FAMILY PARTIES 



' The First ' means always and everywhere in England, 

 September the ist, not New Year's Day; and its coming 

 seems to interest English people who have never shot off a 

 gun, hardly less than the sportsman. And indeed the First 

 begins a new year, heralds change as definitely as any date 

 that can be named. Our games alter. Cricket ceases, shoot- 

 ing begins. The face of the country is new, and what was 

 hidden is now open. 



It is true that the fixing of the limits of the close season 

 for birds, and yet more for fish, has been rather haphazard ; 

 and not all the dates are the best dates. Five times out of 

 six September ist is too early for shooting partridges. The 

 corn is not all cleared ; and it ' goes against the grain ' 

 in more than the proverbial sense, to be abroad shooting 

 partridges when men are sweltering and ' swinking ' — if that 

 fine old word may be revived — about the stooks. The seed 

 clover is just approaching ripeness. Half the purple heads 

 perhaps have been fertilised by the bees, and have fallen 

 limply downwards while the seed is forming, and out of the 

 brown mass the remaining unwedded flowers stand up sparse 

 and erect, like bright-headed pins in a pincushion. Every 

 man who walks through the field scatters a deal of seed, and 

 without exception it is the most valuable crop that grows 

 on the farm. It is among the most beautiful too. There is 

 no scent like the scent of a great acreage of clover in flower. 



