to breakfast."

'There were about half a dozen of the Fifth at that time in the barrack,
who all entered heart and hand into the scheme, and with them we sat
down to a capital meal, which, if it was not for a big tea-pot and an
urn that figured in the middle of the table, might very well have been
called dinner. Poor Mr. Green, who for old prejudice' sake began with
his congo and a muffin, soon afterwards, and by an easy transition,
glided into soup and fish, and went the pace with the rest of us. The
claret began to circulate briskly, and after a couple of hours the
whisky made its appearance. The Englishman, whose attention was
never suffered to flag with singular anecdotes of a country, whose
eccentricities he already began to appreciate, enjoyed himself to the
utmost. He laughed, he drank, he even proposed to sing; and with one
hand on Oakley's shoulder, and the other on mine, he registered a vow to
purchase an estate and spend the rest of his days in Ireland. It was now
about eleven o'clock, when I proposed that we should have a couple of
hours at the woodcocks before luncheon.

'"Ah, yes," said Green, rubbing his hands, "let us not forget the
shooting. I 'm passionately fond of sport."

'It took some time to caparison ourselves for the field. Shot-bags,
flasks, and powder-horns were distributed about, while three brace of
dogs caracoled round the room, and increased the uproar. We now sallied
forth. It was a dark and starless night--the wind still Mowing a
hurricane from the north-east, and not a thing to be seen two yards from
where you stood.

'"Glorious weather!" said Oakley.

'"A delicious morning!" cried another. "When those clouds blow over we
shall have no rain."

'"That's a fine line of country, Mr. Green," said I.

'"Eh? what? a fine what? I can see nothing--it's pitch dark."

'"Ah, I forgot," said I. "How stupid we were, Oakley, not to remember
that Mr. Green was not used to our climate! We can see everything, you
know; but come along, you'll get better by-and-by."

'With this we hurried him down a lane, through a hedge, and into a
ploughed field; while on every side of him pop, pop went the guns,
accompanied by exclamations of enthusiastic pleasure and delight.

'"There they go--mark! That's yours, Tom! Well done--cock pheasant* by
Jove! Here, Mr. Green! this way, Mr. Green! that dog is pointing--there,
there! don't you see there?" said I, almost lifting the gun to his
shoulder, while poor