AN OLD SPORTSMAN. 51 



enough throughout England. Referring to a 

 footnote, I observed, quoted as an authority, 

 'The Gentleman's Recreation/ The dear 

 old book was full, to me, of the pleasantest 

 associations. It brought back the days of 

 Christmas holidays, and that delightful holiday 

 week with Uncle Joe at the " Wisp." His 

 life was, indeed, made up of a round of shoot- 

 ing arid fishing. He only put his gun in its 

 case to take down his rod from the rack. On 

 wet days he made artificial flies or cut wads. 

 In fine weather, if the river or the season did 

 not suit for actual sport, he had always a dog 

 or so to break in, or would take a walk by the 

 stream in order to mark where the biggest 

 trout were feeding. Then there were his boots 

 (he always prepared them himself) requiring to 

 be anointed with a mysterious and evil-smell- 

 ing compound, the recipe for which was taken 

 from the veritable ( Gentleman's Recreation ' 

 above mentioned. Cleaning his gun at night 

 in the kitchen was a tremendous business not 

 at all popular with Molly, the cook, who 

 would retire into a scullery to growl, while I 

 held the jug of hot-water which Uncle Joe 



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