TOOLS AND IMPLEMENTS. 9 



can compare with a drop of gin for the locks — the spirit 

 never congeals in cold weather, and the hammer comes 

 up with a clear, sharp snick. He has two or three small 

 screwdrivers and gunsmith's implements to take the locks 

 to pieces ; for gentlemen are sometimes careless and throw 

 their guns down on the wet grass, and if a single drop of 

 water should by chance penetrate under the plate it will 

 play mischief with the works if the first speck of rust be 

 not forthwith removed. 



His dog- whistle hangs at his buttonhole. His pocket- 

 knife is a basket of tools in itself, most probably a present 

 from some youthful sportsman who was placed under his 

 care to learn how to handle a gun. The corkscrew it 

 contains has seen much service at luncheon-time, when 

 under a sturdy oak, or in a sheltered nook of the lane, 

 where the hawthorn hedge and the fern broke the force of 

 the wind, a merry shooting- party sat down to a w6ll- 

 packed hamper and wanted some one to draw the corks. 

 Not but what the back of the larger blade has not artistic- 

 ally tapped off the neck of many a bottle, hitting it gently 

 upwards against the rim. Nor must his keys be forgotten. 

 The paths through the preserves, where they debouch on 

 a public lane or road, are closed with high-sparred wicket 

 gates, well pitched to stand the weather, and carefully 

 locked, and of course he has a key. His watch, made on 

 purpose for those who walk by night, tells him the time 

 in the densest darkness of the woods. On pressing a 



