into the room, followed by Mr. Simpson, and throwing off his macintosh
cape, pitches a large fluttering mass of feathers into the middle of the
circle.

"Halloo, Muff! how are you, my bean--what's up?" is the general
exclamation.

"Oh, here's a lark!" is all Mr. Muff's reply.

"Lark!" cries Mr. Rapp; "you're drunk, Muff--you don't mean to call that a
lark!"

"It's a beautiful patriarchal old hen," returns Mr. Muff, "that I bottled
as she was meandering down the mews; and now I vote we have her for lunch.
Who's game to kill her?"

Various plans are immediately suggested, including cutting her head off,
poisoning her with morphia, or shooting her with a little cannon Mr Rapp
has got in his locker; but at last the majority decide upon hanging her. A
gibbet is speedily prepared, simply consisting of a thigh-bone laid across
two high stools; a piece of whip cord is then noosed round the victim's
neck; and she is launched into eternity, as the newspapers say--Mr. Manhug
attending to pull her legs.

"Depend upon it that's a humane death," remarks Mr. Jones. "I never tried
to strangle a fowl but once, and then I twisted its neck bang off. I know
a capital plan to finish cats though."

"Throw it off--put it up--let's have it," exclaim the circle.