AUTUMN PHEASANT SHOOTING. 193 



AUTUMN PHEASANT SHOOTING. 



"It is brilliant Autumn time, the most brilliant time of all, 

 When the gorgeous woods are gleaming ere the leaves begin to fall ; 

 When the maple boughs are crimson, and the hickory shines like gold, 

 When the noons are sultry hot, and the nights are frosty cold ; 



When the country has no green but the sword-grass by the rill, 

 And the willows in the valley, and the pine upon the hill ; 

 When the pippin leaves the bough, and the sumach's fruit is red, 

 And the Quail is piping loud from the buckwheat where he fed ; 



When the sky is blue as steel, and the river clear as glass, 

 When the mist is on the mountain, and the network on the grass ; 

 When the harvests all are housed and the farmer's work is done, 

 And the woodland is resounding with the spaniels and the gun." 



ANON. 



|F all the sports with dog and gun there are but few 

 in which nature presents such charms, beauty and 

 scenery, to an observant sportsman, as the sport of 

 Pheasant shooting in Autumn, in America. Among 

 mountains, hills, ravines, rocky rifts, and secluded wood- 

 land dells, amidst moss-covered rocky hillsides, where 

 mountain springs, and small running streams abound, shel- 

 tered by the boughs of pine, hemlock, laurel, and other ever- 

 greens, amidst woodland foliage, rich and ripe, with every 

 tint of Autumn shade and color, among mountain rills, 

 streams, and brooks, and waterfalls clear as crystal, among 

 these native haunts of the Pheasant, nature reveals her 

 sweetest charms, and most beautiful scenery. Here in 

 Autumn she revels in her most luxurious garb, and mocks 

 the feeble efforts of the Poet's pen, the Painter's eye, and 

 Artist's pencil to portray her inimitable splendor. Among 

 such landscapes the true sportsman will conduct you with 

 dog and gun, without a thought, for this is the place, as a 

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