DOI Heft:
November 26, 1892
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17694#0250
November 26, 1892.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
245
CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS. i^^S? Tl^Tlr^^J^
The Smoking-Room.
The subject of the Smoking-room would seem to be intimately and
necessarily connected with the subject of smoke, which was dealt
with in our last Chapter. A very good friend of mine, Captain
Shabrack of the 55th (Queen Elizabeth's Own) Hussars, was pood
enough to favour me with his views the other day. I met the gallant
the stream of modified untruthfulness, of which nobody ought to
know better than Flickers the rapids, and shallows, and rocks on
which the mariner's bark is apt to go to wreck. What is there in
the pursuit of sport, I ask myself, that brings on this strange ten-
dency to exaggeration ? How few escape it. The excellent, the
prosaic Dubson, that broad-shouldered, whiskered, and eminently
oilicer, who is, as all the world knows, one of the safest and best J snub-nosed Nimrod, he too, gives way occasionally. Flickers's,
shots of the day, in Pall Mall. He had just stepped out of his Club 11 own, is an extreme case. He has indulged himself in fibs to such
the luxurious and splendid Tatterdemalion, or, as it is familiarly an extent, that fibs are now as necessary to him as drams to the
called, "the Tat"—where, to use his own graphic language, he had
been " killing the worm with a nip of Scotch '
" Farly Scotch wood-
cock, I suppose," says T,
sportively alluding to the
proverb.
"Scotch woodcock be
blowed," says the Captain,
who, it must be confessed,
does not include an appre-
ciation of delicate humour
amongst his numerous
merits ; " Scotch, real
Scotch, a noggin of it, my
boy, with soda in a long
glass; glug, glug, down it
goes, hissin' over the hot
coppers. You < know the
trick, my son, it's no use
pretendin' you don't"—
and thereupon the high-
spirited warrior dug me
good-humouredly in the
ribs, and winked at me
with an eye which, if the
truth musti be told, was
bloodshot to the very verge
of ferocity.
"Talkin' of woodcock,"
he continued — we were
now walking along Pall
Mall together—" they tell
me you 're writin' some gas
or other about shootin'.
"Well, if you want a tip
from me, just you let into
the smokin' room shots a
bit; you know the sort I
mean, fellows who are
reg'lar devils at killin'
birds when they havtn't
got a gun in their hands.
Why, there's that little
son of a corn-crake. Flic-
kers—when once he gets
talkin' in a smokin' room
nothing can hold him.
He'd talk the hind leg off
a donkey. I know he jolly
nearly laid me out the last
time I met him with all
his talk-No, you don't,"
continued the Captain,
imagining, perhaps, that I
was going to rally him on
his implied connection of
himself with the three-
legged animal he had
mentioned, "no you don't
THAT IT SHOULD COME TO THIS!
Boy. "Second-Class, Sir?" Captain. " I nevah travel Second-Class !
Boy. "This way Third, Sir!"
drunkard. But Dcisson the respectable, Dubson the dull, Dubson
the unromantic—why does the gadfly sting him too, and impel him
now and then to wonderful
antics. For was it not
Dubson who told me, only
a week ago, that he had
shot three partridges stone
dead with one shot, and in
measuring the distance,
had found it to be 100
yards less two inches Y
Candidly, I do not be-
lieve him; but naturally
enough I was not going to
be outdone, and I promptly
returned on him with my
well-known anecdote about
the shot which ricocheted
from a driven bird in front
of me and pierced my
host's youngest brother—a
plump, short-coated Eton
boy, who was for some
reason standing with his
back to me ten yards in
my rear—ia a part of his
person sacred as a rule
plago so Orbilio, The
shrieks of the stricken
youth, I told Dubson, still
sounded horribly in my
ears. It took the country
doctor an hour to extract
the pellets—an operation
which the boy endured
with great fortitude,
merely observing that he
hoped his rowing would
not be spoiled for good, as
he should bar awfully
having to turn himself
into a dry-bob. This
story, with all its harrow-
ing details, did I duly
hammer into the open-
mouthed Dubson, who
merely remarked that "it
was a rum go, but you can
never tell where a ricochet
will go," and was begin-
ning upon me with a brand-
new ricochet anecdote of
his own, when I hurriedly
departed.
