252 UPLAND SHOOTING. 



An hour has passed, several shots have been fired by 

 both, and now we come together. 



"Well, what luck? You fired, let me see, sixteen 

 shots; what have you to show for them? Only nine birds, 

 you say. Well, let me tell you, that is doing right well 

 for a new hand; I have done worse myself many a time, 

 though I have done pretty well to-day. I had ten shots, 

 six single and two double ones, and have all the birds 

 here. 



"And now, as you have to leave by the next train, we 

 have only time to get home. We have no need to grumble, 

 for twenty birds out of twenty-six is a score we need 

 not be ashamed of." 



This is but a faint, a very faint, outline of many a day 

 I have had on those meadows. I fear I shall never have 

 such sport again; certainly, I am not likely to on those 

 same meadows. 



I have said that I believe the Wilson's snipe some- 

 times breeds in New Jersey. My reason for so thinking 

 is all based upon two slight incidents, coming under my 

 personal observation. On July 4, 1867, I had a relative, 

 then living in Philadelphia, Penn., come up to see if he 

 could find any woodcock on our meadows. I had little 

 hope of finding birds, for the two preceding months of 

 May and June had been very rainy. This enabled the 

 birds to remain in the little upland swamps, which at 

 other times were too dry. 



My prediction proved correct, for we found in a morn- 

 ing' s long walk only three woodcock; but, on a meadow 

 adjoining those of my old home-farm, my dogs found, 

 and I flushed, an adult Wilson's snipe. I could have shot 

 the bird easily enough, but did not molest it, for I felt sure 

 it had a nest or young near by. On the llth day of the 

 following September, I found and shot two well-grown 

 but not fully feathered snipe, not 200 yards from where 



