Workers in Woodcraft. 267 



with fresh mould upon its nose, peeps from 

 beneath the shed doorway. Drowsy bluebottles 

 buzz about the vermin larder, and under the 

 apple-trees are straw-thatched hives. Contented 

 pigeons coo and bask on the hot slates of the 

 barn roof, and bird-sounds are everywhere. 

 These blocks, upon which sit their falcons, act 

 as a reminder of an old English sport fast passing 

 away. These are merlins and peregrines, kept 

 for a friend by the keeper, who is fond of 

 hawking. The merlins can pull down partridges, 

 while the peregrines are flown at larger game. 

 No sport so exhilarating as falconry, none so 

 fascinating. 



The interior of the keeper's cottage is as 

 characteristic as its surroundings. Here are 

 guns of every description from the old- 

 fashioned fowling piece and matchlock to the 

 ponderous duck-gun. Above the chimney- 

 piece hangs a modern breechloader with 

 Damascus barrels. The keeper admires the 

 delicate mechanism of this, but deprecates the 

 spirit of the age which produced it. Such cun- 

 ningly-devised engines will make old-fashioned 

 sport, or what he calls "wild shooting," 

 extinct. By this he means the traversing of 

 rough ground in healthful anticipation of a mis- 

 cellaneous and always uncertain bag. It is this 

 very uncertainty which gives the chief zest to 

 sport. Against the walls are cases of stuffed 