Wherefore, my gay
young shooters, you "who
week by week suck wis-
dom and conversational
ability from these columns,
it wouldn't be funny; and besides, I'm not donkey enough to ! it is borne in upon me that for your benefit I must treat of the
stand much of that ass Flickers. So just you pitch into him, and
the rest of 'em, my bonny boy, next time you put pen to paper." At
this moment my cheerful friend observed a hansom that took his
fancy. "Gad!" he said, " I never can resist one of those india-
Smoking-room in its connection with shooting-parties. Thus, per-
haps, you may learn not so much what you ought to sayas what
you ought not to say, and your discretion shall be the admiration of
a whole countrv-side. "The Smoking-room: with which is incor-
rubber tires. Ta, ta, old cock—keep your pecker up. Never forget porated ' Anecdotes.' " What a rollicking, cheerful, after-dinner
your goloshes when it rains, and always wear flannel next your ' sound there is about it. Shabrack might say it was like the title
skin," and, with that, he sprang into his hansom, ordered the cab- I of a cheap weekly, which as a matter of fact, it does resemble. But
man to drive him round the town as long as a florin would last, and
was gone.
Had the Captain only stayed with me a little longer, I should
have thanked him for his hint, which set me thinking. I know
Flickers well. Many a time have I heard that notorious ro-
mancer holding forth on his achievements in sport, and love, and
society. I have caught him tripping, convicted him of imagina-
tion on a score of occasions; dozens of his acquaintances must
what of that ? Next week we will begin upon it in good earnest.
On the Boxing1 Kangaroo.
From Smith and Mitchell to a Kangaroo!!!
The " noble art" is going up ! Whilloo !
Stay, though ! Since pugilist-man seems coward-clown,
Perhaps 'tis the Marsupial coming down !
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
245
CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS. i^^S? Tl^Tlr^^J^
The Smoking-Room.
The subject of the Smoking-room would seem to be intimately and
necessarily connected with the subject of smoke, which was dealt
with in our last Chapter. A very good friend of mine, Captain
Shabrack of the 55th (Queen Elizabeth's Own) Hussars, was pood
enough to favour me with his views the other day. I met the gallant
the stream of modified untruthfulness, of which nobody ought to
know better than Flickers the rapids, and shallows, and rocks on
which the mariner's bark is apt to go to wreck. What is there in
the pursuit of sport, I ask myself, that brings on this strange ten-
dency to exaggeration ? How few escape it. The excellent, the
prosaic Dubson, that broad-shouldered, whiskered, and eminently
oilicer, who is, as all the world knows, one of the safest and best J snub-nosed Nimrod, he too, gives way occasionally. Flickers's,
shots of the day, in Pall Mall. He had just stepped out of his Club 11 own, is an extreme case. He has indulged himself in fibs to such
the luxurious and splendid Tatterdemalion, or, as it is familiarly an extent, that fibs are now as necessary to him as drams to the
called, "the Tat"—where, to use his own graphic language, he had
been " killing the worm with a nip of Scotch '
" Farly Scotch wood-
cock, I suppose," says T,
sportively alluding to the
proverb.
"Scotch woodcock be
blowed," says the Captain,
who, it must be confessed,
does not include an appre-
ciation of delicate humour
amongst his numerous
merits ; " Scotch, real
Scotch, a noggin of it, my
boy, with soda in a long
glass; glug, glug, down it
goes, hissin' over the hot
coppers. You < know the
trick, my son, it's no use
pretendin' you don't"—
and thereupon the high-
spirited warrior dug me
good-humouredly in the
ribs, and winked at me
with an eye which, if the
truth musti be told, was
bloodshot to the very verge
of ferocity.
