298 PARTRIDGES 



and heathen gods, cunningly fashioned in 

 yew, remain an enduring monument to 

 some forgotten professor of the topiary art. 



The second gong announcing breakfast 

 finds you no laggard to its summons, for 

 you are young and very keen to hold 

 your own to-day with your elders and 

 betters, and are feeling all the better this 

 morning for having gone easy at dinner 

 and early to bed last night, resisting the 

 insidious attractions of bridge, and only 

 staying in the smoking-room long enough 

 to enjoy one modest pipe, while you 

 conned the pages of the house game-book 

 with a view of elucidating the chances of 

 the next day. Breakfast over, you fetch 

 your retriever from the stables, where he 

 has been housed, and join the rest of the 

 party on the lawn. Places are drawn, 

 and you find that yours is an outside 

 number no bad thing, for it will give 

 you a chance of finding your form before 

 undertaking more serious business in the 

 centre of the line. 



Ten minutes in a well-appointed car 



