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235
The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
·
George Gissing
44
XV.
Midway
in
my
long
walk
yesterday,
I
lunched
at
a
wayside
inn.
On
the
table
lay
a
copy
of
a
popular
magazine.
Glancing
over
this
miscellany,
I
found
an
article,
by
a
woman,
on
"Lion
Hunting,"
and
in
this
article
I
came
upon
a
passage
which
seemed
worth
copying.
"As
I
woke
my
husband,
the
lion--which
was
then
about
forty
yards
off--charged
straight
towards
us,
and
with
my
.303
I
hit
him
full
in
the
chest,
as
we
afterwards
discovered,
tearing
his
windpipe
to
pieces
and
breaking
his
spine.
He
charged
a
second
time,
and
the
next
shot
hit
him
through
the
shoulder,
tearing
his
heart
to
ribbons."
It
would
interest
me
to
look
upon
this
heroine
of
gun
and
pen.
She
is
presumably
quite
a
young
woman;
probably,
when
at
home,
a
graceful
figure
in
drawing-rooms.
I
should
like
to
hear
her
talk,
to
exchange
thoughts
with
her.
She
would
give
one
a
very
good
idea
of
the
matron
of
old
Rome
who
had
her
seat
in
the
amphitheatre.
Many
of
those
ladies,
in
private
life,
must
have
been
bright
and
gracious,
high-bred
and
full
of
agreeable
sentiment;
they
talked
of
art
and
of
letters;
they
could
drop
a
tear
over
Lesbia's
sparrow;
at
the
same
time,
they
were
connoisseurs
in
torn
windpipes,
shattered
spines
and
viscera
rent
open.
It
is
not
likely
that
many
of
them
would
have
cared
to
turn
their
own
hands
to
butchery,
and,
for
the
matter
of
that,
I
must
suppose
that
our
Lion
Huntress
of
the
popular
magazine
is
rather
an
exceptional
dame;
but
no
doubt
she
and
the
Roman
ladies
would
get
on
very
well
together,
finding
only
a
few
superficial
differences.
The
fact
that
her
gory
reminiscences
are
welcomed
by
an
editor
with
the
popular
taste
in
view
is
perhaps
more
significant
than
appears
either
to
editor
or
public.
Were
this
lady
to
write
a
novel
(the
chances
are
she
will)
it
would
have
the
true
note
of
modern
vigour.
Of
course
her
style
has
been
formed
by
her
favourite
reading;
more
than
probably,
her
ways
of
thinking
and
feeling
owe
much
to
the
same
source.
If
not
so
already,
this
will
soon,
I
daresay,
be
the
typical
Englishwoman.
Certainly,
there
is
"no
nonsense
about
her."
Such
women
should
breed
a
remarkable
race.
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