410 With Rod and Gun in New England 



score in a day, by one man alone in a boat, is sixty-one, and for two men, 

 eighty-five. At the Cape two hundred and fifty have been shot before noon 

 by one man, but these were what are known as " bedded fowl," that is, birds 

 not on their Might, but temporarily resident, and feeding in a certain 

 locality, to which they will continue to return when driven off. The proper 

 charge of powder and shot for the birds varies with individual judgment. 

 The writer considers that with a No. 10 gauge gun, a most effective charge 

 is five drams of powder and one and one-fourth ounces of No. 5 shot. It is 

 a good plan, however, to have cartridges loaded with larger sized shot, 

 which can readily replace those already in the gun if occasion requires. 

 In six seconds cartridges can be removed and others substituted. 



I cannot conclude this short sketch in any better way than by quoting 

 William Cullen Bryant's beautiful poem, entitled : 



TO A WATER FOWL. 



Whither, 'midst falling dew, 

 While glow the heavens with the last steps of day. 

 Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue 



Thy solitary way ! 



Vainly the fowler's eye 

 Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, 

 As, darkiy painted on the crimson sky, 



Thy figure floats along. 



Seek 'st thou the plashy brink 

 Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 

 Or where the rocking billows rise and sink 



On the chafed ocean side? 



There is a power whose care 

 Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, 

 The desert and illimitable air, — 



Lone wandering, but not lost. 



All day thy wings have fanned, 

 At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, 

 Vet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, 



Though the dark night is near. 



And soon that toil shall end ; 

 Soon shalt though find a summer home, and rest, 

 And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, 



Soon o'er thy sheltered nest. 



Thou 'rt gone, the abyss of heaven 

 Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet on my heart 

 Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, 



And shall not soon depart : 



He who, from zone to zone, 

 Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 

 In the long way that I must tread alone, 

 Will lead my steps aright. 



