ROEBUCK SHOOTING ON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE. 240 



could strike information of any value. At length I was sent 

 by a kind acquaintance with a letter in hand to the man 

 really in authority over the public shooting land. All was- 

 plain sailing now. It was arranged for me that two days- 

 hence I was to put myself under the guidance of a head- 

 forester, and was to be taken forth with a view to slaying 

 roebuck. Meanwhile, I had to "rustle up" a gun (smooth 

 16 bore, and cartridges of No. 3 shot the gunmaker insisted),. 

 I had also to obtain a ten-mark permit from the Kur-saal 

 (which seemed to me very much akin to applying at the 

 Trocadero or the Empire for a game-license), and I had 

 further to attend at the police-office armed with another 

 twenty marks — of which I was disarmed after an hour's dumb 

 confinement with an official who made notes on the colour 

 of my eyes, the tint of my remainder hair, on my length of 

 limb and my measurement of figure. 



Observe me, then, at one o'clock on the day in question (a 

 very hot day it was) seated in a landau — for Baden Baden 

 descends not to cabs or suchlike vulgar vehicles ; landaux- 

 and-pair, with liveried coachmen, being its only stage carriages. 

 Starting thus for a shoot — and a very problematical shoot, 

 too, I feared — I was in doubt whether my position was more 

 that of a prince-imperial going forth to a regal chasse or 

 that of my countryman 'Arry setting out for Epping Forest 

 on the Monday of Easter. No, there was too much state 

 about it for the latter. The hotel porter swept his goldlaced 

 cap to the ground, the proprietor gave me his blessing and 

 blandest smile as he bowed me into the carriage, and the 

 waiters, while lifting a hamper on to the box, flung at me 

 all such sweet expressions of good wishes and congratulation 

 as they could put into English. Oh, the start was deliciously 

 " chalk." It was a dream for a cowboy of an " English-lord 

 a setting out hunting." 



I then picked up the oberjager (if you don't speak German 

 I'll help you — that's an upper hunter, and should be spelled 

 with two dots over the a) : and a grim, warlike looking old 



