The Rabbit Battue, 241 



a response in the breast of every English reader ; " I like the round- 

 cropped bullet-head that one never sees out of our own little island. 

 I like the fresh healthy colour that deepens instead of fading with 

 age 3 and the burly, thick-set form, square and substantial as a 

 tower, deriving its solid proportions from a good English ancestry, 

 ' men of mould,' since the days of Robin Hood, and the vigour from 

 good English beef and floods of nut-brown ale. These are the sort 

 of men that kept the greenwood in merry Nottinghamshire, and 

 bore back the chivalry of Europe at Agincourt, Cressy, and Poitiers; 

 these are the sort of men that would turn the tide of an invasion. 

 To-day handling the rifle as deftly as their fathers did the bow, yet 

 impatient, somewhat, of long bowls at five or six hundred yards, 

 and longing withal to get to close quarters, and try conclusions with 

 the bayonet. When it comes to clash of steel, depend upon it the 

 'weakest will go to the wall.' " 



I have often thought that if our French neighbours should ever 

 be rash enough to throw a body of their far-famed Zouaves on to 

 our coast, how a band of British gamekeepers, active resolute men, 

 armed with rifles, in the pride of manly strength, would bear them 

 down, especially if it came to clubbing distance. How easy is it to 

 pick every keeper out of this group ! The muscular form, the reso- 

 lute and determined, but frank, open countenance, the firm, but 

 respectful bearing, and, moreover, the true cut of the workman 

 about every one of them, all tell their own tale ; while the well- 

 worn, usefally-built fustian shooting-coat, and breeches and gaiters^ 

 form an appropriate sporting costume, such as one never sees out of 

 England. I don't know how it is, but a real, well-built English 

 shooting-coat seems a Chinese puzzle to a foreigner. What a con- 

 trast to the group now before us would a lot of swarthy, bearded 

 French chasseurs form ! each with a hugeFrench horn slung across his 

 back, his couteau de chasse by his side, his nondescript cap, his long 

 coat with no pockets, and his embroidered game-bag, in which are 

 stuffed all his shooting paraphernaha in one confused mass ! Or, 

 worse still, a group of blowsy, fat German jdgers, each with his 

 long pipe, and his broad, pasty-coloured face, looking exactly as if 



