The first step, assuming the learner to be a complete novice, will be to acquire the proper mode of putting his gun to his shoulder, and of bringing the sight to bear upon a particular object,—the latter only to be rightly accomplished with the breech and sight on a level. Having attained this preliminary, let him take a flint gun, with a piece of wood substituted for the flint, and practise at the object so situated, always remembering to pull the trigger the moment the sight is on the mark—a precaution he will find the vast advantage of as he comes to apply it to flying shots. After a practice so conducted till the eye ceases to flinch when the trigger is drawn, he may begin to load with half charges, and continue to practise at his object, occasionally, without his knowledge, small charges of shot being added, so that he shall strike his mark without the nervous excitement of feeling that he is making the attempt.

The great point—that of steadiness combined with self-confidence—being arrived at, he may now try his hand at small birds; but even after he has become adroit at these, he has still another ordeal to go through. This is the tremour at the springing of game, whether a pack of grouse, a covey of partridges, or a solitary cock-pheasant, which, indeed, often makes as startling a flight as either. In this case, it will serve him greatly to return to the system he began with, and learn to cover his game without the nervous apprehension of a miss. While at this practice, he may begin to use himself to cover with both eyes open, the advantage of which he will soon discover when he comes to quick shooting.

Being tolerably au fait at these points of practice (for perfection can only result from long experience, whence come skill and judgment), it will be necessary that he bear in mind those rules for rightly effecting his purpose when his game is moving. He must shoot before an object that crosses his point of sight; high for a bird rising in its flight, or skimming the surface; between the ears of hares or rabbits running in a straight line from him,—being guided, of course, in every case, by the distance between him and the mark at which he aims. For example, if a bird range forty yards from him, calculating the ordinary velocity of its speed of wing, he may safely aim six inches before it. No fixed rules, however, can be laid down, where the casualties of powder, a dull or lively-shooting gun, high winds, and fifty other et ceteras, are opposed to a system. One principle he may always adopt with success, and that is, to fix his eyes on the mark he has selected, and fire the instant the gun is brought to bear upon it. It is very difficult to say at what distance a bird may be which can be called a fair shot, because it rests with so many contingencies. Forty yards are generally considered as point-blank range, but it will often be found easier to bring down game at fifty than at thirty yards. The wind, as in cross shots, and various operating causes—all the result of temporary accident—must be taken into account. You will always have a better chance to kill long cross shots than those approaching or flying from you. It is very hard to do execution upon birds with a stern-chaser, and in coming towards you they present a surface off which shot is very apt to glance without penetrating. I have said nothing about the hold of his gun most convenient for the learner to accustom himself to, because, in whatever manner it may be put into his hands at first, he is sure, ultimately, to adopt a style of his own, arising from natural causes, or habits almost as forcible. The nearer it is placed to the guard, the less risk is run should a barrel burst. The grasp of the stock more forward affords the greatest facility in bringing the gun to bear upon its object, and more firmness of position.

While I am on the mechanical portion of the young shooter’s acquirements, or rather things to be acquired, I do not think a better opportunity can be chosen to introduce a few hints upon a more advanced state of practice, albeit some may, at the time of perusing them, be unfit to receive what may be termed finishing lessons. When you are about taking a cross shot at a long range, fire well before it, from one to three feet, according to the speed with which the bird is flying, and let your gun be thrown above the object. The same rule must direct you in firing at hares or rabbits, whether it be a cross shot or one in a right line. It is a most mischievous practice, as far as regards your day’s sport, to make much noise in the field, however strong the provocation from the disobedience of your dogs, or any cause whatever. Should your pointers prove incorrigible, I would rather recommend you, when they have sprung a covey, to cause them to be taken up, and then walk yourself as near as you can to the spot where you saw it drop. Should the birds rise singly or by the brace, continue to beat and shoot while you think one remains: it will be time enough to look after the slain (that cannot abscond) when you make sure of the living. This plan may also be successfully adopted when there is not scent enough to prevent the staunchest dogs from running in upon their game. In marking your covey down, remember they cannot fall so long as they continue to skim: they cannot alight till they stop themselves, and prepare for the pitch, by a flapping of the wings.

I should not advise you to begin beating for partridges, even in September, before nine o’clock, and then desist from it at noon. From three till dusk is the golden division of the day, at that season, for the partridge-shooter. If your ground happen to lie in the vicinity of manors that have been shot over during the day, you will be certain to meet the remnants of scattered coveys, of all chances the most sure to fill your game-bag. With pheasants, however, when they are to be sought in strong covers particularly, your system must be almost reversed. As the day advances, these birds resort to the thickest and strongest lying that the woodlands frequented by them afford. When beating, in the early morning, after rain, you will generally find them in the skirts of covers, or in the hedgerows adjacent. In such cases, always contrive to place yourself between them and the strong old woods: to these they are certain to fly,—instinct teaching them that there they are most sheltered and secure. In battue-shooting, all you have to attend to is the situation of the best opens, and such sides of the covers intended to be beaten, as the direction of the wind, and the ordinary resort of the game, point out as the most judicious stations; but when about to engage in a single-handed day’s sport, you will require a more skilful disposition, and closer attention to the manner of your tactics. In this latter case, your best assistant will be a steady old pointer: one that will range near you, work round every piece of copse and underwood, and poke into every nook and crevice; well broke he must be, so as to fall at shot, and crouch down on bringing in his birds.

In a treatise such as this, it would be impossible to give even the briefest epitome of directions for the various classes of game and wild-fowl shooting. Before, however, I close my address to the young disciple of the trigger, I will offer him a few familiar hints on a division of his craft neither the least in importance or interest,—namely, his relation to his best ally and friend, the dog. I am not going to suggest the species best suited to general shooting, as so very much depends upon the country to be hunted, and the chance that may direct selection; but whether pointer, setter, or spaniel, you will find your account in making such as you intend for coadjutors in the field your ordinary associates and companions. Try the experiment by committing one puppy of a litter entirely to the breaker, and retaining another (when the general rudiments of his education have been acquired) constantly with yourself, and at every opportunity subjected to gentle but firm discipline, and you will soon discover which is the better plan. Adopt the same system with a perfectly-made hunter—a master of his business; and you will soon find out the difference of being served by one who, from habit, will be enabled to understand your looks, and another who, at best, will have to puzzle out your wishes, or require to have them announced at the hazard of flushing half the game in the parish.

With this parting word on the social economy of shooting, closes the last of those notices of our Field Sports which the publisher thought it convenient to appear in this volume, and the treatment of which he confided to me. If his purpose has been fulfilled, my desire will be accomplished,—the wish to please being our unity of design. The little talent the writer possesses, at all events will not have failed from lack of anxiety to accomplish his task: what is writ is writ,—

“Would it were worthier!”

INDEX.