SPOET AND SPORTSMEN ON THE FRENCH COAST. 275 



work. What has happened to these birds I do 

 not know, but that they are a miserable and 

 feeble race, if they have not been manipulated 

 for the sake of giving the noble sportsmen a 

 better chance, is unmistakable. 



Petitsinge's turn is coming. Before him an 

 Englishman steps out on to the planked path. 

 He stands upright ; the string is pulled, the 

 trap flies open, the bird rises a few feet and falls 

 within two yards of his late prison. Now comes 

 Petitsinge. Observe his proceedings. He holds 

 his gun in both hands and creeps cautiously 

 from the tent, as though he were stalking wild 

 animals. He stretches his little legs apart, one 

 behind the other ; ducks three or four times, 

 as if about to jump in the air ; sways his body 

 backwards and forwards ; raises his gun to his 

 shoulder and lowers it again ; tries a new 

 position, and goes through a new set of tricks. 

 Being able to do this sort of thing with an 

 audience looking on is to Petitsinge the great 

 charm of the Tir aux Pigeons ; and here we 

 arrive at the true reason why Frenchmen so 

 rarely excel in any sport : they will not think 

 about what they are doing so much as about 

 how they look while they do it. The trap falls 

 to pieces, another pigeon is released. Bang 

 goes the first barrel, and bang goes the second, 



