THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER;

OR,

A DAY'S PARTRIDGE SHOOTING.

BY ORNITHER.

Trahit sua quemque voluptas.

VIRGILII BUCOLICA, Ecloga 2.

ABOUT midday on the thirty-first of August, 184-, we began to collect our shooting appointments, and to make preparations for the morrow;-occupations that give the sportsman considerable pleasure, and which none can perform so satisfactorily as himself.

Every thing being complete and in readiness;-dogs carefully secured, gun and apparatus safely stowed in their places, and that sine qua non of costly crimson-paper, bearing the crown royal within a garter inscribed Office for Taxes," tightly buckled in our pocketbook, we seized the reins and leaped joyfully into the vehicle which was to convey us some fifteen miles to P, a remote village on the Welsh border of Herefordshire.

Our road lay through a hilly country, thinly populated when compared with other parts of England, but presenting to the eye an agreeably diversified landscape. Woods, for the most part, crowned the lofty hills, the lower slopes being allotted to arable purposes, while the valleys, through which a hundred blue rills. pursued their fertilizing courses, formed the rich pastures, where those herds of splendid cattle fed, which are the pride and wonder of the agricultural world.*

The harvest had been an early one: the wheat was entirely gathered in, and the lent grain nearly so. Here and there, however, might still be seen a field of unripe oats, or standing beans, which would afford shelter for the birds, and annoy the sportsman.

The sun was about to sink behind the purple "Hatterel hills," when we entered the straggling village, at the end of which lay the antiquated" Manor House" where our journey was to close. It was a calm, clear evening, and the sunset promised fair weather for the morrow. The sturdy old battlemented tower and Norman church, gray with age, and picturesque from ill-repaired dilapidations, stood out in fine relief against the dark elm-rookery which screened "the rectory" from the northern winds. Groups of daws, perched indolently on coignes and pinnacles, seemed to look down upon some score, or thereabouts, of vociferous children on the greensward beneath, who, for their part, all rushed forward to the low parapet next the road, to scrutinize the strangers and their vehicle as they passed along. Numbers of screeching swallows were rapidly chasing each other in rings. round the humble inn, and newly-filled stackyard of a neighbouring farm.

The village stithy yet rang with the sound of the anvil; but labour had chiefly closed, and decrepit old people of both sexes were sitting in the pleasant sunshine at their doors, proving, unconsciously, that

The Hereford and Durham breeds of cattle have been brought to that high state of perfection by thoughtful and judicious management, beyond which it appears impossible for human skili to carry them.

Sept.-VOL. LXVI. NO. CCLXI.

I

though age might have enfeebled and withered their once stalwart or buxom frames, it had not quenched their sympathy for the beautiful, and that mere existence was, for the time at least, both a boon and a blessing.

After passing" the common," where we saw women beating out and winnowing with snowy sheets the corn their families and themselves had gleaned, we soon arrived at the place of our destination.

It was a large old house of the Elizabethan age, seated in a natural hollow (for the architects of those days were not always happy in their choice of sites), and there was visible, not only in the house itself, but in the unpruned shrubs around, and the weed-choked fish-pond before it, unequivocal evidences of neglect and decay. It was tenanted by a respectable old man, who farmed pretty largely on his own account, and also acted as steward of the estates for our acquaintance, the proprietess, who lived in a distant part of the country.

Here, seated in a large oak-wainscoted dining-room, we found our good friend Captain S, in conjunction with whom we had shot over the manor for seven years, and who, during that time, had not once failed annually to meet us on this night.

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"If the weather be fine," observed he, after the usual greetings had been exchanged, we shall have a prime day of it to-morrow." "Have you been over the ground then ?" inquired I.

"Not since the last week in July; but I saw enough then to satisfy me that both hares and birds were abundant; and Howells (the wood-ward and keeper) has just told me that, to his knowledge, there are no less than five large and strong coveys on the Blackway's farm alone, to say nothing of Dulais and The Bacha, which you know are always lucky."

"That's pleasant news," rejoined I. "But mind! we must begin early to-morrow, and drive in the birds from the western boundary of the property; for I learnt from the toll-gate keeper at Pontrilais, that Herbert, the sporting publican from H-, had passed with a stranger and dogs in a gig, and we may safely conclude, from former experience, that their point is the Red Oaks. Now if we don't set watch throughout the day, they will harry the entire skirts of the manor, on that side, of its game."

