eved, in order that it may deceive. But,
in the Spurious Sportsman's ventures into the marvellous, there is
generally something that gives ground for the exercise of charity,
and the appalled listener may hope that even the narrator is not
so thoroughly convinced of the reality of his exploits as he would,
apparently, desire others to be. And there is this also to be said
in excuse, that sport, which calls for the exercise of some of the
noblest attributes of man's nature, not infrequently leads him into
mean traps and pitfalls. For there are few men who can aver, with
perfect accuracy, that they have never added a foot or two to their
longest shot, or to the highest jump of their favourite horse, and
have never, in short, exaggerated a difficulty in order to increase
the triumph of overcoming it. But the modesty that confines most men
within reasonable limits of untruthfulness has no restraining power
over the Spurious Sportsman, to whom somewhat, therefore, may be
forgiven for the sake of the warning he affords.

He is, as a rule, a dweller in London, for it is there that he finds
the largest stock of credulity and tolerance. To walk with him in the
streets, or to travel with him in a train, is to receive for nothing
a liberal education in sport. No man has ever shot a greater number
of rocketing pheasants with a more unerring accuracy than he has--in
Pall Mall, St. James's Street, or Piccadilly. He will point out to you
the exact spot where he would post himself if the birds were being
driven from St. James's Square over the Junior Carlton Club. He will
then expatiate learnedly on angle, and swing, and line of flight,
and having raised his stick suddenly to his shoulder, by way of an
example, will knock off the hat of an inoffensive passer-by. This
incident will remind him of an adventure he had while shooting with
Lord X.--"A deuced good chap at bottom; a bit stiff at first, but the
best fellow going when you really know him"--through the well-known
coverts of his lordship's estate. When travelling safely in a
railway-carriage, he is the boldest cross-country rider in existence.
He will indicate to you a fence full of dangers, and having taught you
how it may best be cleared, will add, that it is nothing to one that
he jumped last season with the Quytchley. "My dear Sir," he will say,
"a man who was riding behind me was so astounded that he measured it
then and there with a tape he happened to have with him; Six foo