'What's sport for one,
is death to another,' I once heard at the village-school read out
of a copy-book.
"This was the last larceny old Fulcher ever committed. He could
keep his neck always out of the noose, but he could not always keep
his leg out of the trap. A few nights after, having removed to a
distance, he went to an osier car in order to steal some osiers for
his basket-making, for he never bought any. I followed a little
way behind. Old Fulcher had frequently stolen osiers out of the
car, whilst in the neighbourhood, but during his absence the
property, of which the car was a part, had been let to a young
gentleman, a great hand for preserving game. Old Fulcher had not
got far into the car before he put his foot into a man-trap.
Hearing old Fulcher shriek, I ran up, and found him in a dreadful
condition. Putting a large stick which I carried into the jaws of
the trap, I contrived to prize them open, and get old Fulcher's leg
out, but the leg was broken. So I ran to the caravan, and told
young Fulcher of what had happened, and he and I helped his father
home. A doctor was sent for, who said that it was necessary to
take the leg off, but old Fulcher, being very much afraid of pain,
said it should not be taken off, and the doctor went away, but
after some days, old Fulcher becoming worse, ordered the doctor to
be sent for, who came and took off his leg, but it was then too
late, mortification had come on, and in a little time old Fulcher
died.
Pages:
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423