ays at loggerheads with somebody; (2)
"The best shot in England," who is to be found in every country-side,
and in whose achievements all the sportsmen of his particular district
take a patriotic pride; (3) the folly and wickedness of those who talk
or write ignorantly against any kind of sport; (4) the deficiency of
hares due to the rascally provisions of the Hares and Rabbits Act; (5) a
few reminiscences, slightly glorified, of the particular day's sport;
and (6) a prolonged argument on the relative merits of the old plan of
shooting birds over dogs, and the modern methods of walking them up or
driving. These are not the only, but certainly the chief ingredients.
Let me give you an example, drawn from my note-book.

SCENE--_The Smoking-room of a Country-house in December. Six Sportsmen
in Smoking-coats. Time_, 11.15 P.M.

_First Sportsman_ (_concluding a harangue_). All I can say is, I never
read such rot in all my life. Why, the fellow doesn't know a gun from a
cartridge-bag. I'm perfectly sick of reading that everlasting rubbish
about "pampered minions of the aristocracy slaughtering the unresisting
pheasant in his thousands at battues." I wonder what the beggars imagine
a rocketing pheasant is like? I should like to have seen one of 'em
outside Chivy Wood to-day. I never saw taller birds in my life. Talk of
_them_ being easy! Why, a pheasant gets ever so much more show for his
money when he's beaten over the guns. If they simply walk him up, he
hasn't got a thousand to one chance. Bah!

[_Drinks from a long glass._

_Second Sportsman._ I saw in some paper the other day what the President
of the United States thought about English battue-shooting. Seemed to
think we shot pheasants perched in the trees, and went on to say that
wasn't the sport for _him; he_ liked to go after his game, and find it
for himself. Who the deuce cares if he does? If he can't talk better
sense than that, no wonder CLEVELAND beat him in the election.

_Third Sp._ Pure rubbish, of course. Still I must say, apart from
pheasants, I like the old plan of letting your dogs work. It's far more
sport than walking up partridges in line, or getting them driven at you.

_First Sp._ My dear fellow, I don't agree with you a bit. In the first
place, as to driving--driven birds are fifty times more difficult; and
what's the use of wasting time with setters or pointers in ordinary
root-fields. It's all sentim