THE BOY 183 



maple; a hawk circles the far-off hilltop; or on a 

 yellow birch a vireo has swung her birch-bark 

 basket; a fox has left a chicken's bone or turkey's 

 feather on the gray rock where he feasted the 

 night before; a woodcock has twice bored the black 

 mud by the wood road bridge. 



To the boy such companionship brings number- 

 less benefits. One of the best is the surprised feel- 

 ing swelling his breast and beaming in his face of 

 the comradeship implied. 



He learns so pleasantly safe and legitimate 

 methods of sportsmanship, that he will not forget 

 to practice them in coming years. For him there 

 will be no careless handling of the gun, no fool- 

 hardy feat attempted on the water, no fingerlings 

 in his creel nor unlawful game in his bag. 



He learns to love the woods, as by his father's 

 side he steals silently over their sunny slopes to 

 surprise a partridge; or as he stands by him, with 

 finger on trigger and heart in throat, under birch 

 or hemlock in October sunshine, listening to the 

 nearing bugles of the hounds. So, in like manner, 

 he loves the grass-bordered brook, from whose 

 pools the trout leaps to his father's skillful cast, 

 and the broader streams, where bass and salmon 

 play. And mingled with this love of nature and 

 her healthful recreations, there grows a stronger 

 filial affection, not likely to grow less as the years 

 increase. 



