The Sinews of Sport.—The Marquis (to head keeper). "Now, Grandison, His Royal Highness will be tired of waiting: why don't you send in the beaters?"
Head keeper (sotto voce). "Beg pardon, my lord, the London train's late this morning with the pheasants—we must have half an hour to get 'em into the coverts!"
At The Quickshot Club.—First Sportsman. Well, I killed four rabbits with two barrels last September.
Second Sportsman. And I had five partridges on one drive, three coming towards me, and two with fresh cartridges over the hill.
Third Sportsman (wearily). But nobody comes up to my slaying of an elephant in Assam with a pea rifle. Would you like to hear the yarn?
[The Third Sportsman is immediately left alone.