1 86 PHEASANT. 



into the country, and gives to the district the advantages of resident 

 wealth. The game is never forgotten, in advertisements to let or 

 sell country property; indeed, no residential estate would be complete 

 without game. Now, the game chiefly meant in all these instances 

 is the Pheasant. No other game bird is so readily procured, so 

 easily retained, or so safely to be relied upon. The Pheasant, 

 moreover, is the most ornamental of all game birds. A fine old 

 cock Pheasant jumping on the bar to open by his own weight the 

 patent feeding-box, and help himself to the maize within, is a very 

 beautiful object in the pleasure-grounds, especially when the glancing 

 rays of a summer evening's sun show off his brilliant plumage. He 

 is so completely at home, that he seems " to the vianor born," and 

 he doubtless regards the feeding-box as the natural production of 

 the soil for his especial delectation — 



The bold cock Pheasant stalk'd along the road, 

 Whose gold and purple tints alternate glow'd. 



Bloom FIELD — Spring. 



The great advantages, as well as the great necessity in these 

 days for game on estates, have thus given rise to the artificial 

 breeding and rearing of Pheasants, which of late years have been 

 carried out to so great an extent. Pheasant's eggs are now readily 

 attainable, and are imported in great numbers, either to stock an 

 estate, or to increase the number of birds, so as to provide the 

 fashionable modern amusement of battue shooting. Pheasant 

 shooting is a costly pleasure for the rich, but is not unproductive 

 of general advantage. The wholesale slaughter of reared Pheasants 

 which annually takes place, may be ridiculed, or decried as a sport ; 

 but it produces, nevertheless, a large supply of a delicious article of 

 food, which could not otherwise be procured, by the public in 

 general, at so reasonable a rate. It is therefore but false senti- 

 mentalism to say with Pope : 



See ! from the brake the whirring Pheasant springs, 

 And mounts exulting on triumphant wings : 

 Short is his joy ; he feels the fiery wound, 

 Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. 

 Ah ! what avail his glossy, varying dyes, 

 His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes. 

 The vivid green his shining plumes unfold, 

 His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold ? 



