Fourth Sportsman (military man).  Gad, it was awful!  I’d rather be bucketed about by EVELYN WOOD for a week than face another woodcock.  I heard ’em shoutin’, “Woodcock forward!  Woodcock back!  Woodcock to the right!  Woodcock to the left!  Mark—­mark!” Gad! thinks I to myself, the bally place must be full of ’em.  Just then out he came, as sly as be blowed.  My old bundook went off of its own accord.  I bagged the best part of an oak tree, and, after that, I scooted.  Things were gettin’ just a shade too warm, by gad!  A reg’lar hail-storm, that’s what it was.  No, thank you, thinks I; not for this party—­I’m off to cover.  So that’s all I know about it.  Thanks, TOMMY—­do you mind handin’ round that beer-jug?

First Sportsman (rallying him).  Just think of that.  And we’re all of us taxed to keep a chap like that in comfort.  Why you’re paid to be shot at—­that’s what you’re there for, you and your thin red line, and all that.  By Jupiter! we don’t get our money’s worth out of you if you’re going to cut and run before a poor, weak, harmless woodcock.

    [Military Sportsman is heavily chaffed.

Military Sportsman.  Oh, it’s all very well for you Johnnies to gas like that—­but, by Gad, you didn’t seem over-anxious to stand fire yourselves.  Why your teeth are chattering still, BINKS.

Binks.  Ah, but I’m only a poor civilian.

Military Sportsman.  Well, I cut and ran as a civilian.  See?  Did anyone shoot the bloomin’ bird, after all?

The Host. Shoot him?  I should think not.  The last I saw of him he was sailing off quite comfortable, cocking snooks at the whole lot.  Have another go of pie, JOHNNY?

So that is the Great Woodcock Saga, the absolute accuracy of which every sportsman is bound to recognise.  And the great truth that burst upon me is this, that if you want to restore good temper to a shattered party, you must start talking about woodcocks.  If you saw a woodcock in the morning, talk about that one.  If not, begin about the woodcock you saw last week, or the woodcock somebody else missed the week before.  But whatever you do, always keep a woodcock for a (metaphorically) rainy day.  Bring him out at lunch next time you shoot, and watch the effect.

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“GRIEVANCES OF CIVIL SERVANTS.”—­Sir, seeing this heading in the Times to a letter which I didn’t stop to read, I can only say, for my part, that us servants as is really civil ought not never to have any “grievancies.”  Tips is the reward to “civil servants.”—­Yours, THE BUTLER.

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