"Talkin' of woodcock,"
he continued — we were
now walking along Pall
Mall together—" they tell
me you 're writin' some gas
or other about shootin'.
"Well, if you want a tip
from me, just you let into
the smokin' room shots a
bit; you know the sort I
mean, fellows who are
reg'lar devils at killin'
birds when they havtn't
got a gun in their hands.
Why, there's that little
son of a corn-crake. Flic-
kers—when once he gets
talkin' in a smokin' room
nothing can hold him.
He'd talk the hind leg off
a donkey. I know he jolly
nearly laid me out the last
time I met him with all
his talk-No, you don't,"
continued the Captain,
imagining, perhaps, that I
was going to rally him on
his implied connection of
himself with the three-
legged animal he had
mentioned, "no you don't
THAT IT SHOULD COME TO THIS!
Boy. "Second-Class, Sir?" Captain. " I nevah travel Second-Class !
Boy. "This way Third, Sir!"
drunkard. But Dcisson the respectable, Dubson the dull, Dubson
the unromantic—why does the gadfly sting him too, and impel him
now and then to wonderful
antics. For was it not
Dubson who told me, only
a week ago, that he had
shot three partridges stone
dead with one shot, and in
measuring the distance,
had found it to be 100
yards less two inches Y
Candidly, I do not be-
lieve him; but naturally
enough I was not going to
be outdone, and I promptly
returned on him with my
well-known anecdote about
the shot which ricocheted
from a driven bird in front
of me and pierced my
host's youngest brother—a
plump, short-coated Eton
boy, who was for some
reason standing with his
back to me ten yards in
my rear—ia a part of his
person sacred as a rule
plago so Orbilio, The
shrieks of the stricken
youth, I told Dubson, still
sounded horribly in my
ears. It took the country
doctor an hour to extract
the pellets—an operation
which the boy endured
with great fortitude,
merely observing that he
hoped his rowing would
not be spoiled for good, as
he should bar awfully
having to turn himself
into a dry-bob. This
story, with all its harrow-
ing details, did I duly
hammer into the open-
mouthed Dubson, who
merely remarked that "it
was a rum go, but you can
never tell where a ricochet
will go," and was begin-
ning upon me with a brand-
new ricochet anecdote of
his own, when I hurriedly
departed.
Wherefore, my gay
young shooters, you "who
week by week suck wis-
dom and conversational
ability from these columns,
it wouldn't be funny; and besides, I'm not donkey enough to ! it is borne in upon me that for your benefit I must treat of the
stand much of that ass Flickers. So just you pitch into him, and
the rest of 'em, my bonny boy, next time you put pen to paper." At
this moment my cheerful friend observed a hansom that took his
fancy. "Gad!" he said, " I never can resist one of those india-
Smoking-room in its connection with shooting-parties. Thus, per-
haps, you may learn not so much what you ought to sayas what
you ought not to say, and your discretion shall be the admiration of
a whole countrv-side. "The Smoking-room: with which is incor-
rubber tires. Ta, ta, old cock—keep your pecker up. Never forget porated ' Anecdotes.' " What a rollicking, cheerful, after-dinner
your goloshes when it rains, and always wear flannel next your ' sound there is about it. Shabrack might say it was like the title
skin," and, with that, he sprang into his hansom, ordered the cab- I of a cheap weekly, which as a matter of fact, it does resemble. But
man to drive him round the town as long as a florin would last, and
was gone.
Had the Captain only stayed with me a little longer, I should
have thanked him for his hint, which set me thinking. I know
Flickers well. Many a time have I heard that notorious ro-
mancer holding forth on his achievements in sport, and love, and
society. I have caught him tripping, convicted him of imagina-
tion on a score of occasions; dozens of his acquaintances must
what of that ? Next week we will begin upon it in good earnest.
On the Boxing1 Kangaroo.
From Smith and Mitchell to a Kangaroo!!!
The " noble art" is going up ! Whilloo !
Stay, though ! Since pugilist-man seems coward-clown,
Perhaps 'tis the Marsupial coming down !