PARTRIDGE SHOOTING. 169 



friend of ours, who, with a companion, had 

 what was termed rare sport, in hunting a brood 

 of guinea fowls, which had been hatched and 

 gone wild in the woods of New Jersey. There 

 was an abundance of brush, and the birds laid 

 well after their first fright, and were all killed 

 over points.* 



In some parts of the old world where game 

 are strictly preserved, the disposition of the do- 

 mestic fowl to relapse into a wild state has often 

 been noticed. An anecdote of the kind was 

 related to us several years ago by the son of a 

 deceased oberjagermeister of the Duke of Hesse 

 D'Armstadt. A common hen had hatched out 

 a brood of twenty chicks in a remote part of the 

 park, and when discovered, both the mother 

 and her progeny, which were nearly full grown, 



* We once shot for several seasons with a pet pointer, who would 

 stand any bird to which his attention was particularly directed, 

 from a small sand-piper to a tame turkey. It was very apparent, 

 however, from the comic look which his countenance assumed, that 

 Toby comprehended the matter, entering into the spirit of the 

 frolic merely in obedience to his master's whims, and that in his 

 unrestrained, sober moods, he considered such foolery as entirely 

 beneath the line of his business. To cats, indeed, he had an 

 undisguised aversion, and would hunt them through the stable- 

 yard, or stand them staunchly in the field. Nothing appeared to 

 rejoice his heart more, than to be in at the death of a vagrant cat 

 detected in a poaching expedition, and if allowed to take a morsel 

 of her hair, he asked nothing further of fate. 



