406. I know of a gentleman going to the North to reside on a small property, where the game had not been preserved for years. He at once engaged a clever keeper, who joined him immediately after the conclusion of the shooting season. In a few days the latter requested to see his master.
“Well, George, I fear you don’t find much game.”
The other replied, in broad Yorkshire dialect, “No-o, sir, no—nŏt mutch. ’A’ been thruff (through) t’ covers, and seen some auld budds—and, please, sir, I’d loike to shūt ’em.”
The gentleman started. “Shoot them! That’s an odd way of preserving them, unless indeed you intend to stuff them. Are you mad? There may be only a few birds, but I suppose a few are better than none.”
“No-o, sir, no—they beant. A few auld budds is wuss than none.”
“How’s that? What do you mean?”
“Well, I tell’e, sir—t’ auld uns be so stupid—jealous verrē (very)—t’ missis is sŭmtúmes (sometimes) ees verrē—I sure she is. They fight t’ young uns, and can’t do with strangers no how. Folks say a barren hen, if she foĭnd (find) a nest, ’ill brak all t’ eggs. A don’t know about that; perhaps they brak ’em i’ t’ fighting, but they be brukken sure enaef. So ye see, sir, ’spose we have no budds here, then t’ young ’uns, when t’ auld ’uns fight ’em in neighbours’ covers, coom in here to uz—and foĭnd ’emselves quite coomfortuble and bide. And b’sides they’ll knōw-thĕy-’ve-nŏ-rīght—thĕy’ll knōw-thĕy-’ve-nŏ-rīght thĕmsēlves, and so they wunt fight t’ new comers. There be sŭm gentlemen as shūts doon one-third of their estate every year, clean right away—and then t’ pheasants and t’ partridge coom in like-o-o-o. Quite many of them; yes, they do like t’ settlars in ’Merika, as á’ do hear say.”
407. This homely reasoning of the honest Yorkshireman[78] prevailed, and a good show of game the following season satisfactorily established the soundness of his views.
408. But we have been astray on the stubbles and in cover, instead of attending to our friend ([394], [398]) snipe-shooting in the marshes, and determining (for our own satisfaction, if not for his) whether the companionship of a good dog would not have greatly added to his enjoyment. Doubtless it would; for I appeal to you, if you are a devotee to the double detonator, whether it be not a magnificent thing to witness brilliant performance in fine dogs—to watch their prompt obedience—their graceful action—the expression of their intelligent countenances—to hope at the first feathering at a haunt—to participate in the nervous start on a closer touch—to share in the exciting alternation of the cautious “road,” and the momentary stop—to exult in the certainty of a sure find—to hesitate in the expectation of a sudden rise,—and, finally, to triumph in the fall of the noble old bird you have been steadily following through all his wiles and stratagems? If we have travelled over the past pages together, I hope you will further agree with me in thinking, that should you shoot over well-educated dogs of your own making, instead of to dogs broken by others, your gratification would be as greatly increased as would have been our Irish acquaintance’s, had he shot to really killing dogs, instead of possessing none at all. I firmly believe that more than half the pleasure a sportsman derives from shooting, consists in watching the hunting of well broken dogs, and that his gratification is nearly doubled if the dogs are of his own training. It was this persuasion that, on our introduction to each other ([3]), made me so strongly urge you to break in your dogs yourself.
409. I might urge you to do so from yet another motive. What can you name besides glorious hunting that will keep you in strength and prime condition so long as shooting? Is not an autumnal excursion to the wild moors, or even homely stubbles, far more invigorating than a saunter at the most salubrious watering-place? And would not continued, though it may be diminished, zest for the sport induce you to take air and exercise at a time of life when little else would lure you from the fire-side? That shooting, then, may not pall upon you as years creep on, surely you would do well to make the healthy recreation as attractive as possible; and hunting dogs of your own breaking would undeniably lend it not only a great but an enduring charm.