a bad shot.

Yet, had you not moved your head, it would have spiked you by the ear to that tree.

What brings you here ?" I was taken aback by the coolness of the fellow, who talked about spiking me by the ear as if I had been the fox he carried on his back.
"Marry," said I, "you should know what brings me here.