96 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 
mon haunts of game,—not unseasonably to destroy, but to 
admire and observe the progress of this portion of crea- 
tion, which affords some of earth’s best pleasures; and it 
is of no little satisfaction, that my solitary movements are 
frequently enlivened by the voice of my favourite bird, 
the Partridge. But a few days since, during one of my 
walks, I heard and saw five pairs of these interesting birds, 
within a mile of one of the ferries opposite Philadel- 
phia. Whether they had been sustained through the 
winter by some benevolent hand, or had survived its seve- 
rities from their own resources, I am not able to say;— 
but to those who delight in these things, it must be grati- 
fying to learn of the existence of numbers of these birds; 
indeed the prospect of game for next winter is favourable— 
but I fondly hope that Sportsmen will exercise patience 
and forbearance towards the Partridge for one more year, 
and let time repair the ravages of past winters; we then shall 
have our usual fall shooting in plenitude. It is also to be 
hoped that farmers will avoid the destruction of the nests 
of these birds, during the harvest season; for, want of care 
in mowers by cutting over the nest, and sometimes destroy- 
ing the parent birds, numbers of broods are prevented, 
which might be avoided by cutting around, and leaving 
sufficient covering about the nest; the old birds would then 
rear their young with as much perseverance as though 
they had not been disturbed. 
Often, too, in the precincts of this city, when passing 
some retired spot, I startle the Pheasant, which by the 
wonderful swiftness of its flight, is lost to view in a 
moment. How closely allied are solitude and the Phea- 
sant!—and when it occurs that I spring this bird from its 
shady retreat, although by emerging from the thicket I 
would be brought in view of the habitations of an hun- 
dred thousand souls, yet I feel myself removed, far from 
civilization, to the loneliness of the mountains. 
I have also been much diverted at the timidity and 
pranks of the Rabbit; these little animals may always be 
seen at a short distance from town, towards the close of 
day, when the dazzling influence of the sun cannot affect 
their sight, along the paths and by-roads which lead 
through bush-lands, and beside woods. Frequently, when 
seated on a stump, or little mound of earth, I have been 
amused, on the approach of twilight, at the egress of these 
little creatures from the bushes into the path,—when, by a 
sudden stop, they will sometimes rise on their hinder-feet, 
prick forward their suspicious ears, to listen if danger is 
near, then give a few jumps, and act in this manner again. 
Should one be intruded on at this time, by another of its 
kind, a salutation commonly ensues, by a low, growling 
noise, and a thumping of the earth with their hinder-feet, 
and after eyeing each other for a few moments, one will 
lead off, and, followed quickly by the other, will make a 
few rapid and circuitous routes through the bushes, and 
return again to the first spot, and undergo the same cere- 
mony as before. Sometimes a third coney will present 
himself, and divide the couple, and interchange salutations 
with one of the former party. Their actions, I think, are 
performed more in a playful than an angry mood. 
Such are the little incidents which occur in my favourite 
walks, and these, as well asa thousand pleasing trifles, 
may be witnessed, from every bird, that flits from limb to 
limb, or bush to bush, by the lover of rural things. 
Rusricus. 
Philadelphia, June 8th, 1832. 
CATCHING WILD ASSES IN EGYPT. 
On both sides of the path, (midway between Cairo and 
Surat,) troops of Wild Asses stood looking at us, and seem- 
ingly unfearful of any hostility, almost inviting our ap- 
proach, They were beautifully striped, but seemed dull 
and stupid to adegree greater than that of their kind else- 
where. I however expected an active scene in their pur- 
suit, but on the contrary, the manner of catching them is 
dull, spiritless, and unanimated; and I had nothing to do 
but look on. To a person of my ardent temperament, 
this was of course tiresome to the last degree. On a sig- 
nal being given, an attendant on Suleiman advanced from 
the train, and drew from his pouch, a bottle filled to the 
brim with a black muddy liquid, in taste and effect resem- 
bling opium. This he poured (through a reed, in order to 
regulate the quantity) on a Papyrus leaf, which he plucked 
from the road-side, and placed it in a conspicuous situation; 
the animals for which it was intended keeping aloof, but 
attentively regarding our motions. Suleiman then called 
aloud, ‘‘ kiachef osmyn kraal,” and we gallopped on 
about ten paces from the place of our former halt; we stop- 
ped our camels again, and looked round; the Wild Asses 
had eagerly advanced towards the spot where the Papyrus 
lay, and one of them, after a taste, swallowed it altogether. 
He then snorted, looked wistfully towards us for more, 
and advanced a few steps, but in a little time fell down 
stupified from the effects of his draught. Two or three of 
our brawniest mamalukes then dismounted, with a huge 
cloak of leather, and laying the animal in it, carefully tied 
him up, leaving merely a breathing place, and strapped 
him on to my camel like a bale of goods; a ceremony at 
which I could not restrain myself from laughing hear- 
tily— Buchanan’s ‘ Letters from the indaman Con- 
tinent.”’ 
