The Real Poacher. 14; 



is a complete fallacy, in our day at least. Poaching 

 is no longer an amusement, a thing to be indulged in 

 because 



It's my delight of a shiny night 

 In the season of the year ; 



but a hard, prosaic business, a matter of £ s. d. y re- 

 quiring a long-headed, shrewd fellow, with a power of 

 silence, capable of a delicacy of touch which almost 

 raises poaching into a fine art. The real man is often 

 a sober and to all appearance industrious individual, 

 working steadily during the day at some handicraft 

 in the village, as blacksmithing, hedge-carpentering — 

 i.e. making posts and rails, &c. — cobbling, tinkering, 

 or perhaps in the mill ; a somewhat reserved, solitary 

 workman of superior intelligence and frequently 

 advanced views as to the ' rights of labour.' He has 

 no appetite for thrilling adventure ; his idea is simply 

 money, and he looks upon his night-work precisely as 

 he does upon his day-labour. 



His great object is to avoid suspicion, knowing 

 that success will be proportionate to his skill in cloak- 

 ing his operations ; for in a small community, when 

 a man is ' suspect/ it is comparatively easy to watch 

 him, and a poacher knows that if he is watched he 

 must sooner or later be caught. Secrecy is not so 

 very difficult ; for it is only with certain classes that 



