198 THE COMPLETE SPORTSMAN 



the delicate beverage customarily served at the 

 tea-tables of the well-to-do. 



Picnickers, fortunately, come of a hardy stock, 

 and can make light of troubles which would 

 break the spirits of less resolute and dauntless 

 men; with commendable self-restraint the}^ re- 

 move intrusive pine-needles from the butter, 

 extract the writhing bodies of moribund wasps 

 from the jam, and smilingly hand each other 

 the battered remains of a packet of bruised egg- 

 sandwiches which some member of the party 

 has been unconsciously making use of as a has- 

 sock. They provide the world with a striking 

 lesson in stoical patience and fortitude when 

 they attempt to find a solid resting-place for 

 their brimming teacups among the roots of a 

 beech-tree, or endure without a murmur the 

 acute pain that comes from sitting down suddenly 

 upon an unexpected fir-cone; and no man who 

 watches them packing dirty plates into a basket 

 that has somehow grown too small to contain 

 them, can withhold a tribute of ungrudging 

 admiration. 



The growth of a sudden distaste for picnicking 

 is a sure symptom of the approach of middle 

 age; the consciousness of a strong disinclination 

 to share one's tea with the minor lepidoptera 

 of the forest is a landmark in a man's life which 

 he cannot afford to disregard. And if this is 



