Little Partner. 



The noise, heat, and din of the city are lost; I feel the cool 

 breezes fan my cheek, as nature, in her sombre autumn garb, 

 casts the mantle of night over the living world. I hear the 

 rippling waters of Lime Creek beneath our feet as we cross the 

 old foot bridge, and feel the touch of Little Partner's hand on 

 my shoulder as we wearily climb the steep hill near home. 

 Every year in September I visit the little village and hunt over 

 the same grounds where we spent so many pleasant hours 

 happy in the thought that she and I are again in sweet com- 

 munion when on this sacred ground. 



Sports Afield. 



1371 



