fought after a quarrel of three years, during which they were practising daily. Stackpoole was so good a shot that he used to cut off the heads of the fowls for dinner as they drank out of the coops about. He had every wish to kill his antagonist, but he received his death-blow from Cecil, who fired rather fine, or rather was the quickest shot of the two. All he said when falling was, ‘Dn it, have I missed him?’ Shelley is a much better shot than I am, but he is thinking of metaphysics rather than of firing.”
I understand that Lord Byron is always in better spirits after having culped (as he calls it) the targe often, or hit a five-franc piece, the counterpart of which is always given to the farmer, who is making a little fortune. All the pieces struck, Lord Byron keeps to put, as he says, in his museum.
We now continued our ride, and returned to Pisa by the Lucca gate.
“Pisa with its hanging tower and Sophia-like dome reminds me,” said Lord Byron, “of an eastern place.”
