The “Crack-shots.”  No.  I.

A club, under the imposing style of the “Crack-Shots,” met every Wednesday evening, during the season, at a house of public entertainment in the salubrious suburbs of London, known by the classical sign of the “Magpye and Stump.”  Besides a trim garden and a small close-shaven grass-plat in the rear (where elderly gentlemen found a cure for ’taedium vitae’ and the rheumatism in a social game of bowls), there was a meadow of about five or six acres, wherein a target was erected for the especial benefit of the members of this celebrated club; we say celebrated, because, of all clubs that ever made a noise in the world, this bore away the palm-according to the reports in the neighbourhood.  Emulation naturally caused excitement, and the extraordinary deeds they performed under its influence we should never have credited, had we not received the veracious testimony of—­the members themselves.

After the trials of skill, they generally spent the evenings together.

Jack Saggers was the hero of the party; or perhaps he might be more appropriately termed the “great gun,” and was invariably voted to the chair.  He made speeches, which went off admirably; and he perpetrated puns which, like his Joe Manton, never missed fire, being unanimously voted admirable hits by the joyous assembly.

Their pleasures and their conversation might truly be said to be of a piece.

“Gentlemen”—­said Jack, one evening rising upon his legs—­“Do me the favour to charge.  Are you all primed and loaded?  I am about to propose the health of a gentleman, who is not only an honour to society at large, but to the ‘Crack-Shots’ in particular.  Gentlemen, the mere mention of the name of Brother Sniggs—­(hear! hear!)—­I know will call forth a volley!—­(Hear! hear!) Gentlemen, I give you the health of Brother Sniggs! make ready, present and fire!”

Up went the glasses, and down went the liquor in a trice, followed by three times three, Jack Saggers giving the time, and acting as “fugle-man.”

Sniggs, nervously fingering his tumbler of “half and half,” as if he wanted the spirit to begin, hemmed audibly, and

“Having three times shook his head
To stir his wit, thus he said,”

“Gentlemen, I don’t know how it is, but somehows the more a man has to say, the more he can’t!  I feel, for all the world, like a gun rammed tight and loaded to the muzzle, but without flint or priming——­”

“Prime!” exclaimed Jack Saggers; and there was a general titter, and then he continued; “as we cannot let you off Sniggs, you most go on, you know.”

“Gentlemen,” resumed Sniggs, “I feel indeed so overloaded by the honors you have conferred on me, that I cannot find words to express my gratitude.  I can only thank you, and express my sincere wish that your shots may always tell.”

And he sat down amidst unbounded applause.  “By no means a-miss!” cried Jack Saggers.