A Sportsman at Large 147 



until the eighteenth. Then I struck a bad patch and went 

 all to pieces. I missed three birds out of four ; but, even 

 so, came out seventh in the list. 



" Le Grand Prix de Cloture " was the only really important 

 win that I registered at " Monte," though I had a look in at 

 a number of minor events and pools, whilst picking up some 

 tasty trifles at Cannes, Mont Boron (Nice) and Cap D'Ail 

 (La Turbie). It was at the first-named of these venues that 

 I had a pleasant and interesting social experience. A good 

 programme had been drawn up, but for some reason or other 

 it failed to attract shooters from Nice and " Monte." When 

 the hour arrived, only three others besides my brother-in- 

 law, Ronald Barlow, and myself, assembled to " carry on." 

 One was a tall, handsome and aristocratic Frenchman, the 

 beau-ideal of the ancient regime; the others being his two sons, 

 mere striplings then, but each possessing a marked personality 

 of his own. 



And who think you were the units of this trio ? No others 

 than Le Comte de Paris, the Due d' Orleans and Prince Henri 

 of the Bourbon ilk. 



Ronald and I were formally introduced and most cour- 

 teously met. A handicap was drawn up, and the " royalties " 

 given every chance. I was " back marker " ; but Ronald won 

 the little event, standing at twenty-four metres, on the same 

 mark as the Duke of Orleans. 



Then we had a series of friendly matches, which resulted in 

 honours being almost equally divided. 



A propos royal blood, my pigeon-shooting ventures brought 

 me into contact with several of the elect. I remember a visit 

 paid to " Monte " by the late King Nicholas of Montenegro, 

 a cheery and urbane soul, with whom I had many interesting 

 chats, for he took great interest in the Tir aux pigeons 

 amenities. He had not, at that time, attained the kingly 

 rank, which was subsequently conferred upon him. He invited 

 me to visit him at Cettinje, but I did not avail myself of his 

 gracious offer of hospitality, though one who did so was that 

 priceless prince of wit and humour, the late W. S. Gilbert, 

 who gave me a most illuminating description of his visit 

 to the comic-opera state of Montenegro. Poor, gallant 



10* 



