MOOR BLACKBIRD NETS. 87 



of beginning yours. Finding my sooty foe too 

 many for me that he was ready enough to quaff, 

 in cherry juice, "a good conclusion to the harvest," 

 but never once to think of the sentiment that "fair 

 play is a jewel," I thought of salutiug him with a 

 little sparrow hail, of which, on making the at- 

 tempt, I observed no further effect than the pro- 

 voking of that peculiar chatter by which he is wont 

 to express his disapprobation as often as he is dis- 

 turbed in his interesting avocation. In this I felt 

 some sympathy with my antagonist, perceiving 

 that he regarded the hail not otherwise than I 

 have done certain visitors who had as little to say, 

 although they did not fail to make havoc of time, 

 and hinderance of important duty. He lost no 

 feathers, but merely an hour of harvest work: and 

 yet the loss was more apparent than real ; for, 

 getting thereby a rest for rumination and whetting 

 of teeth, he resumed, as other martyrs to small 

 hail must do, his beloved task, and with redoubled 

 quickness soon made amends for all his loss. Doubt- 

 ing whither my aim might not be too erring, I 

 enquired of an old man, who was known to the 

 premises for half a century, what in former times 

 had been done with an enemy so untractable and 

 persevering. Upon which my old friend, with a 

 shake of his grey locks, which intimated that the 

 case was a hopeless one, said, " I dinna ken; the 

 doctor used to shoot them whiles, but it never did 

 them meikle guid." 



Judging that, if no better for being shot, their 



