MR. PIPS HIS DIARY.
A Partie of Sportsmen ovt a Shvtynge.
[Monday, October 1, 1849.]
UP mighty betimes, and to Bruſwood for a Day's Shooting, by Invitation from Mr. Tibbitts, whoſe Father, the rich Furrier, did die the other Day, and leave him a Fortune, and now he hath rented Bruſhwood Manor to moot over for the Seaſon. But Lack, what a ſet of young Rogues I found there of Tibbitts his Acquaintance, a-ſmoking of Cigars and ſhort Pipes, and a-drinking of Ale and bottled Stout at 10 o'clock of the Morning! Mighty aſhamed of, though diverted with, my Company, to hear their looſe and idle Converſation, and how none of them could pronounce the letter H, and to think what an unlettered vulgar Fellow Tibbitts is, and that I ſhould demean myſelf to aſſociate with ſuch a Companion only becauſe of his Riches, and Wine, and Dinners. One of the Party, Wiggyns, did tell me we mould have a prime Lark, which, this being the firſt Day of Pheaſant-Shooting, I did think droll; but divers Larks, indeed, were ſhot before the Day was over. So we into the Fields, and a Keeper following us with the Dogs, and, whenever I did look over my Shoulder, did catch him grinning and making Faces behind our Backs. But ſtrange, to ſee how much better the Rogues did ſhoot than I expected, though firing at Tom-Tits, or anything almoſt, and do underſtand they got this Skill at the Red Houſe, Batterſea, through popping at Pigeons and
