t of
post and rail as stiff as an iron-clad, and twenty foot of gravel-pit
beyond." He will also speak with infinite contempt of those who
"crane" or stick to the roads. It will sometimes happen to him to
get invited--really invited--to an actual country house where genuine
sport is carried on. Here, however, he will generally have brought
with him his wrong gun, or his "idiot of a man" will have packed the
wrong kind of cartridges, or his horse will have suddenly developed an
unaccountable trick of refusing, which results in a crushed hat and
a mud-stained coat for his rider. These little accidents will by no
means dash his spirits, or impair his volubility in the smoking-room,
where he may be heard conducting a dull discussion on sporting
records, or carrying on an animated controversy about powder, size of
shot or bore, choke, the proper kind of gaiter, or the right stamp of
horse for the country. Having shot with indifferent results on a very
big day through coverts, he will afterwards aver that such sport is
very poor fun, and that what he really cares about is a tramp over
heather or turnips, and a small bag at the end of the day; but if he
should ever be found on a grouse moor, or a partridge shooting, he
will sneer at the inferior quality of a sport which requires that a
man should exhaust himself with useless walking exercise before he
gets near his birds. "Covert-shooting is the game, my boy;" he will
say, "most difficult thing in the world when the pheasants are tall,
and the finest test of a real sportsman," and with that he will miss
his twentieth grouse, and call down imprecations on the dogs, the
light, the keeper, and his own companions.

The Spurious Sportsman is often an officer of the auxiliary forces.
He knows by heart every button of the British Army, talks much upon
questions of discipline, and has a more sharply defined and more
permanent mark of sunburn across his forehead than any regular
officer. He is also a great stickler for etiquette, and prefers to be
addressed as Major or Colonel, as the case may be. He bears his rank
upon his visiting-cards, and frequents a military Club. In the society
of other Spurious Sportsmen he is at his best and noblest. They gather
together at their resorts, each with the sincere conviction that
every other member of the little coterie is a confirmed humbug. Yet
they never fail to bring their store of goods, their anecdotes, their
experiences, their adventures,