62 SPORTSMEN OF THE 



in winter are filled with water. Snipe 

 haunt the pools even now, but they fly up 

 so quickly and then zigzag that it is im- 

 possible to hit them. 



When a shot is fired guns are hidden, and 

 heads look round for policemen. Sparrows 

 are common game, thrushes and blackbirds 

 are considered the equivalent of pheasants, 

 and the large missel-thrush causes as much 

 excitement and admiration as a first wood- 

 cock. A pigeon is as rare as a golden 

 plover, and talked of for weeks. 



Sport is not confined to turning-up birds 

 and snap-shooting. The superior ones 

 carry guns ; the lowlier fraternity hunt the 

 humble rat, who loves the rubbish heaps. 

 Their holes are everywhere, by broken 

 umbrellas, decrepit straw hats, burst boots, 

 papers, straw, tins, novels, bottles, and old 

 torn shirts. Little terriers quiver with 

 excitement as their masters from Deptford 

 and Shoreditch dig with the crowbars 

 great excitement this. 



