A Sportsman at Large is 



out and far afield, whilst yet the senior members of the family 

 were wrapped in slumber. 



No tit-mice for me this time ! Nothing less than a black- 

 bird, a thrush, or perhaps, with luck, a wood pigeon, would 

 satisfy my ambition. As matters turned out, one of the 

 elusive " doves " did actually " fall for it." Of course it 

 was a sitter, but none the less precious. I had several shots at 

 blackbirds and thrushes on the wing, and never touched a 

 feather. On the other hand, I carefully stalked a bunch of 

 starlings which sat chattering and whistling on the summit of 

 a dead tree. Much to my delight, three of them fell to my shot. 



Then a disturbing thought obtruded itself. What was I to 

 do with my bag ? With the primitive instincts of a New 

 Guinea cannibal, I was dead set on devouring the fallen ; 

 but I dared not acquaint my parents with the fact that I had 

 taken to shooting with a real gun, without even saying : 

 " By your leave." 



At that time my paternal grandmother was at the head of 

 the domestic commissariat and culinary department, since my 

 mother was an invalid. The former was a fairylike little 

 creature of the old-fashioned sort, saucy silvery curls, cap of 

 the finest lace, and mittens, all complete. I remember that 

 she had the most beautiful hands, and the brightest eyes I 

 ever remember to have seen in one of her age. She was then 

 well on in the eighties. She was of the ancient town of Taunton, 

 and when she migrated to Moat Mount, she brought with her 

 as cook an ancient serving maid, of similar age, typical of 

 the brave county of " Zummerzet sheer." 



Ere this, the original " Nannie " had been joined in holy 

 wedlock to the coachman, and the happy pair had set up in a 

 snug little country pub, not far remote from our home. Where- 

 upon " Old Mary " had adopted me as her own particular pet 

 so wholeheartedly that everything I might say or do was 

 deemed by her to be absolutely correct, whilst every lapse 

 from grace on my part was camouflaged, or passed over 

 with loving leniency. 



If Nannie was the first woman I ever loved, Mary was sure 

 a good second, though I fear my passion was o'ercast by 

 more than a shade of opportunism, inasmuch as her cunning 



