THE SPORTSMAN'S NIGHTMARE THE GAMEKEEPER. "Cerberus hæc ingens latratu regna trifauci Personat, adverso recubans immanis in antro." WHEN sporting, the most honest man. always poaches a little. We are all most conscientious, that is evident; have infinite probity, that is incontestable. A shilling ill got would disturb our rest; should we find the purse of a neighbour, doubtless we should return it: nevertheless, one kills three of his hares without remorse, ten partridges without sleeping the worse, a brace of pheasants with delight. Such are the trifles of the human heart. I have myself experienced this. A hare killed in the clover of an enemy is a hundred times better than another. Pain qu'on dérobe, et qu'on mange en cachette, It causes more emotion. We live from emotions; without them we should not act. The heart beats quick, as, knowing you are in the wrong, you fear the keeper-he whom you fancy always either behind a hedge, lying in a ditch, or stuck up in a tree. Ah, the keeper! that repulsive figure saves the life of many a partridge. At the same time it is not the gun which does most harm. It it not against such poaching that an active keeper should give his greatest attention. It is against your night poachers, your carriers of nets, gins, and traps, diabolical inventions, capable of destroying all the game on your land in a few hours. Yes, your night poachers, who sleep during the day, and wake during the night, will take advantage of you and us also. A sportsman should have a well-filled purse, and not forget to take it with him. This purse should contain money of all sorts: the louis d'or should be mixed with the five-franc piece, francs, &c. You should understand, when occasion offers, whether to give the one or the other: this will depend on the nature of the case. At times this bribery is useless; incorruptible keepers are found: I have seen half an écu refused with dignity. I one day put up a covey of partridges, which alighted within two hundred paces of me, in a field of clover. This clover was surrounded by a ditch, from which a voice appeared to say to me, "Stay where you are." This was all very well; but the partridges being there close to me, the covey complete, my game-bag empty, in an instant I could secure a brace at least: who the devil could resist? The temptation was too great for a poor mortal; I felt myself devoured by it; and I gave in to it in order to deliver myself, which is the best means. Cæsar passed the Rubicon; I was a little Cæsar, and I jumped over the hedge. My dog at the point-the birds rosea double shot; all this was done in an instant. This keeper was the "Hacktintirkoff" of S keepers, the Cerberus of the plain, the terror of poachers. As a serpent he hid himself in the coverts, climbed trees like a squirrel, and there, perched on a branch, his eagle eye overlooked the fields and penetrated the coverts. Did he see a sportsman, down he came like a cat; he ran like a hare. Always invisible when you sought him, he rose from the earth at the moment you least expected him. Like a certain heroine of M. Arlincourt's, he was everywhere and nowhere, never and always to be found. - Keeper. I declare you to have broken the law for having fired on my master's grounds. Where is your license? Self. You have not the right to ask it: understand, my friend, a private keeper is only a servant; you should be aware that a license can only be demanded by a keeper of the forests, a gendarme, the mayor, or his deputy. Keeper. We shall see that. Self-It is already seen. With regard to the partridges which I have killed, it is another question: I was in the wrong, I admit take this, said I, slipping a fivefranc piece into his hand, and drink my health. Keeper.-No, sir: I shall do my duty. Self.-Do your duty and keep your feet warm. It is an excellent prescription, recommended by all the faculty. Putting my money into my pocket, I turned my back on him.-I will take advantage of this circumstance to recommend all sportsmen to avoid all sorts of quarrels. You should be careful not to get angry with a loaded gun in your hand; the end may become tragic: it is a question of amusement, and not of acting melodrama, when you are in the field. You are taken in a flagrant act: endeavour to arrange the affair amicably, or at least to lighten the consequences. We no longer live in a time when the death of a hare will send you to the galleys.. You will get off for a pound or two; often for less, sometimes for nothing. Having returned home, I wrote to Mr. |