I have heard it, most coxcomicalfy, called 

 poaching, by some ignorant advocates of the 

 flourishing train of your stabbing, backing, 

 brainless, mechanical boobies ; from whom (for 

 how is it possible ?) you are not to expect any ori- 

 ginality of charm : they have only been cut out 

 to a pattern ; who, in the course of their unmean- 

 ing caperings are ever more on the look-out for 

 a point than for the game; and before whom, 

 if a bird crawls away to die, a few yards out 

 of the direction of its fall, and you leave it but 

 a few minutes to cool, it is all over ; you must 

 never expect to see it more. Still less must 

 you expect this, if it should fall to a casual 

 shot : they come sweeping in perhaps ; but 

 being permitted to dawdle about, or worse, 

 while you are charging, all their solicitude is 

 over : in vain you would put them upon a busy 

 close inquiry after the dead bird; they do not 

 understand a word of what you mean ; it is a 

 language they have never been taught: but, 

 with your first step of advance from reloading, 

 away they go off at score: perhaps, too, by a 

 thundering exertion of lungs, to the infinite 

 composure of some companions of the deceased, 

 probably not far distant, are brought back to 

 stare; and again, with your first motion, to rattle 

 off upon fresh beat, and leave you, storming 

 with vexation, to nose it out as well as you can 



