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.

[Illustration]

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