68 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



ailing horse, which turned its head as if to hsten, he 

 said, 'I don't think there is much the matter, George. 

 I have sent William to get a bran mash with a handful 

 or two of scalded oats in it. I have given him a dose. 

 In two hours' time give him the other. I am coming 

 this way in the morning, and will have another look 

 at him/ 



Mr Tom Wilson, veterinary surgeon, farmer, 

 cricketer, and all-round sportsman, is a man of few 

 words, and those so modest that j^ou might not be 

 impressed by them were they not emphasised by 

 every feature of his face. His reputation as a vet. 

 is great, and it is thought that he has no equal as 

 a sportsman in all the country round. There is great 

 rejoicing by the opposing side when his wicket falls, 

 and the pace and break of his deliveries are very 

 disconcerting. He fishes, but it is of his shooting 

 I wish to tell. 



I have heard it said that doctors get callous to 

 their fellow-creatures' pains. I do not believe it. 

 Tom Wilson, surgeon to the lower animxals, was certainly 

 not so affected by his daily contact with his patients, 

 for it was his kindly thought for their sufferings and 

 his horror of giving them pain that made him so near 

 perfection as a shot. His pity was great for the man 

 who shot wildly into a twirling covey, while he felt 

 something stronger for a thoughtless shooter who could 

 fire at a going bird fifty yards away, and lay claim to 

 having hit it. I have seen him walk a field and not 

 raise his gun when the other shooters have been busy. 

 He told me he would sooner walk all day and not dis- 

 charge his gun than fire a shot that he could not hope 

 to kill clean with. There is nothing new in Thomas 

 Wilson's theories, but it is a pleasure to see 

 them put into practice in such thorough fashion 

 as his. 



'Have you caught the big trout yet?' was his 

 address to me as he shook my hand after his 



