September 5, 19 14 
L A N D AND W A T E R 
KEEPING A GOOD LINE 
BIG GUNS AND SMALL 
By GUY C. POLLOCK 
IT is impossible, of course, to say or even to tliink how 
the various sporting estates and shoots will fare in 
England through tlie time of the great war. They 
must fare better than the sporting districts of France, 
Belgium, and Germany, than the plains of Hungary, 
where Servians or Cossacks may do any killing of the swarms 
of partridges which, in normal years, are so largely imported 
to this country, both dead for food and alive, or as eggs for 
stocking purposes. Among the many legends of Wellington, 
who is now supposed to have omitted to say that the battle 
of Waterloo — are we to know it as the " first " battle of 
Waterloo ? — was won on the playing fields of Eton, one to 
be cherished is that he galloped his staff into what was nearly 
a successful ambush in the enthusiasm of an impromptu run 
after a chance fox. The soldier on active service, who takes 
a less tra;;'" view of the business of war than those must take 
who are left at home to admire or to mourn him, will not 
neglect any opportunities of sport that may come his way. 
But modern war may very much restrict such opportunities. 
Meanwhile our game birds at home are not in deadly 
peril. A raid or raids on our coasts may come. Not one of 
us imagines that the raiders will get very far, or do very 
deadly damage. But I write under the shadow of an 
impending clash of colossal armies in Belgium, and the issue 
cannot be predicted. The battle of Mukden, previously the 
largest battle in history, raged for weeks, and was not 
conclusive in the end. Moreover, so many of the soothsayers 
who prophesied the great war were very much out in their 
prophecies that a layman must hesitate to adopt their mantle. 
We have had the story of Anglo-German conflict told very 
often. Sometimes, as the story went, we have been absurdly 
triumphant ; sometimes we have been utterly smashed ; 
generally we have been vanquished first and victorious in the 
" happy ending " which was supposed to make the prophecy 
edible. Very few of the prophets have foretold or even 
suggested, so far as England and the Empire were concerned, 
the strange and ennobling spirit in which all the subjects of the 
British crown are rising to their opportunity of life or 
death. 
It is, then, bad work to prophesy. Yet the mundane 
busir-.css of sport, like those of coal mining and bootmaking, 
and the manufacture of linens, lace, or hardware must depend 
enormously for its course in the near future on the issue of 
this Titanic struggle in Belgium, which must dictate for a 
time the course of the campaign. If the event goes well for 
the Allied arms, it is reasonable to b(lie\e that a tremendous 
impulse will be given towards that resumption of our normal 
activities which would help so much to keep us all going, and 
to strengthen the hands of ("io\-ernnient and people in waging 
the greatest of all wars. Tuxury and sheer extravagance are, 
let us hope, destroyed in this country for many years to come. 
But is it ill for us all to live continually at concert pitch. The 
strain on nerves must sap the vital energy which the nation 
now needs more than e\-er before. When or if we have reason 
to believe that the tide of war is with us, the manufacturer 
will seek new outlets for trade, and recreations will be resumed 
in quiet and reasonable ways. Even the silent grouse paths 
may again be occupied here and there, and the partridges 
will be shot. 
There are good reasons why one has not been to have 
that look round the partridge ground which usually makes 
such an e.vhilarating excursion at this time of year — {a) one 
has no heart for such things ; (h) there is no train service ; 
(c) one has other and more important duties. But it is 
impossible not to believe that this will be an excellent year 
for partridges, and this, I take it, is of good augury, like the 
abundant crops. But I confess that I should like to know 
how one may find the fields if it is possible to go down and 
shoot some partridges in September. Three days before 
war was declared I watched the reaping machine make short 
work of the farmer's wheat. But after war was declared ? 
How many horses were left on the farm ? How many of 
the horses I saw are now being trained to military uses ? 
And if many of the horses are gone, how has the harvest 
progressed ? We may indeed feel in Septembqj; that the 
stooks are still in the field, and that some crops are still 
standing uncut. We may be able to lend a hand as amateur 
farm labourers as a variant to sport. We may, too, find 
unexpected acres of plough where pasture of doubtful value 
has been prepared for the aftermath of war. 
One change is sure — unless, indeed, this country were 
then called to meet and destroy alien enemies from overseas. 
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