184 MONTAUK POINT. 



total for the day of sixty plover and one bass. We 

 sink to sleep that night with the proud conscious- 

 ness that our first day's plover-shooting has been a 

 great success; our heart prays silently for a con- 

 tinuance of our good fortune, and we indulge in 

 sweet thoughts of home, and the pleasure our return 

 laden with spoils will cause, when our friends greet 

 us and them at the social board. 



The next day is as delightful ; the sweet, thrilling 

 music again fills the air at short intervals ; again our 

 trusty breech-loader sends its charge into the thick- 

 est of the "brown," or cuts down the straggler look- 

 ing for " former companions all vanished and gone." 

 Again we call the swift-travelling flock from the 

 very zenith, or whistle our lips into a blister, endea- 

 voring to attract the wary knowing ones that pause 

 to look, only to flee the faster ; and the night finds 

 us with a still larger bag, but without a bass. So 

 eager have we become, so fearful that we should lose 

 a shot, and judging by the accumulating clouds in 

 the east that on the morrow it may storm, that we 

 stay out all day, except the necessary moments for 

 our meals, and give no thought to the monsters of 

 the deep. 



Nor were we mistaken ; the morrow comes, the 

 gathering storm has broken, and no creature of 

 mortal mould can face its fury at least no bird, 

 with any pretensions to common sense or respecta- 

 bility, would imperil his plumes by an unnecessary 

 exposure to such an ordeal. So with forced patience, 

 we get through the live-long day as best we can ; 



