Young Partridges. 49 



lads have cut their names with their great clasp- 

 knives. 



Sometimes in the evening, later on, when the 

 wheat is nearly ripe, such a shepherd lad will sit 

 under the trees there ; and as you pass along the 

 track comes the mellow note of his wooden whistle, 

 from which poor instrument he draws a sweet sound. 

 There is no tune no recognizable melody : he plays 

 from his heart and to himself. In a room doubtless 

 it would seem harsh and discordant ; but there, the 

 player unseen, his simple notes harmonize with the 

 open plain, the looming hills, the ruddy sunset, as if 

 striving to express the feelings these call forth. 



Resting thus on the wild thyme under the haw- 

 thorn, partly hidden and quite silent, we may see 

 stealing out from the corn into the fallow hard by 

 first one, then two, then half a dozen or more young 

 partridge chicks. With them is the anxious mother, 

 watching the sky chiefly, lest a hawk be hovering 

 about ; nor will she lead them far from the cover of 

 the wheat. She stretches her neck up to listen and 

 look : then, reassured, walks on, her head nodding 

 as she moves. The little ones crowd after, one 

 darting this way, another that, learning their les- 

 son of life how and where to find the most suitable 

 food, how to hide from the enemy : imitation of the 

 parent developing hereditary inclinations. 



At the slightest unwonted sound or movement, 

 she first stretches her neck up for a hurried glance, 

 then, as the laboring folk say, ' quats ' i.e. crouches 

 down and in a second or two runs swiftly to cover, 

 using every little hollow of the ground skilfully for 

 concealment on the way, like a practised skirmisher. 

 4 



