A SPORTING TRIP TO FRANCE. 197 



and obedient retriever, and I am happy. The 

 present system of driving partridges is to me 

 odious a line of men across a turnip or stubble 

 field, a gun, a beater, a keeper, with his retrie- 

 ver; another gun, beater, and keeper, and so 

 on. What sport or excitement is there in this 

 blazing away, with a loader carrying your second 

 gun ? I say none, but different people have 

 different opinions. 



How well I remember a famous old song, 

 often sung by a jolly British yeoman of the 

 old school, one Bob Daws, of Bipley, Surrey, 

 one of the finest shots and best cricketers I 

 ever saw. How he used to chirp it forth after 

 dinner 



" To-morrow's the first of September, 



Get ready the dog and the gun ; 

 And be sure you don't fail to remember 



The whiskey flask marked number one. 

 With Juno you'll bring the black setter, 



Nor leave old friend Ponto behind ; 

 And sportsmen who wish for a better, 



I wish they a better may find." 



No ; give me my wild shooting, with no 

 keeper at my heels beating and cursing the 

 dogs, every now and then exclaiming, "I say, 



