Regular readers of my stories are probably well aware of my penchant for books. I’m forever scouring bric-a-brac and secondhand shops in the hope of finding something special. That discarded book, worthless to its previous owner but a jewel to me, and if at a “please take it away” price, so much the better.
THE POACHER AND THE SQUIRE
And you find them in the strangest places. Just recently, Idiscovered The Poacher and the Squire in my sister-in-law’s very extensive book collection, of all places. Now, I don’t think she has ever handled a gun in all of her 80 years on earth, and apart from her brother-in-law being a fanatical wingshooter, Iguess she doesn’t care much about hunting either. Neither do I think she harbours a secret wish of handling a gun in heaven. I’ll wager that she never even read the book. How and why she ended up with the book in her possession is amystery. As she loves history, I can only surmise that it was perhaps the historical aspect that attracted her. Therefore, I had no qualms about relieving her of said book.
Written by Charles Chenevix Trench, is a historical account of poaching and game preservation in England. Right from the very beginning in medieval times to 1967, when
