Sir Vane Peacock left no children, and the estates descended to his cousin, Sir Java Peacock, who, fortunately for Carlo, had been too long a witness of the evils arising from game-preserving to wish to continue them. Immediately after taking possession, the new landlord sent a note round, informing every tenant on his estate that he was at perfect liberty to shoot or course all the game he found on his own farm.
It is said that from that time Carlo dined off roast hare and currant-jelly at least once in every week for the remainder of his life.
IN a charming retreat, upon the borders of a wood in Gloucestershire, I once enjoyed the society of some friends, named Leverett, with whom I was very intimate. They seemed to be the happiest little family in the world, subsisted mostly on the produce of their farm, and always welcomed a neighbour like myself with great hospitality. I resided at that time at a pleasant place called the Sandpits, not far from their abode, and I often looked in as I passed by, for half an hour's chat with the old lady, or to ask Jack or his brother Bob to take a stroll with me in the woods. The father was remarkable for his extreme caution, seldom went far from home, and never meddled with other people's affairs. It would have been well had his sons followed his example; but then I should not have had this tale to tell.
Close by us, at the largest farm-house in the county, there lived a Mr. Chanticleer, one of the proudest and most irritable fellows I ever had the misfortune to meet with. To see the airs with which he strutted about his farm-yard, and drove all the ducks and geese flying to make way for him, often made Jack Leverett and myself laugh: but when he went out for a walk with his wife and daughters, his consequence appeared to be increased tenfold, and one wondered where the path was broad enough for him to walk upon.
Mr. Chanticleer was extremely jealous of any intrusion upon his property, and warned off every one who did but set foot on his land. Tom Leverett knew this well enough, and knew what a pugnacious and litigious fellow his neighbour was, so he ought to have been more careful than to give Chanticleer any ground of complaint. Tom, it appears, had a great taste for botany, and often rose early to indulge in his favourite pursuit. One morning, in the ardour of his search for some particular plant, Tom crept through the hedge into one of his neighbour's fields; and so much absorbed was he in the discovery of some sweet-tasting grass which he had never before met with, that he did not notice the approach of Mr. Chanticleer, until that worthy was close upon him.