136 THE JERSEY COAST. 
of stray sand that sifted in through his clothes to be 
some malignant, blood-sucking, insect. 
One great advantage, however, followed from this 
discomfort—that we were up betimes next morning 
and ready for sport that soon proved equal to any 
we had experienced. In fact, so steady and well 
sustained a flight of large birds was extremely rare ; 
before our arrival the shooting had been good, and 
since excellent. There was a repetition to a great 
extent of the day previous, in many particulars of 
flight, number, and character of birds; in infinite 
modification of circumstance, there was an incessant 
variety of bewildering sport. 
No two birds ever approach the sportsman’s stand 
in precisely the same way, and there is one round of 
deliciously torturing uncertainty; the flock we are 
most certain of may turn off, the one that has passed 
and been given up, may return; the bird that has 
been carefully covered may escape, another that 
seems a hopeless chance may fall: it is these, minute 
differences, and this continual variety, that lend the 
principal charm to the sportsman’s life. 
At midday came again the congregation at the 
house, the discussion over sporting topics, the joke 
or story, and the comparison of luck. Thus passed 
the days, alike, yet different, affording undiminished 
pleasure, excitement, and instruction, with sport 
admirably adapted to the hot weather, when the 
cool, shady swamps are deserted by the woodcock. 
The English snipe have not yet arrived upon the 
meadows, and the fall shooting is still in prospective ; 