"Very proper precautions," returned the captain, "and they shall be observed. Pray what dogs have you brought?"

"The same as last year-Hassan, Zanga, and Duchess," replied I: "and hearing that your high-mettled pointer was here, I was careful in directing them to be locked up separately, dreading a rencounter between them, similar to that which disturbed and annoyed us last season."

Having spread out our apparatus, and adjusted every thing against the morning, we sat down to a substantial, and by no means inelegant supper; after which, directing candles to be brought us half an hour before daybreak, we retired.

There was a time when, on the night preceding a shooting excursion, so active has been our fancy, and such the eagerness of anticipation, that hour after hour, the God of Sleep, who hates excitement of all kinds, has refused to seal our eyes with his refreshing wand. Sick with impatience, often have we sprung from a restless pillow, even in mid-winter, and looking eastward, have chid the laggard sun for his

wearisome delay. But past, long past, are those phrensied moments; our enthusiasm is no longer irrepressible,-age and frequent indulgence in the pleasure have tempered it; and, notwithstanding that our passion for shooting has suffered no sensible abatement, our slumbers are never prevented by that cause, so we slept as soundly as could be wished.

At four the next morning we arose, and exclaimed with a feeling of great pleasure, as we donned our shooting-dress,

"At length the day of days," as the renowned Kit North lovingly and emphatically terms it, "has arrived, be it ours to improve, and make the most of it."

Descending to the breakfast-parlour, we were joined by our companion, and that first, and to a sportsman, most important meal of the four, discussed, we gave directions when and where dinner should be served, put on our ammunition gear, grasped our good guns, and sallied forth to the fields.

It wanted yet half an hour to sunrise; but, to occupy that time, we had to walk nearly two miles, to the boundary of the property, ere we commenced the beat.

A slight mist overhung the earth, partially concealing the tree-tops from our view. Yet that it was clear and cloudless at a brief height above, might be gathered from the large stars that, despite the waxing light, blazed in various directions through the vapour, like crimson lamps in the far distances of the firmament. The air was moist and chilly, indicative of autumn's arrival; and the silence of nature, at this early hour, was deep and universal. Of living creatures, only the bat and busy rook were astir: cattle and sheep lay on the dew-hoary grass, or under shelter of trees and hedges, watching the skirts of Night as she fled the advance of pale-eyed Day.

Soon, however, was heard, as we passed along, the low morning note of the partridge-happily unconscious of the evil that awaited him!—at which familiar, welcome sound, our dogs, who followed quietly at heel, pricked up their ears, and tugged crossways at their couples, impatient for the sport, which they well knew was at hand. After crossing two broad, rudely-cultivated banks, which form the lower steps of that Titanic staircase to Olympus, the Black Mountains, we reached the spot where, according to our previous arrangement, we were to cast off for the day. By this time it was broad daylight;-in fact, the sun must have been up, though he was not yet visible.

Having uncoupled two wiry-limbed bony pointers, and a deepflewed setter-all stanch and fleet as ever stood on bird, or scoured a stubble, and who were rampant with joy on the occasion-we charged our long-disused, but carefully kept, gun, vaulted over a low gate, which led out of the deep, narrow lane we had been in, gave the signal of advance to our dogs, and thus the day's beat seriously began.

The field we had entered chanced to be an oat-stubble: it neither afforded game nor the traces of it. Adjoining was a rough, rushy meadow, near the middle of which our dogs made a momentary stand, then fell to creeping busily about, as they do where birds have been running.

On reaching the spot, our friend pointing at the ground, said, "Here they jugged last night; we may be sure they're not far off." "Give the dogs time," returned I, "and they'll make them out."

Cautiously and assiduously tracing the scent, which grew warmer and warmer, our dogs approached the hedge, through which it was evident the birds had crept into an adjacent wheat-stubble. After passing the fence, we had, almost immediately, a dead point.

Balancing our gun evenly in our left hand, the sharp click of the lock is next heard, we stretch out our right arm with a long swirl that we may feel our jacket puts no constraint upon us, and advance-not with throbbing heart, giddy brain, and trembling limbs, as in the days of our tyroship, but calm and cool, with the determination to work mischief.

