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To a real talker, this subject offers an infinite variety of
opportunities. First, you can begin to fight the battle of the
powders, as thus:--
"What powder are you shooting with this year, CHALMERS?"
"Schultze."
"How do you find it kill?"
"Deadly--absolutely-deadly: best lot I've ever had."
You need not say anything more now. The discussion will get along
beautifully without you, for you will have drawn, (1), the man who
very much prefers E.C., which he warrants to kill at a distance no
other powder can attain to; (2), the man who uses E.C. or Schultze
for his right barrel, and always puts a black-powder cartridge into
his left; (3), the detester of innovations, who means to go on using
the good old black-powder for both barrels as long as he lives; and
(4), the man who is trying an entirely new patent powder, infinitely
superior to anything else ever invented, and is willing to give
everybody, not only the address of the maker, but half a dozen
cartridges to try.
You cannot make much of "charges" of powder. Good shots are dogmatic
on the point, and ordinary shots don't bother their heads about it,
trusting entirely to the man who sells them their cartridges. Still
you might throw out, here and there, a few words about "drams" and
"grains." Only, above all things, be careful _not_ to mention drams
in connection with anything but black powder, nor grains, except with
reference to Schultze or E.C. A laboriously-acquired reputation as a
scientific shot has been known to be ruined by a want of clearness on
this important point.
"Shot." Conversationally much more valuable than powder. "Very few
people agree," says a well-known authority; "as to what is the best
size of shot to use, and many forget that the charge which will suit
one gun, and one description of game, will not do as well for another.
Usually, one gun will shoot better one size of shot than will another,
and we may safely say, that large bores shoot large shot better than
do smaller bores." This last sentence has the beautiful ring of a
profound truism. Lay it by for use, and bring it out with emphasis in
the midst of such disagreement and forgetfulness as are here alluded
to. "If a shooter is a good shot," says the same classic, "he may
use No. 6 early in the season, and only for partridges--afterwards,
nothing but No. 5. To the average shot, No. 6 throughout the season."
This sounds dreadfully invidious. If a good shot cannot kill grouse
with No. 6, how on earth is a merely average shot to do the trick?
But, in these matters, the conversationalist finds his opportunity.
Only they must not be pushed too far. There was once a party of
genial, light-hearted friends, who went out shooting. Early in the
day, slight differences of opinion made themselves observed with
reference to the size of shot. Lunch found them still more or less
good-tempered, but each obstinately determined not to give way even by
a fraction on the point under discussion.
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Afterwards they began again. The very dogs grew ashamed of the
noise, and went home. That afternoon there was peace in the world of
birds--at least, on that particular shooting--and the next morning saw
the shooting-parties of England reduced by one, which had separated
in different dog-carts, and various stages of high dudgeon, for the
railway station. So, please to be very, very careful. Use the methods
of compromise. If you find your friend obstinately pinned to No. 5,
when you have declared a preference for No. 6, meet him half-way,
or even profess to be converted by his arguments. Or tell him the
anecdote about the Irishman, who always shot snipe with No. 4,
because, "being such a little bird, bedad, you want a bigger shot to
get at the beggar." You can then inform him how you yourself once did
dreadful execution among driven grouse in a gale of wind with No. 8
shot, which you had brought out by mistake. You may object that you
never, as a matter of fact, did this execution, never having even shot
at all with No. 8. Tush! you are puling. If you are going to let a
conscientious accuracy stand in your way like this, you had better
become dumb when sporting talk is flying about. Of course you must not
exaggerate too much. Only bumptious fools do that, and they are called
liars for their pains. But a _little_ exaggeration, just a _soupçon_
of romance, does no one any harm, while it relieves the prosaic
dullness of the ordinary anecdote. So, swallow your scruples, and
Join the gay throng
That goes talking along,
For we'll all go romancing to-day.
(_To be continued._)
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