brake and the thickets. Destruction in itself was not the motive; it was
an overpowering instinct for woods and fields. Yet woods and fields lose
half their interest without a gun--I like the power to shoot, even
though I may not use it. The very perfection of our modern guns is to me
one of their drawbacks: the use of them is so easy and so certain of
effect that it takes away the romance of sport.

There could be no greater pleasure to me than to wander with a matchlock
through one of the great forests or wild tracts that still remain in
England. A hare a day, a brace of partridges, or a wild duck would be
ample in the way of actual shooting. The weapon itself, whether
matchlock, wheel-lock, or even a cross-bow, would be a delight. Some of
the antique wheel-lock guns are really beautiful specimens of design.
The old powder-horns are often gems of workmanship--hunting scenes cut
out in ivory, and the minutest detail of hoof or antler rendered with
life-like accuracy. How pleasant these carvings feel to the fingers! It
is delightful to handle such weapons and such implements.

The matchlocks, too, are inlaid or the stocks carved. There is slaughter
in every line of our modern guns--mechanical slaughter. But were I
offered participation in the bloodiest battue ever arranged, or the
freedom of an English forest or mountain tract, to go forth at any time
untrammelled by attendant, but only to shoot with matchlock, wheel-lock,
or cross-bow, my choice would be unhesitating.

There would be pleasure in winding up the lock with the spanner;
pleasure in adjusting the priming; or with the matchlock in lighting the
match. To wander out into the brake, to creep from tree to tree so
noiselessly that the woodpecker should not cease to tap--in that there
is joy. The consciousness that everything depends upon your own personal
skill, and that you have no second resource if that fails you, gives the
real zest to sport.

If the wheel did not knock a spark out quickly; if the priming had not
been kept dry or the match not properly blown, or the cross-bow set
exactly accurate, then the care of approach would be lost. You must hold
the gun steady, too, while the slow priming ignites the charge.

An imperfect weapon--yes; but the imperfect weapon would accord with the
great oaks, the beech trees full of knot-holes, the mysterious thickets,
the tall fern, the silence and the solitude. The chase would become a
real chase: not, as now, a