He wore a cloak upon his shoulders, which was thrown back from over a velvet coat, and, except for the light double-barrelled rifle in his hand, looked exactly like a picture by Van Dyck which Mr.Savage had just informed me was that of one of his lordship's ancestors of the time of Charles I.
Standing behind another oak, I observed that he was trying to shoot wood-pigeons as they descended to feed upon the acorns, for which the hard weather had made them greedy.

From time to time these beautiful blue birds appeared and hovered a moment before they settled, whereon the sportsman fired and--they flew away.

_Bang! Bang!_ went the double-barrelled rifle, and off fled the pigeon.
"Damn!" said the sportsman in a pleasant, laughing voice; "that's the twelfth I have missed, Charles." "You hit his tail, my lord.

I saw a feather come out.

But, my lord, as I told you, there ain't no man living what can kill pigeons on the wing with a bullet, even when they seem to sit still in the air." "I have heard of one, Charles.