freedom and undisturbed nature. Who
can compare grouse with partridge shooting? Still the difference exists,
not so much in the character of the bird as in the features of the
country. It is the wild aspect of the heathery moor without a bound,
except the rugged outline of the mountains upon the sky, that gives
such a charm to the grouse-shooting in Scotland, and renders the
deer-stalking such a favourite sport among the happy few who can enjoy
it.

All this proves that the simple act of killing is not sport; if it were,
the Zoological Gardens would form as fine a field to an elephant shot as
the wildest Indian jungle.

Man is a bloodthirsty animal, a beast of prey, instinctively; but let
us hope that a true sportsman is not savage, delighting in nothing but
death, but that his pursuits are qualified by a love of nature, of noble
scenery, of all the wonderful productions which the earth gives forth
in different latitudes. He should thoroughly understand the nature and
habits of every beast or bird that he looks upon as game. This last
attribute is indispensable; without it he may kill, but he is not a
sportsman.

We have, therefore, come to the conclusion that the character of a
country influences the character of the sport. The first question,
therefore, that an experienced man would ask at the recital of a
sporting anecdote would be, 'What kind of country is it?' That being
clearly described to him, he follows you through every word of your tale
with a true interest, and in fact joins in imagination in the chase.

There is one great drawback to the publication of sporting
adventures--they always appear to deal not a little in the marvellous;
and this effect is generally heightened by the use of the first person
in writing, which at all events may give an egotistical character to a
work. This, however, cannot easily be avoided, if a person is describing
his own adventures, and he labours under the disadvantage of being
criticised by readers who do not know him personally, and may,
therefore, give him credit for gross exaggeration.

It is this feeling that deters many men who have passed through years of
wild sports from publishing an account of them. The fact of being able
to laugh in your sleeve at the ignorance of a reader who does not credit
you, is but a poor compensation for being considered a better shot with
a long bow than with a rifle. Often have I pitied Gordon Cumming when
I have heard him talked of as