PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 217 



and the endless repetition of the same 

 end-on shot compared but poorly with 

 the almost infinite variety of pace, angle, 

 and curl that driven birds offer. 



Early in the season the birds lay 

 close, and there was little or no excuse 

 for ever missing, and consequently as 

 little pleasure in killing ; later in the 

 year when the cover was down, the birds 

 rose wild, and were only difficult to kill 

 because they were at the limit of killing 

 range, and should not have been fired at 

 at all. And the dreary monotony of the 

 interminable turnip-field in which you 

 solemnly wheeled, marched, counter- 

 marched, and wheeled again for half the 

 livelong day ! As soon as you had 

 finished one half of the field and passed 

 on to the other, fresh birds were driven 

 on to the old ground, and you had to 

 retrace your footsteps and start the same 

 old evolutions all over again, till at length 

 it was with a heart-felt sigh of relief that 

 you stumbled over the last turnip by the 

 gateway and left the field you devoutly 



