Ill SPORT. 



westerly breeze. We proceed to the first covert, a 

 small clump in the park in sight of the windows 

 of the mansion — which is not necessarily of the 

 "fine old Elizabethan type." Hazel slips stuck 

 in the ground about eighty or a hundred yards from 

 the covert, with a small piece of paper in a cleft at 

 the top, mark the several positions of the four forward 

 guns, whom the host now numbers off to occupy, 

 taking the other with himself to walk in line with 

 the beaters. For a time not a sound save the gentle 

 tapping of the beaters' sticks is heard ; there is no 

 shouting, no "Hi, cock!" or wild yelling, which is 

 deemed so indispensable at uncultivated battues. 

 The host will not allow such barbarous customs (for 

 be it known, as he well knows, that the more noise 

 the less sport ; that shouting, instead of driving game 

 forward, especially as regards ground game, drives 

 it back). Then a shot or two, followed by several 

 more from the inside guns, who are now warmly 

 engaged with the rabbits, then the first pheasant — 

 an old cock — is seen by the forward guns sailing 



