By the Rev. A. C. Smith. 339 
bright yellow. And again, in flight, the true Falcon soars to a great 
height, and descends with a swoop upon its prey, while the short- 
winged pursue it in a direct line near the earth; but both display con- 
siderable strength, boldness, and activity, and of both I am proud to 
enumerate a goodly list as belonging to this county. Doubtless in 
olden time, when every gentleman and lady also, had a cast or two 
of hawks, our wide open Wiltshire downs were much resorted to 
for the noble sport of Falconry, and called forth such commen- 
dations for remarkable suitability for the sport, as were bestowed 
on it a few years since by the only genuine Falconer remaining in 
the kingdom, Mr. Pells, when he exercised on the downs above 
Lavington the royal Falcons, six magnificent Peregrines, the pro- 
perty of the hereditary grand Falconer, the Duke of St. Albans. 
Hawking has long since gone by, and the hound has usurped the 
place of the Falcon; but it must have been a goodly sight to see a 
hawking-party equipped for the field, prancing steeds bearing 
gallant knights, and palfreys carrying ladies fair; the Falconer 
with his stand of hawks, and each Falcon bearing a silver bell on 
his foot, and capped with a gay hood, surmounted by a plume. 
Then when the open down was reached, and the game was flushed, 
what excitement to watch the unhooded Hawks start in pursuit, 
the rapidity of their flight, their graceful soaring in circles above 
their victim, the sudden pounce, the deadly swoop, the terrific blow; 
what galloping, (and that somewhat blindly and dangerously, with 
eyes directed upwards) to come up with the Falcon, which has 
‘bound’ to its victim, and fluttered with it to the earth; what en- 
ticing with the lure, what caressing it when recovered and safely 
hooded once more. But these days have gone by, and though our 
downs remain inviting to the sport, and the Falcons and Hawks 
range over them in considerable numbers, they are looked upon no 
longer with favour, but are persecuted, hunted, and destroyed by 
every gamekeeper and sportsman; no longer the honoured, the 
petted, and the prized, but the special objects of vengeance, the 
marked victims of the gun and the snare. And yet, though no 
longer trained for the chace, but hunted down by the preserver of 
game as his most deadly foes, who can forbear to admire the sym- 
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