150 How I Became a Sportsmax. 



hated pockets in the tails of my shooting-coats 

 (breast pockets for carrying the powder, and 

 shot-belts, could not be dispensed with), and 

 would rather have abandoned the game where 

 it fell than have it dangling about my person. 

 Apart from the uncomfortableness of it, it 

 spoils the game ; when put in hot, wet, or 

 bloody they do not keep half so long, or look 

 so presentable to your friends. I think it is 

 Colonel Hawker, in his excellent work on wild- 

 fowling, gives directions for shooting-coat 

 pockets being lined with oil silk to prevent the 

 blood of the hares and birds from soiling your 

 breeches (some people think this a word hardly 

 to be mentioned, but I like to call a spade a 

 spade). Fancy a gentleman lugging about a 

 brace of great beastly, bleeding hares in his 

 shooting-jacket pockets, with half-a-dozen brace 

 of birds to balance them ! 



Well, I suppose that some people used to do 

 it, but I never could ; in fact, I always hated 

 to be weighted in any way, it would be sure 

 to spoil anything like brilliant shooting. The 

 same keen old sportsman also gives some won- 

 derful receipts for dressing calico with boiled 

 oil, and other abominations, to make waterproof 



