thousands of pounds. This revenue is expended in supporting the public-houses of our towns and villages; the publicans have no better patrons than acknowledged poachers. An interesting article about poaching recently appeared in the Nineteenth Century.[1] I was much pleased with its perusal, especially when I came across the naïve remark that 'from varying causes poaching has become almost a lost art.' Such a consummation is to be devoutly wished; but I am sadly afraid that it will hardly arrive before the millennium. I handle, so to speak, hundreds of poachers, and have often tried to persuade them to abandon their wicked ways; but I confess that I have met with very few reformed poachers. The instinct to kill game is itself a survival from the habits of our remote forefathers, among whom the cleverest trappers of the community were those who exercised most influence with their fellows. Rich and poor share this instinct alike. The well-to-do man pays for his 'shoot.' The labourer cannot afford to pay for it; so he makes it pays him instead. Of course poaching is just as dishonest as any other kind of theft; but you cannot induce ignorant men to see the heinousness of it. The result of poaching is bad every way. It unsettles a man, makes him deceitful, encourages him
- ↑ Nineteenth Century, 1893, p. 470.
