184 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 
mottled white, runs to his side. The fierce, proud look 
forsakes him; the fiery glance in that wild eye is 
softened ; he gazes fondly, lovingly at her, and all is 
forgiven. The little flirt knew it would be. How 
pretty they look together, affianced lovers. Side by 
side they run from view. You look where they disap- 
peared, solil:quizing: ‘“* When once the young heart 
of a maiden is stolen, the maiden herself will steal after 
it soon.” 
All around you now the air will be filled with joyous 
sounds, coming from the scattered covey. Now that 
you have them separated, keep them so. Send forth 
your faithful dog, and never regret the short time you 
lost in watching these birds unawares. 
Whether or not quail are subject to domestication, 
quere ? My experience has been they are not. The 
love of freedom is so thoroughly engrafted in their na- 
ture that no amount of kindness can offset to them the 
dearest thing on earth, liberty. I have tried all manner 
of ways, devised and carried out all kinds of schemes 
to bring them into mild subjection, but without ex- 
ception have universally failed. Have carried home 
cripples, having stunned them with stones, or arrows 
when a boy; resuscitated them, bringing them out of 
insensibility by opening their mouths and breathing 
life into them ; have gently caressed and kindly cared 
for them ; kept them confined in roomy cages, supplied 
them with choicest food such as in their liberty they 
might possibly get; have constantly been in their pres- 
ence,—thinking in this way, coupled with kind affec- 
tion, I might win their confidence, but signally failed. 
To be sure, after a time, they would not flutter against 
the cage, or seek to escape from me, if I did not touch 
