244 SHOOTING THE PARTRIDGE 
cannot see them, as many of us often have seen, 
ordered off, after an illiberal lunch of bread and 
cheese and flat small beer, to stand in their places 
under a storm of cold rain or sleet, perhaps, thoroughly 
chilled and soaked until such time as the shooters, 
having leisurely finished their luxurious hot luncheon 
under a tent, shall be pleased to take their places— 
one cannot see this, I say, without feeling that such 
management is as impolitic as it is unkind. 
A very little conversation with or encouragement 
to the beaters on each side of you will prove how 
readily they appreciate being differently treated, and 
how easy it is to rouse a little keenness in them 
for the sport in hand. I remember being amply 
rewarded on one occasion in Yorkshire for showing 
some consideration for the men temporarily under 
my charge, by an outburst of gratitude which called 
forth a delightfully quaint and original expression. 
It was a piping hot day, and the men, who had only 
to tramp while I enjoyed the pleasure of shooting 
partridges, were quite done up. I ordered a halt, and 
sent a trap back to the house for a can of beer, which, 
after a grateful rest in the shade of a huge tree, I was 
glad enough to share with them. One big burly chap, 
who had suffered much from the heat, and who spoke 
his Yorkshire very broad, exclaimed, after in his turn 
