WOODCOCK FIRE-IIUNTING. 229 



" temperate," and the fog rolls off the cold water into 

 the river like steam ; an old " fire-liunter " says, '• this is 

 just the night." 



Wliiz — whiz — hallo ! What's here ? Sambo strike 

 a light, and hoist it over your head. Now, friend, place 

 yourself behind the torch, on the left, both of us in the 

 rear to court the shade. Now, torch-bearer, lead on. 

 Whiz — bang — whiz, bang — two woodcock in a minute. 

 Bang, bang. Heavens, this is murder ! Don't load too 

 heavy — let your charges be mere squibs, and murder 

 away, — the sport is fairly up. 



The birds show plainly from three to ten paces all 

 around you, and you can generally catch them on the 

 ground, but as they rise slowly and perpendicularly 

 from the glare of the light, wifll a flickering motion, 

 you can bring them down before they start off like ar- 

 rows into the surrounding darkness. Thank the stars 

 they do not fly many paces before they again alight, so 

 that you can follow the same bird or birds until every one 

 is destroyed. Bang, bang — how exciting — don't the birds 

 look beautiful as they stream up into the light ; the 

 slight reddish tinge of their head and breast shining for 

 an instant in the glare of the torch like fire. 



Ha! see that stream of gold, bang — and we have a 

 meadow-lark, the bright yellow of its breast being more 

 beautiful than the dull colors of the woodcock. And I 

 see, friend, you have bagged a quail or two. Well, 

 such things occasionally happen. Two hours sport, and 



