may be regulated and kept within due bounds, so that man may not reduce their numbers to his own injury. In the case of the partridge, as well as in that of many other birds, it is fully believed that if we understood their habits aright, we should often be disposed to cherish that which we are now zealous to destroy.

The common partridge seems in an especial manner to belong to an agricultural country. Wherever the soil is extensively cultivated, there it thrives and multiplies, and with all the persecutions to which it is subjected, we never find these birds driven to make their permanent abode in wild and solitary places. Their pertinacious adherence to the same turnip-field, or to the same clover-matted stubble, has aptly been compared to that of a mountain-tribe of human beings clinging to their fastnesses in a war of extirpation.

The time of the year, the weather, and many other circumstances influence the practice of the partridge-shooter. The usual way of proceeding in search of these birds in September is to try the stubbles first, and then the potato and turnip-field, where the birds frequently bask when such fields lie contiguous to the stubble. When the shooter breaks a covey, he proceeds without loss of time to search after the dispersed birds, for the parents begin to call almost immediately on their alighting, the young ones answer, and in less than half an hour, if not prevented by the presence of the shooter and his dogs, the whole of the covey will be reassembled, probably in security in some snug corner, where the shooter least thinks of looking for them. The number of birds in a covey varies much, but is considered to average from ten to fifteen. The length of flight of a covey also differs according to the nature of the ground. In a fertile farm in a corn country, the sportsman has not any great distance to travel before he comes again upon his covey, sometimes the mere passing of a hedge will enable him to reach them, but in a very open country, where the birds have been used to a much more extensive range, a mile, or even more, has been traversed in following their flight.

Partridges are the most prolific of the wild gallinidæ, the eggs being seldom fewer than twelve in number, while they

THE PARTRIDGE.

445

are often as many as twenty, and have on several occasions greatly exceeded that number, as the following instances will show. In the year 1793 a partridge nest was found in a fallow field on the farm of Mr. Pratt, near Ferling, in Essex, with thirty-three eggs; twenty-three of the eggs were hatched, and the birds went off; the number of the eggs was ascertained before hatching, to decide a bet laid by a person who refused to credit so unusual a production. In order to cover the whole of the eggs, the female had piled up seven in a curious manner in the centre. Mr. Daniel tells us that upon a farm in Essex the following incident occurred. A partridge, instead of forming her nest as usual on the ground, chose the top of an oak pollard, and this tree too had one end of the bars of a stile fastened to it, so that the passengers along the footway, in getting over the stile, disturbed and uncovered the bird before she began to sit close. The farmer, whose name was Bell, apprised Mr. Daniel of the circumstance, which he laughed at as being the report of the workpeople, and said it was only a wood pigeon they had mistaken for a partridge; but the former, who had killed some hundreds of partridges, so positively affirmed his having beheld the bird upon the nest on the tree, and also having told the eggs to the number of sixteen, that Mr. Daniel was persuaded to ride to the spot, where the partridge was seen sitting in a few days she hatched sixteen eggs; and her brood, scrambling down the short and rough boughs which grew around the trunk of the tree, reached the ground in safety.

The affection shown by the partridge for its young is peculiarly strong and lively. Both parents seem equally assiduous, after the birds are hatched, in leading them out, and directing them to their proper food, and in protecting them by every means in their power from their enemies. Insects, larvæ and eggs are the food of young partridges; ant-eggs, in particular, seem necessary to their existence. At this period the male and female frequently sit close. together and cover the young with their wings, exhibiting such evident marks of parental tenderness, that few persons would willingly disturb or injure them in such a situation. When they are accidentally discovered, or alarmed by a dog, they act in a manner thus described by an eye-witness :

"The male first gives the signal of alarm by a peculiar distressful cry, throwing himself at the same moment more immediately in the way of danger, in order to mislead the enemy; he flies or rather runs along the ground, hanging his wings and exhibiting every symptom of debility, whereby the dog is decoyed, by a too eager expectation of an easy prey, to run further from the covey. The female flies off in a contrary direction, and to a greater distance, but soon after secretly returning she finds her scattered brood closely squatted among the grass, and collecting them with haste by her jucking she leads them from the danger before the dog has had time to return from the pursuit."

