PARTRIDGE 693 
ornithologists, a species which may be regarded as the model game- 
bird—whether from the excellence of the sport it affords in the 
field, or the no less excellence of its flesh at table, which has been 
esteemed from the time of Martial to our own—while it is on all 
hands admitted to be wholly innocuous, and at times beneficial to 
the agriculturist. It is an undoubted fact that the Partridge 
thrives with the highest system of cultivation ; and the lands that 
are the most carefully tilled, and bear the greatest quantity of 
grain and green crops, generally produce the greatest number of 
Partridges. Yielding perhaps in economic importance to the Red 
GROUSE, what may be called the social influence of the Partridge is 
greater than that excited by any other wild bird, for there must be 
few rural parishes in the three kingdoms of which the inhabitants 
are not more or less directly affected in their movements and busi- 
ness by the coming in of Partridge-shooting, and therefore a few 
words on this theme may not be out of place. 
From the days when men learned to “shoot flying” until the 
latter half of this century, dogs were generally if not invariably 
used to point out where the “covey,” as a family-party of Part- 
ridges is called, was lodged, and the greatest pains were taken to 
break in the “pointers” or “setters” to their duty. In this way 
marvellous success was attained, and the delight lay nearly as much 
in seeing the dogs quarter the ground, wind and draw up to the 
game, helping them at times (for a thorough understanding between 
man and beast was necessary for the perfection of the sport) by 
word or gesture, as in bringing down the bird after it had been 
finally sprung. There are many who lament that the old-fashioned 
practice of shooting Partridges to dogs has, with rare exceptions, 
fallen into desuetude, and it is commonly believed that this result 
has followed wholly from the desire to make larger and larger bags 
of game. ‘The opinion has a certain amount of truth for its base ; 
but those who hold it omit to notice the wholly changed circum- 
stances in which Partridge-shooters now find themselves. In the 
old days there were plenty of broad, tangled hedgerows which 
afforded permanent harbour for the birds, and at the beginning of 
the shooting-season admirable shelter or “lying” (to use the 
sportsman’s word) was found in the rough stubbles, often reaped 
knee-high, foul with weeds and left to stand some six or eight 
weeks before being ploughed, as well as in the turnips that were 
sown broadcast. Throughout the greater part of England now the 
fences are reduced to the narrowest of boundaries and are mostly 
trimly kept; the stubbles—mown, to begin with, as closely as 
possible to the ground—are ploughed within a short time of the 
corn being carried, and the turnips are drilled in regular lines, 
offering inviting alleys between them along which Partridges take 
foot at any unusual noise. Pointers in such a district—and to this 
