64 How I Became a Sportsman. 



for him, and he somehow could not help 

 pulling his trigger, when our guns went off, 

 from sheer nervousness. 



A gentleman I once shot with was just of 

 the other sort; he could not kill anything 

 when he was by himself. He was an agent 

 over a very large estate, the proprietor of 

 which lived abroad, and he had the entire 

 shooting. As I was staying in his neigh- 

 bourhood with a friend, whom he asked over 

 to kill a few birds (the invitation including 

 myself), as he had, he said, so very little time 

 he could not go out much himself; there 

 being plenty of birds, and sportsmen generally 

 like breaking fresh ground, we went, although 

 we left excellent shooting of our own. We 

 found him dawdling over a late breakfast, and 

 with his correspondence by his side ; against 

 the fire was his gun, put to air, I suppose. I 

 took it up to look at it, 



"Be careful," said he, with an alarmed 

 expression ; " those are the finest locks in the 

 world. I had them taken out of a Joe 

 Manton gun and fitted to this one ; I am 

 very particular about my guns." 



I at once concluded he was a crack shot, 



