" Every idle wight that is
lucky enough to possess an old gun or blunderbuss, together with all
the archery of Slingsby's school, take the field on the occasion. In
vain does the little parson interfere, or remonstrate, in angry tones
from his study window that looks into the churchyard; there is a
continual popping, from morning till night. Being no great marksmen,
their shots are not often effective; but every now and then, a great
shout from the besieging army of bumpkins makes known the downfall of
some unlucky squab rook, which comes to the ground with the emphasis
of a squashed apple-dumpling.
Nor is the rookery entirely free from other troubles and disasters. In
so aristocratical and lofty-minded a community, which boasts so much
ancient blood and hereditary pride, it is natural to suppose that
questions of etiquette will sometimes arise and affairs of honour
ensue. In fact, this is very often the case; bitter quarrels break out
between individuals, which produce sad scufflings on tree-tops, and I
have more than once seen a regular duel take place between two doughty
heroes of the rookery. Their field of battle is generally the air; and
their contest is managed in the most scientific and elegant manner;
wheeling round and round each other, and towering higher and higher,
to get the vantage-ground, until they sometimes disappear in the
clouds before the combat is determined.
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