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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, December 10, 1892 By: Various |
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VOL. 103 December 10, 1892.
CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS. The Smoking Room ( continued ). I MAY assume, that after the terrible example given in my last chapter,
you have firmly made up your mind never on any account to take service
in the great army of bores. But this determination is not all that is
necessary. A man must constantly keep a strict guard on himself, lest he
should unconsciously deviate even for a few minutes into the regions of
boredom. Whatever you do, let nothing tempt you to relate more than once
any grievance you may have. Nothing of course is more poisonous to the
aggrieved one than to stifle his grievance absolutely. Once, and once
only, he may produce it to his friends. I shall be blamed, perhaps, for
making even this slight concession. Please be careful, therefore, not to
abuse it. Is there in the whole world a more ridiculous sight than a
strong, healthy, well fed sportsman who wearies his companions one after
another with the depressing recital of his ill luck, or of the dastardly
behaviour of the head keeper in not stopping the whole party for half an
hour to search for an imaginary bird, which is supposed to have fallen
stone dead somewhere or other; or of the iniquities of the man from whom
he bought his cartridges in not loading them with the right charge; or
any of the hundred inconveniences and injuries to which sportsmen are
liable. All these things may be as he says they are. He may be the most
unfortunate, the most unjustly treated of mankind. But why insist upon
it? Why check the current of sympathy by the dam of constant repetition?
And, after all, how trivial and absurd the whole thing is! Even a man
whose career has been ruined by malicious persecution will be avoided
like a pest if it is known that he dins the account of his wrongs into
everyone's ears. How, then, shall the sufferer by the petty injuries of
ordinary sport be listened to with patience? Of all bores, the
grievancemonger is the fiercest and worst. Lay this great truth by in
your memory, and be mindful of it in more important matters than sport
when the occasion arises. [Illustration] I have been asked to say, whether a man may abuse his gun? I reply
emphatically, no. A gun is not a mere ordinary machine. Its beautiful
arrangement of locks, and springs, and catches, and bolts, and pins, and
screws, its unaccountable perversities, its occasional fits of
sulkiness, its lovely brown complexion, and its capacity both for
kicking and for smoking, all prove that a gun is in reality a sentient
being of a very high order of intelligence. You may be quite certain
that if you abuse your gun, even when you may imagine it to be far out
of earshot, comfortably cleaned and put to roost on its rack, your gun
will resent it. Why are most sportsmen so silent, so distraits at
breakfast? Why do they dally with a scrap of fish, and linger over the
consumption of a small kidney, and drink great draughts of tea to
restore their equilibrium? If you ask them, they will tell you that it's
because they're "just a bit chippy," owing to sitting up late, or
smoking too much, or forgetting to drink a whiskey and soda before they
went to bed. I know better. It is because they incautiously spoke evil
of their guns, and their guns retaliated by haunting their sleep. I
know guns have this power of projecting horrible emanations of
themselves into the slumbers of sportsmen who have not treated them as
they deserved. I have suffered from it myself. It was only last week
that, having said something derogatory to the dignity of my second gun,
I woke with a start at two o'clock in the morning, and found its wraith
going through the most horrible antics in a patch of moonlight on my
bed room floor. I shot with that gun on the following day, and missed
nearly everything I shot at. Could there be a more convincing proof?
Take my advice, therefore, and abstain from abusing your gun. Now your typical smoking room conversation ought always to include the
following subjects: (1) The wrong headed, unpopular man, whom every
district possesses, and who is always at loggerheads with somebody; (2)
"The best shot in England," who is to be found in every country side,
and in whose achievements all the sportsmen of his particular district
take a patriotic pride; (3) the folly and wickedness of those who talk
or write ignorantly against any kind of sport; (4) the deficiency of
hares due to the rascally provisions of the Hares and Rabbits Act; (5) a
few reminiscences, slightly glorified, of the particular day's sport;
and (6) a prolonged argument on the relative merits of the old plan of
shooting birds over dogs, and the modern methods of walking them up or
driving... Continue reading book >>
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