who frequent regions south of the metropolis
with the pity he bestows upon a wretch weak
enough to buy a novel or admire the scenery out
of the carriage window.

As to the talk of men in general, in this
country, it is almost confined to one subject, or
rather one range of subjects, on which, if a
man be ignorant, woe to him! If it should
happen that owing to some peculiarity in his
bringing up, or in the circumstances connected
with his early life, an English gentleman has
reached years of discretion without having
mastered all the mysteries connected with guns,
dogs, horses, and fishing-rods, I would seriously
counsel him to adopt straightway one of two
courses. I would recommend him either to
convey himself and his effects with all speed across
the British Channel with the purpose of settling
in some foreign land; or else, if he hold strongly
to his native country, and have a sufficient fund
of energy to carry him through, I would advise
him to devote a season to retirement and Scotland,
there to place himself under professional hands,
and endeavour by earnest study to supply the
deficiencies of his neglected education. There is
no place in this country for men who are different
from their fellows. It is fortunate that our
national idea of a man's education is so good and
sensible an one as it is, for we will admit of no
deviation from it. These things are indispensable:
you must have been to a public school,
after that, unless a military career was to be
yours, you must have gone to college. In the
holidays you must have jumped upon the back of
every unbroken horse that came in your way,
and sustained all sorts of tumbles and other
accidents. All through your boyhood and youth
you must have been sworn friends with the game-
keeper, and perhaps the rat-catcher as well.
You must have got rid—- if you ever had such a
weakness—- of all feeling of pity for the sufferings
of the brute creation, and be able to superintend
without a particle of compunction the torturing
of worms, weasels, fishes, hares and foxes, and
the feathered creation generally. Later in your
career you must have mastered rowing, billiard-
playing, and the colouring of short pipes. Thus
educated, you are fit for general society, and
general society will be glad to receive you.
Yes. "SPORT" is the subject in which it
behoves a man to be up. If that wise man who
said that we were a nation of shopkeepers, had
known a little more of our social life, I think he
would have altered one word in his mot, and
called us a nation of game-keepers.

The talk of the day, among men generally, is
about sport, and things belonging to sport:
"Who's got that moor of Lord Blackcock's this
year?" " Why, of all the fellows in the world,
that man, what's his name, near-sighted fellow,
Molecutter." " Molecutter! Why, he can't shoot
a bit. Give you my word, I went out with him,
for a whole season, and-—- " " I say, Splint,
what's become of that mare of yours? Last time
I saw you, you were talking of selling her."  "Oh,
I got rid of her, or at least my groom did, rather
well." "Nice mare." "Well, you know, she
was, and she wasn't. Sometimes, you know,
she was very well, and when she was in the
humour, and that sort of thing, it was all very
comfortable; but I've known that mare, when she
was in the tantrums, you know, and that sort of
thing, I've known her kick straight out for ten
minutes on end, so that no fellow on earth could
sit her." " How did you get rid of her?" "Oh,
my man, you know, he's a sort of shrewd, don't
you see, fellow, and he got hold of some City
fellow, I fancy—- timid fellow, too, mind ye, but
the mare was in a good humour, and-—-"
" Twenty-two pounds four ounces, and a fish in
better condition you never clapped eyes on."
"Well, it may be my fancy, but I never care for
the salmon in that river, neither for sport when
you're catching them, nor yet for flavour as to
eating. The Dee, you know, is the river for
me." "Ah! I can't agree with you there.
The Dee is a good river, and it's more
particularly a good grilse and trout river; but
it's not my idea of a salmon river. Now, I'll
tell you: I was over in the early part of last
season in Ireland, and of course I had a good
deal of fishing, well-—- " " So Molecutter says,
you know, coming poking up in his blind way,
and holding the bird about a quarter of an inch
from his nose, ' My bird, I think?' ' Well, you
know,' I said, ' I did think that / shot it.' ' Oh
no,' says Molecutter, with a sort of polite grin,
' I assure you I picked him out especially.' You
can't dispute such a thing, you know, with a man
on his own moor, so of course I let him have it
that it was so; but I tell you solemnly, it's my
firm belief that that man has never hit a bird in
his life, and what's more, that he never will; yet
he's the man who is always talking about the
thing, and no moor is good enough for him."——
"Well, I wanted to get on one horse out of that
stable for the Cesarewitch, but somehow or other
no distinct bet was made about it. In my own
mind, I believe the older horse will show them
the trick yet." " Not a bit of it; and I'd
recommend you strongly to back the other. I
have an informant who's on the spot, and he tells
me, beyond a doubt, that there's been some
queer work going on in that stable, and that he
thinks the best way is to give the whole concern
a wide berth. Why, the very last time that-—- "
Yes, as you say, that kennel-lameness is a
deuce of a thing, and when once it appears
you're a lucky man if you get rid of it. That's
one of the provoking things, you know, about
that sort of shooting. A fellow takes the place,
you know, without seeing it; is told that it's all
right, and that sort of thing, and then he goes
down with dogs that he's paid no end of money
for, and well-trained dogs too, and then you find
a kennel not fit to put a pauper in. It's too bad.
There you are with your dogs laid up in a
regular-—- " " Well, now you mention it, I have
bserved that a breech-loader does not always
seem to hit so hard as the old muzzle-loader. I'll