A BOBWHITE FAMILY 



NE bright spring 

 morning while the 

 grass and leaves were 

 yet heavy with dew, and 

 the air was still, as if the world were hushed in the pres- 

 ence of such a perfect day, a fine male partridge walked the 

 top rail of a farm fence and loudly whistled his favorite 

 note. ''Bobwhite, Bobwhite,'' he seemed to say. 



Over the meadow land and the cornfield floated the call. 

 Down the lane and through the plum orchard it rang until 

 it reached the ears of Farmer Levering standing in the 

 doorway of his house. A smile rested on the good man's 

 face, for forty years of toil in the fields had not worn from 



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