MY OLD DOG TRIM. 85 



induce me to follow to the next corner, a few rods to the 

 right. I was vexed at, what I then thought, his sullen 

 humor, and, breaking a stick, gave him a beating. As soon 

 as I let go of his collar he made a bolt for the next corner, 

 and came to a point just at its edge, and turned back his head 

 to see if I was coming. I followed mechanically, feeling very 

 uncomfortable, and that somehow I had done wrong. When 

 I came up with him he broke his point, and making a detour 

 tog et the wind, he soon had the bird fast. I stepped in 

 ahead, and as soon as the bird rose I knew that it was the 

 one that I thought I had marked so correctiy, as I had shot 

 at it and cut a feather or two from its wing, which 

 caused it to make a peculiar whistling sound. At the first 

 flutter of its wings, there was such a revulsion of feeling 

 came over me as I wish never to experience again ; dropping 

 my gun 1 rusbed back to the dog and throwing my arms 

 around his neck tearfully promised him that never more 

 would we have any misunderstanding. Trim appeared to 

 realize what was passing in my mind; giving me a loving 

 look, out of his wondrous, great brown eyts, he licked my 

 face, something he had never done before. From this time 

 forward we were in perfect accord, and I never allowed any 

 doubt in my mind to influence me when he intimated to the 

 contrary. As the season was far advanced I had but few 

 more days' sport, but they were replete with a wonderful 

 feeling of complete enjoyment, such as I had never ex- 

 perienced befi re. 



Although Trim started off in such grand form he improved 

 visibly every time we went out, and it was with deep regret 

 that I hung up my gun at the close of the season. I was not 

 aware how deep a hold my sporting proclivities had upon 

 me, until I could no longer gratify them. So fascinating had- 

 been the sport, enjoyed in the last few weeks, it was a long 

 time before I could think or talk about anything else. 



Many moons waxed and waned, and still in my dreams the 

 rear of the swift winged grouse, as they rose and burst 

 through the tangled covert, only to be quickly brought down 

 by my unerring aim, and the beautiful and unique position 



