(4.) _The Soldier Shot._ This kind is generally a Captain, dresses well, but not gaudily, and smokes big cigars. There seems to be a general idea that a man who can teach privates to shoot targets must be able to shoot game himself. Yet the Soldier Shot misses birds quite beautifully. He will have often shot big game in India with an accuracy that increases in proportion to the number of miles that separate him from the scene of his exploits. After all, the ability to "brown" a herd of elephants does not guarantee rights and lefts at partridges. Apt to declaim tersely and forcibly about the hardships of a military career. (5.) _The Average Shot._ Talk to him about average matters, unless you hear he is a celebrity in some other branch of sport. In that case, get details from him of his last Alpine climb, or his latest run to hounds, or ask his views on racing matters. Most average shots go racing, and think they understand all about it. I say nothing here about the Dangerous Shot, because it is never right to get within talking distance of him. In fact, he ought not to be talked to at all. I am not sure he ought to be allowed to live. Still, his exploits furnish material for many an animated conversation amongst the survivors. * * * * * [Illustration: --"ANIMIS COELESTIBUS IRAE!" A MODERN SCIENTIFIC DISCUSSION. _Miss Fanny_ (_a gentle and most veracious Child_). "YAH! YOU CRUEL COWARD! YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS SKINNED A LIVE FROG!" _Master Victor_ (_an industrious but very touchy little Boy_). "YOU'RE A LIAR! THE FROG WAS DEAD, AND _YOU KNOW IT!_" _Miss Fanny._ "BOOHOO! WHETHER IT WAS DEAD OR NOT, YOU'VE GOT NO RIGHT TO CALL NAMES; 'COS I'M A GIRL, AND CAN'T PUNCH YOUR HEAD!" _Master Victor._ "IT'S JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE A GIRL THAT _I_ CAN'T PUNCH _YOURS_! YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU CALLED ME A COWARD!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE CABINET MEET.] * * * * * [Illustration: A BUCKJUMPERISH SENSATION. [It is rumoured that some of BUFFALO BILL's Broncos have been bought by the Cab Proprietors of London.] _Cabby._ "SIT STILL, SIR! THIS AIN'T NOTHIN' TO WOT 'E _CAN_ DO. YOU'LL SEE 'IM TURN 'EAD OVER 'EELS PRESENTLY!"] * * * * * A QUESTION OF POLICE; _OR, WHAT IT MAY COME TO._ SCENE--_Trafalgar Square just before sunset. Police in abundance; number of Processionists in various parts of the open space seen to be dispersing._ _Police Inspector._ Now, my good friends, I am going to be as polite as possible, but I must obey the regulations of the Commissioners of Her Majesty's Works and Public Buildings. And I say you cannot speak, because you have not given proper notice to the authorities. _First Orator._ But I have--I tell you I wrote to the Commissioner four days ago. _Pol. In._ Oh, did you? Then that of course alters the case. What are you, Sir?