74 PARTRIDGES 



enough to make us blush for our own 

 generation of sportsmen, young gentlemen 

 still on the sunny side of thirty, who 

 call an eight o'clock breakfast "getting 

 up in the middle of the night," must have 

 a motor to take them within a few yards 

 of the first drive, their guns carried for 

 them from one stand to the next, and 

 an aluminium shooting seat to support 

 their weary forms at every halt. Truly 

 there were giants in those days. 



The match of most personal interest 

 to myself is naturally that shot between 

 England and Scotland, in which my home 

 was selected to represent Scotland. From 

 the windows of the room wherein I write 

 can be seen the outline of a long wood 

 of dark firs, where grand sport is to be 

 had with the pigeon on a blustering 

 winter's evening. This wood owes its 

 name Waterloo to the great slaughter 

 of partridges effected in the then newly- 

 planted strip by Lord Kennedy on the 

 day of his match. 



My grandfather, Sir William Maxwell 



