1 8 LETTERS TO YOUNG SHOOTERS LETTER 



with three guns and three loaders, standing close round the end 

 of a wood with these partially crippled pheasants (encompassed 

 as they are by men and nets) all huddled together just before 

 the guns ! Of course some of the birds can fly, and these are as 

 often missed as killed oftener a good deal ; but the wing- clipped 

 ones, as they are driven forward by the keepers in a drove like 

 sheep, are either shot down at six or seven yards' distance as 

 they spring off the ground in their endeavours to fly, or are else 

 shot as they run along the ground ! a truly sporting sight ! 

 The head keeper soon appears and says, " Good sport, I hope, 

 gentlemen," and is told, " Splendid, excellent ; we never saw so 

 many or such fine birds." When several woods are shot through 

 in this fashion luncheon takes place. Whilst luncheon (soup, 

 fish, joints, &c., washed down by champagne, with music at 

 times as a variety) progresses, a very curious scene is enacted 

 just out of sight, and this is the advent of the local auctioneer, 

 who knocks down the game to various dealers at so much a 

 brace according to the bidding ! At the close of the day a 

 similar scene occurs, and the auctioneer (who is sometimes 

 given the use of a gun and dog) finally hands a handsome 

 cheque to the lord of the manor for the game he has sold ! 



' Now the farming tenants, be it remarked, who have reared 

 and supported the game on their farms, have to bid like anyone 

 else ! Perhaps the least pleasant part of the luncheon hour is 

 the paunching of the birds, that always has to be done before a 

 large number are offered at auction, and which is often a dis- 

 gusting evidence of the slaughter. 



' After luncheon the " sportsmen " return to the woods, and, 

 excited by " good cheer," blaze right and left even at such harm- 

 less objects as blackbirds and thrushes ! in fact, at everything 

 that runs or flies. As the evening approaches the shooters 

 return to the abode of their host, and as each enters its hos- 

 pitable door he is expected to drop a " douceur," from a couple 

 of sovereigns to a five or ten pound note, into the hat of the 

 head keeper, who stands bareheaded " like a lion in the path," 

 expecting his fees for organising the " battue." In the smoking 

 room the master of the house congratulates his friends on their 



