68 PARTRIDGES 



Had I at all picked my shots, I should not have 

 thought this any very extraordinary performance, 

 but so far from this a great number of my birds 

 were killed at long distances, and with instant- 

 aneous rapidity of shooting. I had my favourite 

 14-gauge barrels of Joe Manton's and Mr. Butt's 

 cylinder gunpowder. The same gun all day which 

 was neither cleaned afresh nor even new flinted. 



1828. Sept. 1st. Longparish. Strong east 

 wind ; ground as dry as Lundyfoofs snuff, but a 

 moderate breed of birds, and my two dogs on their 

 last legs. Therefore performed a miracle by 

 bagging 60 partridges (besides 6 more lost), 4 

 hares and 1 quail. Never in my life had such a 

 fagging day. Our army were literally worked off 

 their feed, to the joy of my commissariat ; but they 

 drank their extra hog-tub full of stiff swizzle, 

 which cost me more than the half of the sheep 

 that they left. 



3rd. By slaving like a negro from 10 till 5, I 

 contrived to satchel 48 partridges (besides 3 brace 

 lost). Weather so dry that the only plan was to 

 walk all day with both barrels cocked, and snap 

 down the birds as they rose wild from the 

 stubbles. 



6th. Was anxious to finish with 20 brace, and 

 never had such a hard run to make up the number. 

 The dogs were so done that even the falling of a 

 bird would not move them from my heels, and I 

 stood at 19 \ brace for the last hour before night- 

 fall. I had no alternative but marching up and 



