ping from the
stile, cried aloud--

"Oh! Tom, don't shoot--don't shoot!--it's only me--Jim Smith!"

Down dropped the gun from the sportsman's grasp.

"Oh! you fool! you--you--considerable fool!" cried he, supporting
himself on a neighbouring hawthorn, which very kindly and considerately
lent him an arm on the occasion. "It's a great mercy--a very great
mercy, Jim--as we wasn't both killed!--another minute, only another
minute, and--but it won't bear thinking on."

"Forgive me, Tom," said the penitent joker; "I never was so near a corpse
afore. If I didn't think the shots were clean through me, and that's
flat."

"Sich jokes," said Tom, "is onpardonable, and you must be mad."

"I confess I'm out of my head, Tom," said Jim, who was dangling the huge
mask in his hand, and fast recovering from the effects of his fright.
"Depend on it, I won't put myself in such a perdicament again, Tom. No,
no--no more playing the devil; for, egad! you had liked to have played
the devil with me."

"A joke's a joke," sagely remarked Tom, picking up his hat and fowling
piece.

"True!" replied Smith; "but, I think, after all, I had the greatest cause
for being in a fright. You had the best chance, at any rate; for I could
not have harmed you, whereas you might have made a riddle of me."

"Stay, there!" answered Tom; "I can tell you, you had as little cause for
fear as I had, you come to that; for the truth is, the deuce a bit of
powder or shot either was there in the piece!"

"You don't say so!" said Jim, evidently disappointed and chop-fallen at
this discovery of his groundless fears. "Well, I only wish I'd known it,
that's all!"--then, cogitating inwardly for a minute, he continued--"but,
I say, Tom, you won't mention this little fright of yours?"

"No; but I'll mention the great fright--of Jim Smith--rely upon it," said
Tom, firmly; and he kept his word so faithfully, that the next day the
whole story was circulated, with many ingenious additions, to the great
annoyance of the practical joker.

FISHING FOR WHITING AT MARGATE.

"Here we go up--up--up;
And here we go down--down--down."

"Variety," as Cowper says, "is the very spice of life"--and certainly, at
Margate, there is enough, in all conscience, to delight the most
fastidious of pleasure-hunters.

There sailors ply for passengers for a trip in their pleasure boats,
setting forth all the tempting delights of a fine breeze--and woe-betide
the unfortunat