MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF SHOOTING.

No. VII.

FORTUNATELY FOR MR. BRIGGS (WHO WILL LOAD HIS OWN GUN BECAUSE THEN HE KNOWS WHAT HE IS ABOUT) THE KEEPER DISCOVERS THAT HE HAS PUT ABOUT THREE-QUARTERS OF A POUND OF SHOT INTO HIS RIGHT-HAND BARREL.

GRAND SHOW OF PRIZE VEGETARIANS.

CONSOLATION.

"NOT KITCHED NONE! AH! SIR, YOU SHOULD HA' BIN HERE LAST TOOSDAY; THERE WAS TOO GENTS KILLED A UNCOMMON SIGHT A' FISH TO BE SURE, THEN."

BOTTOM FISHING.

Piscator No. 1. (miserably). "NOW, TOM, DO LEAVE OFF. IT ISN'T OF ANY USE; AND IT'S GETTING QUITE DARK."

Piscator No. 2. "LEAVE OFF!! WHAT A PRECIOUS DISAGREEABLE CHAP YOU ARE. YOU COME OUT FOR A DAY'S PLEASURE AND YOU'RE ALWAYS A-WANTING TO GO HOME!"