Partridges are easily tamed, but do not breed in confinement. An instance is given of one of these birds becoming so familiar in a clergyman's family where it was reared, that it would attend the parlour at breakfast and other times, and would afterwards stretch itself before the fire, seeming to enjoy the warmth as if it were its natural bask on a sunny bank. The dogs of the house never molested it, but it at last fell under the paws of a strange cat and was killed. The eggs of partridges are frequently collected and hatched under domestic hens, the broods being afterwards turned into preserves for the purpose of stocking them. In this case, the food of the young birds should at first consist of the eggs of the small ant; afterwards they should be fed with fresh curds mixed with lettuce, chickweed, or groundsel. It will be some time before they can eat grain readily. Chronicle of the Seasons.

A WONDERFUL POINTER.

"Don was nearly twelve months old before he could be hunted with at all, and he then all at once became such a riotous rascal, I had almost given him up, and began to think he never would stand, when, having tried him out one day, as I was returning home he happened to drop upon a hen pheasant and made a most brilliant point. Certainly I had a world of trouble with him, but he has amply repaid me since. He was so quick that he would hunt a field

A WONDERFUL POINTER.

before another dog could think about it. This was one remarkable point in him,-that, on entering a field, he

seemed to know by instinct where the birds would lie; for he would take a momentary survey, and then generally go straight up to them at once; an extremely pleasant dog for an idle man. You might sit on a gate while he hunted his field, and he would pretty soon tell you if there was any thing in it. His nose was so keen and good that I have seen him in a brisk wind find his birds a hundred and fifty yards off across the furrows; and this after birds were marked down, and it was known they could not have run. He was very tender-mouthed, and would always bring his game without the slightest injury. He could tell as well as myself, and sometimes better, whether a bird was hit, he would watch till he topped the hedge, and then if he once started, I always rested satisfied that I should have my bird. He would never chase a hare when she got up, unless he thought she was wounded, and then few greyhounds were fleeter.

"Some of my friends used to think I should spoil Don, from the variety of sport I used him for; such as pheasant, partridge, woodcock, snipe, hare, and any sort of waterfowl shooting, the latter especially he was very fond of. He has frequently stood a duck or a moor-hen, with the water running over his back at the time. If a rat was to be killed,

Don was sure to be ready, and as good as any terrier at a rat's-hole. To crown all, he was a rare dog for an otter, and has played a good part at the taking of two or three. In short, nothing could spoil him. He always knew his business; and, although he would rattle a wood like a lion, he was perfectly steady again the next minute out of cover. I have seen him stand two hours without blenching; and at the same time looking as eager as if he would dash in every moment. In high turnips his action was very good; he would always contrive to show himself; standing sometimes on his hind-legs only, so that his head and fore-quarters might be seen; he would never drop on his game unless it was close to him. On one occasion I was shooting with a friend, when Don came at full speed so suddenly upon a hare, that he slipped up, and laid nearly on his back; would not move, and my friend thought he was in a fit, till madam jumped up, when she was killed, and Don righted himself. So extremely punctilious was he in backing another dog; when game was found, at the moment of jumping a stile, and actually balanced himself on the stile for several seconds till he fell. But he was seldom called on to back; for if two or three of his brethren were out with him, he pretty generally found all the game himself. He would, what is termed, point single; that is, if birds lay well in potatoes or turnips, for instance, and got up one by one, he would not leave his point till all were gone, unless by a turn of the head, or a step, to show where the next bird lay: I have in this way had seven shots to him without his moving a leg. He generally stood very handsomely, with his head and stern well up, and remarkably firm and bold; as if he was conscious of his own beauty and worth.

"There are many sportsmen who sally forth solely with the idea of getting as much game as they can, and care little for their dogs as long as they do but get birds; I should term these gentlemen what that best of sportsmen, Colonel Hawker would call them, pot-hunters." For my own part I think the action of my dogs constitutes one-half of the enjoyment; and if the circumstances of a dog pointing at all be considered abstractedly, it is a matter of great admiration.