There Was Great Excitement While We Were In England Concerning The
Pheasants.
Either the pheasants were preying on the mangel-wurzels
or the mangel-wurzels were preying on the pheasants.
At any rate
it had something to do with the Land Bill - practically everything
that happens in England has something to do with the Land Bill - and
Lloyd George was in a free state of perspiration over it; and the
papers were full of it and altogether there was a great pother
over it.
We saw pheasants by the score. We saw them first from the windows
of our railroad carriage - big, beautiful birds nearly as large as
barnyard fowls and as tame, feeding in the bare cabbage patches,
regardless of the train chugging by not thirty yards away; and
later we saw them again at still closer range as we strolled along
the haw-and-holly-lined roads of the wonderful southern counties.
They would scuttle on ahead of us, weaving in and out of the
hedgerows; and finally, when we insisted on it and flung pebbles
at them to emphasize our desires, they would get up, with a great
drumming of wings and a fine comet-like display of flowing
tailfeathers on the part of the cock birds, and go booming away
to what passes in Sussex and Kent for dense cover - meaning by that
thickets such as you may find in the upper end of Central Park.
They say King George is one of the best pheasant-shots in England.
He also collects postage stamps when not engaged in his regular
regal duties, such as laying cornerstones for new workhouses and
receiving presentation addresses from charity children.
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