A USE FOR THE PARTRIDGE 



THERE is not a more pleasant time of the year than 

 the popular, ancient " First," that calls forth English- 

 men to utilise a beautiful day by killing partridges. 

 The " Twelfth " has the advantage of claiming rendez- 

 vous on the high moors where life is alone endurable 

 when August is rushing to its zenith. The delights 

 of the purpurescent moors spread interminably under 

 a blue sky are unique. But the pursuit of grouse 

 is a rare and local pastime ; the birds are rather 

 slaughtered than shot with that epicurean economy 

 that makes a small covey of partridges go such a 

 long way; and for every one that goes out after 

 the bird of the heather, probably a hundred will walk 

 standing crops or stubble for the lowlander. 



There is an unmistakable new breath in the air on 

 some early autumn day that falls as often as not 

 on the First of September. The keenness of the 

 night, with its heavy deposit of dew, has not de- 

 parted. Garish summer is just touched with one 

 flick of a sterner brush, and made, as it were, human. 

 Like Undine, it gets a soul through tribulation. 

 Dewdrop by dewdrop, the sun licks up the moisture 

 that has made turnip leaves and deep grass so crisp, 

 but suspends it in the air to cool the breezes that 

 comfort the partridge shooter in his long tramp from 

 243 



