THE GUN AT HOME AND ABROAD 
cold, wet and disappointment, and as used to knocks, bumps, jars and 
boatwork generally, as a deep-sea fisherman, will probably find a few 
days at a time suffice. 
“ The risks and hardships, the frequent failures and disappointments 
— all these adverse circumstances one can tell. The joys of success, the 
fascination of a suspense prolonged over pregnant minutes worth months 
of humdrum life — these are things that cannot be told in terms. Until 
realized in actual practice, the fowler’s triumph will never be fully appre- 
ciated. A similar remark may be applied to other things; but to none, 
within my experience, in similar degree.” 
An amusing illustration of the divergence of tastes in this regard is 
afforded by the writings of ” The Old Shekary ” (the late Major H. A. 
Leveson), one of the toughest and hardest -bitten sportsmen that ever 
lived ; but who, nevertheless, condemned wildfowling by reason of its 
‘‘ uncertainties, hardships and exposure.” Although throughout his life 
he had sought every kind of adventure and danger, yet of punt- 
gunning he writes : ” He must be an enthusiast indeed who 
systematically pursues wildfowl by night as a diversion, since there is 
no sport so precarious or more calculated to test the endurance, the 
patience, and the constitution.” Even when the aspiring fowler was (as 
‘‘ The Old Shekary ” recommends) ‘‘ ensconced in a large punt provided 
with air-chambers to avoid the risk of sinking, with plenty of water- 
proof rugs, an inflatable air-bed, and a good-sized keg of eau-de-vie ” (!) 
— and I know not what besides, our author concluded that jeu ne vaut 
pas la chandelley"" and apostrophizes his experience afloat in a final 
sentence : I do not like to make a toil of a pleasure, and could not again 
be tempted to face a nor’-wester aboard a gunning-punt on a dirty cold 
winter’s night, even were I sure of bagging a ton weight of wild ducks ; 
mais chacun d son gout.^' 
The entire change of scene and surroundings form, in my view, no 
mean asset. Wildfowling, in a general way, follows after game -shooting. 
After months spent on the wild moorland — always beautiful, but somewhat 
bleak and inhospitable by November — and after almost a satiety of drip- 
ping woods and cleughs, then a sort of rapture surges in the fowler’s 
breast when he finds himself once more by the blue salt sea and all it 
imports. Yesterday’s leagues of rolling brown heather are exchanged 
to-day for vast prospect over level oozes and savannas dotted with half- 
tide banks gorgeous in many-hued marine plant-life; here the marsh- 
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