The Birmingham age-herald., 1903-05-31
JACK MAsoN's SHOOTING.
Many Tales Are Told of This Old Time
 Virginia Sportsman.

From all accounts Jack Mason in his youth was the widest rattling young blade in the country; one of his sporting escapades is a household tradition down in old Quantieo to this day, says Alexan- der Hunter, in Outing.
 There was a large plantation in the sec ton, owned and worked by 9 Scotchman an elderly man, who employed no over seer, but filled the place himself. He was the typical stern, bigoted Scotch cove nanter, as drawn by the immortal pen or the Wizard of the North. He was fan- atic in all things and was utterly out oI place among the pleasure loving Virginia gentry It was the irrepressible antipathy of the cavalier and Puritan-the rising of the bristles of the boar at the approach of the stag-hounds. He herded by himself and they left him severely alone. The canny Scot was himself no sportsman, nor would he allow any of the neighbors to fire a gun on his place, and, in conse- quence his plantation became reservoir for game, and the fields fairly swarmed with quail 5s,
 Now 1t happened there was a large ball near by, with Jack Mason in attendance, of course and during the night the young planters discussed the chances of autumn shooting, and deplored the failure of all their efforts to be allowed to hunt on the Scotchmans preserves Jack Mason offered to bet his favorte horse against any of equal value that he would shoot over that preserve on the morrow, and with the full and free consent of the owner. He was asked if he knew him personally or had unknown means of win ming his favor.
 He answered in the negative, and added he had never even met the Scot in his life. The wager was closed there and then.
 The next morning, as the old Cove nanter was walking up and down the porch enjoying his after-breakfast pipe, strange apparition advanced up the gravel walk and took off his three-cor- nered hat and made him a sweeping bow. The Scot winked his eye and looked again. He saw a slender effeminate looking fel- low, some twenty-five years old, who seemed literally to have stepped from the ballroom. His ruffled shirt front was adorned with a diamond, mother of pearl buttons gleamed in his skyblue coat, and his satin small-clothes glistened in the sunshine; a pair of silk stockings were gartered by loveknot bow of blue rib bon, and his dancing pumps were decor ated by a 1eweled buckle. He carried a gun in one hand and two pointer dogs trooped at his heels.
 Well what do you want?' asked the planter.
 In mincing voice the intruder asked his gracious permission to shoot few birds, saying he had been dancing all night at Warwick hall and needed little morning exercise.
 The Scot gazed at him with the same feeling. perhaps, that his stalwart noun tain bred ancestor had at the perfumed, IaI Iv,fx 0f IIa about to utter a curt and positive refusal when his grim Scotch humor got the bet ter of him. He came near hilarious laugh ter as he saw that delicately clothed crea- ture standing so clean, jaunty and nice and then pictured him returning from the hunt his costly attire in rags, his tender limbs scratched, his morning glory all gone So he smiled in his beard and asked him if he intended to hunt just as he was dressed. He was answered in the affirmative. So he gave his assent that his unknown guest for that one day might shoot all he pleased, and then he darted off for the low grounds to attend the corn-shucking.
 A short time after his negro manager came running up to him and said:
 Fore God! marster, there won't be a bird left on dis here place. De mans a debbil, and the dogs is the debbil, and the gun Is a debbil."
 Dropping his work the owner hurried to the scene, and he opened his eyes very wide indeed at what he saw In the front of the house was a stubble field of several hundred acres that had been harvested in wheat the same year. It was as level as a table, and an ideal feeding place for the quail For many years they had whistled. mated and feed around the place all undisturbed until they became a nncf oo tafa hor mt owner saw the dogs stand motionless, saw the dandy sportman pick his way gently where they were, saw a few birds rise and two puffs of smoke followed nearly simultaneous report. Two birds dropped then the dogs retrieved. and the game was handed to nondescript negro lad whom the sportsman had picked up somewhere, who had tied the birds to a string and rapped them around his body until he was half hidden from view.
 The gun was loaded and capped inside of a minute. The performance was re- peated; the man never hurried, the dogs, beautifully trained, never bungled the gun never missed, and the dandy had, in sporting parlance, never turned a hair'' The stockings were little colored by the chickweed, but he was ready to lead the minuet that moment
 The Scotchman at first was furiouslv angry but as he saw the matchless work of the trinity of destructive agents man, gun, dog-so perfectly blended into one, and beheld in the affected coxcomb the same metal which under Rupert had again and again broken the steel-fronted squares of Cromwell's Ironsides. he ad vanced and asked his name, and when if was given he answered, ''I might have known it''
 And that's how Jack Mason won his bet 
 What It Cost to Be Boy. From the Philadelphia Ledger.