At shooting grounds such as those of Messrs. Holland and Holland, of New Bond Street, situated at Kensal Rise, there are many diversities attached to the recreation. Birds are thrown, in many cases, from high structures, or go flying over trees, and move in a mode similar to that of pheasants or driven grouse or partridges. Then, further, at this establishment, the figures of birds with outstretched wings appear for a few seconds on a whitened screen, and form interesting objects to fire at. Across this screen, again, metal representations of rabbits are made to run on an iron rod. From this it will be understood what a deal of variety may be introduced into this form of amusement. What humanitarians desire to see is the substitution everywhere of this kind of shooting for that of firing at pigeons and starlings and other living birds liberated from traps. I ought to say that at Messrs. Holland and Holland’s establishment live pigeons are kept for those who wish to fire at them, but I was pleased to learn that, for every living bird killed, a hundred clay birds are shot at. VI COURSING Coursing, the practice of chasing a hare with two greyhounds, slipped simultaneously from the leash, is one of the most ancient of blood-sports; but the spirit of those who take part in it does not seem to have improved with time. It may be doubted whether modern patrons of the sport are as chivalrous as those referred to by the old writer Arrian, whose work on Coursing dates from the second century: “For coursers, such at least as are true sportsmen, do not take out their dogs for the sake of catching a hare, but for the contest and sport of coursing, and are glad if the hare escape; if she fly to any thin brake for concealment, though they may see her trembling and in the utmost distress, they will call off their dogs.” What is the attraction of coursing? The author of “The Encyclopædia of Rural Sports” (1852) is forced to admit that coursing has been found dull: “We may be asked,” he says, “what pleasure there can be for people marshalled in a line, at certain distances from each other, monotonously to walk or ride at a foot pace over a ploughed field or across a wide heath on a bleak November day, the eye anxiously directed hither and thither to catch the clod or the sidelong furrow that half conceals poor puss, or to espy the tuft she has parted to make her form in.” But even so stupid a pastime as this has its charms for many people, when to the zest of seeing a timid animal’s life at stake there is added the more modern excitement of betting on the prowess of the dogs.