We carefully work down the length of the hedge, putting up singles and doubles. — Page 524. 
think, is the choice of your playmate. 
How many lifelong friendships have 
started over guns or the talk of shooting! 
How many congenial brothers, from all 
over the world, are discovered by mem- 
bers of the freemasonry of sport! Wher- 
ever found, in the smoking-rooms of clubs, 
steamers, or sleeping-cars, and whatever 
their station of life — for the true democ- 
racy of outdoors is too robust for artificial 
distinctions — they nearly always turn out 
to be real people, likable, reliable fellows, 
the sort instinctively trusted by women, 
adored by children, and abjectly wor- 
shipped by dogs. Their faults may some- 
times be those of conviviality or reckless- 
ness, but of cupidity or smallness rarely. 
My friend Billy and I first met in a 
cloud of powder smoke. For there were 
clouds in those days: our youthful can- 
nonading at the traps began before smoke- 
less powder came into general use. And 
since he first invited me, in Professor 
Woodrow Wilson’s class-room, to shoot 
quail and ducks with him on a Thanks- 
giving holiday, two generations of dogs 
have matured from yapping puppyhood, 
retired to the dignified leisure of the fire- 
side, and, alas! have slipped away to the 
happy hunting-ground. Gawky young 
saplings have grown into self-centred 
trees with self-respecting branches. Cer- 
tain well-remembered scenes of hot fusil- 
lades in the past have been changed by 
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