Long Tails and Short Ones. 65 



opinion. The mania for killing, when once it is set a going, grows by 

 what it feeds on ; and though there is a line beyond which sport declines 

 into mere butchery, where that line precisely is to be drawn depends 

 upon a great variety of views ; indeed, as regards pheasant shooters, I fear 

 it woidd be " Quot homines tot sententise." 



" Telegram, sir," said my servant, as I stood rod in hand on the bank of 

 the Thames, trying, for lack of better amusement, to beguile the wily dace 

 in the latter end of a fine cheery October. Summer had been late, and 

 though a few frosts early in October had gilded the leaves, and scattered 

 some, a week or two's fine weather had made things pleasant and brisk 

 again, and a few stray flies had tempted the grandfathers of Cyprinus 

 leuciscus and the younglings of Cyprinus cephalus to sport in the streams 

 and look about for surface food. I had picked up an odd dozen or so, when 

 " Telegram, sir," from my servant, who came up in hot haste, arrested me. 

 "Telegram, 1mm!" "Was Jinks going to settle?" or "had Spooks got 

 an offer at last for my uncle's Tierra del Euego stock ?" or had any distant 

 and unknown relative died and left me a legacy ?" Telegrams may contain 

 anything — good, bad, or indifferent, and I twiddled the bit of pink paper 

 between my fingers doubtfully, and at length opened it. " Raymond Bush ! 

 What can behave to telegraph about?" Oh, "Come and shoot pheasants 

 to-morrow, and meet me at Scrunchem Station at 9.45." Scrunchem, eh ! 

 Let's see; there's sure to be a train to Kingscote in time for that, and it's 

 only two miles across to the X Dividend line. I can do it easily. So I 

 scrawled on the other side, "All right — 9.45 ;" handed it to my man, with 

 the indispensable shilling, and went on with my fishing. 



Raymond was one of those fortunate fellows who had prospered in all 

 that he took in hand, and who had some shooting down the line, and it 

 wasn't likely to be very bad, as he knew what was what in most things. 

 So, having filled my cartridge bag, ordered Thane, a favourite retriever, 

 an extra biscuit for his supper, I went to bed and perpetrated a swindle 

 by sleeping the sleep of the righteous; and, after properly fortifying 

 the inner man next morning, lighted my weed, jumped into my cab 

 with my belongings, and drove off to the station. 9.45 saw me at the 

 appointed place, and in another quarter of an hour the station-master, 



K 