Whirr-r-r, they rise around us, crying out with terror, ptisēek! blink, blink! as they hurry down the wind. Selecting the finest bird on our side, we keep our eye steadily on him till he has reached a sufficient distance, bring the gun to cover him, then bang! The smoke disperses-a few scattered feathers float in the sulphurous airand the gallant bird lies outstretched and lifeless on the ground.

It is the handsel of the season, and such is the impetuosity of our spirits, that boylike we could rush in to seize it. But hold! the dogs have down-charged, and the captain, who also has killed his bird, is deliberately reloading; it would be an eternal disgrace to break the etiquette of the field, so we repress our ardour as we best can, until the business of charging is completed.

"What a covey! full sixteen," exclaimed our companion.

"And noble birds, too," said I, on handling them; "not a single brown feather remaining among the blue on their necks, and the deep red horseshoe as perfect as ever it is."

"They're gone towards Dulais," rejoined he: "but are not scattered as I hoped they would be."

"Let us lose no time, but be after them: for it is clear from their strength that they'll try our patience by long flights; and to kill our six brace in time for the mail, we have quite enough to do."

In following this covey we had entered a stale fallow, overgrown with coltsfoot and thistles, with a few straggling poppies still showing their scarlet heads, and were just thinking it a likely place for a hare, when about a hundred yards in advance, an abrupt point was made.

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Fur, for a guinea!" said I, in an under tone, on nearing the dogs. "And why not feathers?"

"Because I have observed that whenever this dog of mine stands on a hare, he always bristles slightly on the back of the neck and shoulders, as you may perceive he does now-a circumstance that never happens when he points winged game."†

And a hare it proved. She lay remarkably close, and on leaving her form, was cleanly and cleverly killed by the captain.

Jugging-place is the synonyme in use amongst sportsmen for roosting-place; it is known by the heap of droppings which the birds have left.

The writer has had more than one dog that showed this peculiarity. It is not unlikely to be of frequent occurrence, but overlooked.

No doubt the excitement which attends the pursuit of game under every shape, forms the first and principal constituent of the pleasure found in partridge-shooting. Next, however, in value, comes the scenery amidst which the sport is followed, and the multiplex associations connected with it. There is not a brook, or grove, or hill, a green glade, a valley, or mountain solitude, but has a tongue for the true sportsman, and speaks, though silently, a language intelligible to his heart. It is seldom he cares to torture himself with reasoning subtleties he may even not be able to tell you where this scene, or why that scene is beautiful; but he knows it is so, and that knowledge is enough. As he traverses hill and dale, his soul expands at her intimate communion with nature,

And all goes joyful as a marriage-bell!

About eight o'clock the sun shone out with silvery splendour; the mist cleared entirely away, and the moisture on the ground which had been excessive began rapidly to evaporate.

Having found and harassed another covey, the birds were now scattered in every direction, and the work of filling the bag went prosperously on.

The sound of the gun mostly attracts a few truant, idle fellows, who come and linger about; some out of curiosity, others from a secret hope to learn where a springe may be successfully laid, or a net spread at some future convenient time. We were not without followers of this kind, and wanting markers, we selected two of the sharpest-looking of them and engaged them as such. Those only who have employed them, can properly estimate the value of good markers, especially in partridge-shooting. Their assistance makes it slaughtering work, and of course, swells the number of head killed in the day considerably.

Shortly after this, our dogs made a point in the corner of a beanfield. Up got a brace of barren birds (which are generally cocks that were unable to find mates at the pairing season); the right-hand one tumbled to our gun, whilst the left was severely wounded by our friend.

"Mark!" cried he, stooping and shading his eyes with his hand, "that's a hit bird!"

"He's shot through the back," said I, "and is beginning to tower."

After ascending, in a straight line, to a considerable height, he gave one indignant kick in the air, then fell dead and lumplike to the earth.

This peculiarity of towering, as it is called, belongs almost exclusively to the partridge; so much so, in fact, that the experience of many years has furnished but one instance of it in another species, and that was in the pheasant.

Proportionably to size, there is not a bird will carry off a heavier charge of shot than the partridge. It is really wonderful the blow he sometimes takes to kill him. Though hit apparently all abroad, legs broken and hanging down, head thrown back, and body half denuded of feathers, if brain, heart, and wings be sound, he will fly as long as life lasts him, or until he reaches that distant point where he believes himself secure. Nor is his sagacity in evading danger inferior to this remarkable tenacity of life. Often have we admired the