dog killed yesterday alive in the basket; and in the fourth
there were twenty-four _hipper switches_ threshing tobacco, and
at the sight of me they threshed so hard that they drove the
plug through the wall, and through a little dog that was passing
by on the other side. I, hearing the dog howl, jumped over the
wall; and turned it as neatly inside out as possible, when it
ran away as if it had not an hour to live. Then he took me into
the park to show me his deer: and I remembered that I had a
warrant in my pocket to shoot venison for his majesty's dinner.
So I set fire to my bow, poised my arrow, and shot amongst them.
I broke seventeen ribs on one side, and twenty-one and a half on
the other: but my arrow passed clean through without ever
touching it, and the worst was I lost my arrow; however, I found
it again in the hollow of a tree. I felt it: it felt clammy. I
smelt it; it smelt honey. 'Oh, ho!' said I, 'here's a bee's
nest,' when out sprung a covey of partridges. I shot at them;
some say I killed eighteen, but I am sure I killed thirty-six,
besides a dead salmon which was flying over the bridge, of which
I made the best apple pie I ever tasted."

Such is the story: I can answer for its general accuracy. I am quite at
sea as to the meaning and orthography of "hipper switches,"--having
heard, not seen, the story.

S.G.

Corpus Christi College, Cambridge.

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