Wing vs. Ground Shooting. 213 



Then there are the boys to be consid- 

 ered. How well do I remember the joy- 

 ous days of childhood when most of my 

 hours were spent in the woods, and when 

 the birds, and animals, and fishes, and 

 plants seemed to be the only things in the 

 whole world worthy of any consideration. 



I knew just where to find the old par- 

 tridge's nest in early May on the warm 

 sunny hillside among the sprouts and 

 junipers. How often I have watched the 

 mother bird on her nest ; and when she 

 skurried away I would stretch myself at 

 full length by her treasures, and with my 

 head between my little hands would gaze 

 eagerly at the eight or ten buff-colored eggs 

 and ponder over their contents, and think 

 of what they would bring forth. When my 

 visits to the nest were frequent, I used to 

 imagine that the old bird grew tamer, and 

 that she knew better than to be afraid. 



After the little downy chicks were 

 hatched I could always find the brood. If 

 they were not down by the spring brook, 

 where the fox-grapes and hellebores grew, 

 they were up along the old fence among 



