THE WELSH BORDERLAND 



As regards the latter, so far from a severely business 

 attitude while spreading our board, tales of modest 

 experiences by flood and field, but the more genuine 

 for their limitations, sometimes interfered with strict 

 punctuality. For this worthy pair were not only 

 addicted to rods but to firearms. The lady had a 

 rifle of her own and, according to her admiring spouse, 

 could knock over rabbits with unerring aim. Their 

 opportunities, poor things, were now woefully re- 

 stricted. They had little truck, I think, with their 

 neighbours, and seemed suflBcient unto themselves 

 with their dreams of fields and woods and streams, for 

 both were naturalists in their way. Not entirely 

 dreams though, even then, for there were friendly 

 farmers about in the neighbourhood with rabbits, 

 wood pigeons, and the chance of an occasional crack 

 at a partridge or pheasant, who knows ? And let the 

 better-placed reader who has never knocked one over 

 without a game licence throw the first stone. These 

 were red letters in the year to be looked forward to 

 and treasured afterwards. And sometimes the lady 

 went too and took her rifle along. 



They astonished me one day by the remark that 

 ' deer shooting ' opened on such and such a date, and 

 that my gentleman was looking to his gun in readiness 

 for the campaign. This sounded something tremen- 

 dous, mysterious, and even criminal, and no wonder ! 

 But the explanation proved simple, though interesting, 

 since, I beheve, the situation is unique in England. 

 For in the near neighbourhood of Ludlow there rises 

 a range of lofty hills, clad for miles with dense unbroken 

 woodland — the scene, in fact, of Milton's Comus, which 



