The Farmer loves his Gun. 135 
folk, though -not in the least constrained to do so, 
‘still leave the first pick of the shooting to some neigh- 
bouring landowner between whose family and their 
own friendly relations have existed for generations, 
‘It is true that the practice becomes rarer yearly as 
the old style of men die out and the spirit of com- 
merce is imported into rural life: the rising race pre- 
ferring to make money of their shooting, by letting it, 
instead of cultivating social ties. 
At Wick, however, they keep up the ancient 
custom, and the neighbouring squire takes the pick 
of the wing-game. They lose nothing for their larder 
through this arrangement—receiving presents of 
partridges and pheasants far exceeding in number 
what could possibly be killed upon the farm itself; 
while later in the year the boundaries are relaxed on 
‘the other side, and the farmer kills his rabbit pretty 
much where he likes, in moderation. 
He is seldom seen without a gun on his shouldér 
from November till towards the end of January. No 
:matter whether he strolls to the arable field, or down 
the meadows, or across the footpath to a neighbour’s 
house, the inevitable double-barrel accompanies him. 
To those who live much out of doors a gun is a 
natural and almost a necessary companion, whether 
there be much or little to shoot ; and in this desultory 
way, without much method or set sport, he and his 
‘friends, often meeting and joining forces, find sufficient 
ground game and wild-fowl to give them plenty of 
