Punch (103.1892)

November 5, 1892.] PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHARIVARI 205

CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOE YOUNG SHOOTERS.

Lunch {continued).—Perhaps the best piece of advice that I can
give you, my young friend, is that—for conversational purposes—
you should make a careful study of the natures and temperaments
of your companions. Watch their little peculiarities, both of manner
and of snooting ; pick up what you can about their careers in sport
and in the general world, and use the knowledge so acquired with
tact and discretion when you are talking to them. For instance, if
one of the party is a celebrated
shot, who has done some asto-
nishing record at driven grouse,
you may, after the necessary
preliminaries, ask him to be
good enough to tell you what
was the precise number of birds
he shot on that occasion. Tell
him, if you like, that the ques-
tion arose the other day during
a discussion on the three finest
game-shots of the world. If
you happen to know that he
shot eighteen hundred birds,
you can say that most people
fixed the figure at fifteen hun-
dred. He will then say,—"Ah,
I know most people seem to have
got that notion—I don't know
why. As a matter of fact, I
managed to get eighteen hundred
and two, and they picked up
twenty-two on . the following
morning." Your obvious re-
mark is, "By Jove!" (with a
strong emphasis on the "by")
" what magnificent shooting!"
After that, the thing runs along
of its own accord. "With a bad
shot your method is, of course,
quite different. Tor example :—

Young Shot. I must say I
like the old style of walking up
your birds better than driving,
especially in a country like this.
I never saw such difficult birds
as we had this morning. You
seemed to have the worst of the
luck everywhere.

Bad Shot. Yes—they didn't
come my way much. But I
don't get much practice at this
kind of thing—and a man 's no
good without practice.

Y. S. That was a deuced long
shot, all the same, that you
polished off in the last drive.
When I saw him coming at
about a hundred miles an hour,
I thanked my stars he wasn't
my bird. What a thump he
fell!

B. S. Oh, he was a fairly easy
shot, though a bit far off. I
daresay I should do well enough
if I only got more shooting.
I'm not shooting with my own
gun, though. It's one of my
brother's, and it's rather short
in the stock for me.

That starts you comfortably
with the Bad Shot. You soothe
his rufiied vanity, and give him
a better appetite for lunch.

Now, besides the Good Shot,
and the Bad Shot — the two
extremes, as it were, of the

-" ANIMIS CCELESTIBUS IR/E!"

A MODERN SCIENTIFIC DISCUSSION.

Miss Fanny {a gentle and most veracious Child). "Yah ! yott cruel
Coward ! You and your Friends skinned a Live Frog !"

Master Victor (cm industrious but very touchy little Boy). "You're a
Liar! The Frog was Dead, and you know it!"

Miss Fanny. " Boohoo ! Whether it was Dead or not, you've
got no right to call names ; 'cos i *m a glrl, and can't funch
your Head! "

Master Victor. "It's just because you're a Girl that 1 can't
Punch yours! You should u.vve thought of that before you

called me a cowakd ! "

line of shooters—you might subdivide your sportsmen further into—
(1) The Jovial Shot. This party is on excellent terms with him-
self and with everybody else. Generally he shoots fairly well, but
there is a rollicking air about him, which disarms criticism, even when

Puffington's place—where we'd been dining. Devilish dark night
it was, and Sandy's as blind as a bat. When we got to the
Devil's Punchbowl I knew there'd be some warm games, 'cos the
horse started off full tilt, and, before you could say knife, over
we went. I pitched, head first, into Dick's stomach, and Sandy
and Bill went bowling down like a right and left of rabbits. Lord,
1 laughed till the tears ran down my face. No bones broken, but
the old Butcher's face got a shade the worst of it with a thorn-
bush on the slope. Cart smashed into matchwood, of course."

(2.) The Dressy Shot. Won-
derful in the boot, stocking, and
gaiter department. Yery taste-
ful, too, in the matter of caps
and ties. May be flattered by
an inquiry as to where he got
his gaiters, and if they are an
idea of his own. Sometimes
bursts out into a belt covered
with silver clasps. Fancy waist-
coats a speciality. His smoking-
suit, in the evening, is a dream
of gorgeous rainbows. Is some-
times a very fair shot. Gene-
rally wears gloves, and a fair
moustache.

(3.) The Bored Shot. A good
sportsman, who says he doesn't
care about sport. Often has
literary tastes. Has views of
his own, and is, consequently,
looked upon as a rather dan-
gerous idealist by honest country
gentleme>, who confine their
reading to an occasional peep
at the Times, and an intimate
quoting acquaintance with the
novels of Mr. Surtees. Often
shocks his companions by telling
them he really doesn't care much
about killing things, and would
just as soon let them off. How-
ever, he shows a perfectly proper
anger if he misses frequently.
Is not unlikely to be an autho-
rity on sheep and oxen, and may,
perhaps, be accepted as the
Conservative Candidate for his
County division, dumb but in-
dignant County magnates find-
ing that he expresses their views
better than they can do it
themselves. Don't talk to him
about sport. Try him with
books, interesting articles in the
Magazines, and so forth.

(4.) The Soldier Shot. This
kind is generally a Captain,
dresses well, but not gaudily,
and smokes big cigars. There
seems to be a general idea that
a man who can teach privates to
shoot targets must be able to
shoot game himself. Yet the
Soldier Shot misses birds quite
beautifully. He will have often
shot big game in India with an
accuracy that increases in pro-
portion to the number of miles
that separate him \ from the
scene of his exploits. After all,
the ability to "brown" a herd
of elephants dot s not guarantee
rights and lefts at partridges.
Apt to declaim tersely and
forcibly about the hardships of
a military career

(5.) The Average Shot. Talk to him about average matters, unless
you near he is a celebrity in some other branch of sport. In that
case, get details from him of his last Alpine climb, or his latest run
to hounds, or ask his views on racing matters. Most average shots

he shoots badly. He knows everybody, and talks of most people go racing, and think they understand all about it.
by nick-names. His sporting anecdotes may be counted upon for, ; I say nothing- here about the Dangerous Shot, because it is never
at any rate, a succcs (Pestime. "I never laughed so much in my \ right to get within talking distance of him. In fact, he ought not
life," he begins, "as I did last Tuesday. There were four of us— : to be talked to at all. I am npt sure he ought to be allowed to live
Old Sandy, Butcher Bill, Dick Whoktlebury, and myself. Still, his exploits furnish material for many an animated conver-
Sandy was driving us back from Dillwater Hall—you know, old sation amongst the survivors.

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