CHAPTER I 



" Then was the Douve with her Eyen Meeke ** 



I SHALL never forget the first wild pigeon 

 I shot. It was in a grove near Lenox 

 where I found the lovely bird, brave in its 

 nuptial plumage and ignorant of the ruthless- 

 ness of a boy with the first gun he ever called 

 his own in his hands. Against the dark trunk 

 of a pine-tree the pigeon was a shining mark 

 and it allowed me to come within gunshot 

 before showing signs of uneasiness. The beau- 

 tiful colors of its neck only made me more 



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