1 1 8 GAME-BIRDS A T HOME. 



joy to the heart of the meat-hunter without the 

 expense of burning powder. Soon along the 

 bars the plover began to whistle, and before the 

 rose-colored flowers of the water-plaintain began 

 to droop, the shrill call of the yellowleg mingled 

 with the plaintive notes of the kildeer. And 

 before the white petals of the arrrowhead had 

 ceased to nod along the pools, Wilson's snipe was 

 again trotting on the shore, and soon it needed 

 but a few cold nights in the far North to bring 

 down the vanguard of the great quacking hordes 

 that would once more make your nerves tremble 

 at the sinking of the sun. 



