SHOOTING THE PHEASANT 



Bond Street, where the skilled artisan at the bench 

 perfects the poHshed barrel, or files to the nicety of a 

 thousandth part of an inch the grooves and slots of 

 the cunning breech ; where hard by, in other crowded 

 rooms, cartridges by the million are stowed in boxes 

 by the thousand, while outside carmen and porters 

 struggle under their weight to load and unload vans — 

 the railway vans, that they may reach the country in 

 good time. See the tall shot towers by the Thames, 

 where the molten lead ceaselessly drops at varying 

 heights into the water, and the stout canvas bags, 

 marked from ' Dust ' to S.S.G., are for ever being sewn 

 up, stored, and sent away. 



Think of the great powder mills, where 'black' 

 and ' diamond grain,' Schultze, E.G., and many other 

 nitro-compounds are ever employing the heavy hand 

 of labour and the brains of science and chemistry ; of 

 the huge factories of Eley, with their many thousand 

 pounds' worth of unrivalled machinery and plant; 

 where millions upon millions of green and blue, gas- 

 tight and brass cartridges are turned out faultless 

 every year, and where wages and employment never 

 fail. Again, think of the packing-case makers, paper- 

 makers and workers in leather, canvas, waterproof 

 and m-etals, who toil in the East-end of London or the 

 factories of many another busy town. Think of the 



