AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 
some of the contents of one of my barrels, and fell. I 
marked the spot, and in my anxiety to bag the little vic- 
tim, proceeded directly to the place; my imagination ra- 
pidly sketching out the delight with which the fair lady, 
for whose service I intended my prize, would contemplate 
it about 9 o’clock, when nicely broiled, with plenty of 
fresh butter, and a little black pepper. And here let me 
hint to cur young sportsmen, that (however much they 
may retrench in the article of supper, for the ladies, when 
they are managers of the public balls, and deem the fair 
sex too ethereal to eat any thing but jellies and syllabubs, ) 
a present of a brace or two of game, is not unacceptable 
to the most sylph-like of their female friends. The way 
to tempt the appetite with a partridge, is to cook it as I 
have described, and flanked by a slice of bread and small 
plate of pickle, place it upon a waiter and send it in. But 
to return from this digression. 
Although I marked the spot where my bird fell, I was 
unable to find it. I called my companion, and we called 
our dogs. For several minutes we kept the dogs ‘hie 
finding”? upon a space about ten feet square, where the 
grass was long and silky, but at length they fairly gave it 
up. But my companion being of a persevering nature, re- 
fused to be baffled, and at length found the crippled bird 
hid in a tuft’ of grass. 
Some time afterwards, we came across another covey, 
which was in a hedge. When the birds got up, we had 
each of us a shot, although on different sides of the hedge, 
and each one brought down his bird. I saw mine scram- 
ble into the hedge, and warned by the previous occur- 
rence of the difficulty of finding the game, I put the dogs 
to work. They came toastand. The bird was dead. 
I got over the fence to assist my companion, who com- 
plained that he could not find his bird, although it was in 
a field with very short grass. We searched; the dogs 
smelt about, but in vain. After looking for a long time, 
I proposed to give it up, and was actually moving off, 
when by a mere accident, we discovered the little sufferer 
alive. The dogs must have passed nearly over him. 
Having marked the spot where some of the birds put 
down, we moved forward to give them another unwel- 
come interruption. I had a fair shot, and finding my 
bird continue to fly, exclaimed, ‘‘ mark that bird—he will 
* not survive that shot.”? He put down ina marshy, reedy 
place, at least a hundred yards off. We proceeded leisurely 
onward, and found the bushes and briers pretty thick. 
The dogs stood at once. Upon examination the bird was 
dead. 
If it be said, that our dogs were good for nothing, and 
therefore could not mark the crippled birds: I answer, they 
found them when dead; and I confess that the occur- 
259 
rences I have mentioned, could not well have been more 
strongly to the point, if the ground had been selected by 
way of experiment. In a field nearly open, they missed 
a living bird; in a close bushy place, they instantly found 
a dead one.—American Turf Register. 
SLEEP OF ANIMALS DURING WINTER. 
In the cold season nature being deprived of so many 
creatures, which rendered it beautiful and animated, ap- 
pears dead. Most of the animals that have disappeared 
are buried in a profound sleep for the winter. This is 
the case, not only with snails, but bugs, ants, flies, spiders, 
caterpillars, frogs, lizards, and serpents. It is a mistake 
to suppose that the ants lay up provisions for the winter. 
The least cold numbs them, and they remain in that state 
till the return of spring. Of what use then would their 
stores be, since nature has prevented their requiring food 
in winter? What they collect in summer, with so much 
care, is not for their subsistence. They use it as mate- 
rials to build their habitations. ‘There are also many 
birds, who, when food begins to fail, hide themselves 
under ground, or in caves, to sleep all the winter. It is 
at least asserted, that, before winter, the shore-swallows 
hide under ground, the wall-swallows in the hollows of 
trees, or old buildings, and the common swallows go to 
the end of ponds, and fasten themselves in pairs to some 
reeds, where they remain lifeless and motionless till they 
are revived by the return of fine weather. There are 
also some beasts, which bury themselves in the ground at 
the end of summer. The most remarkable of them is the 
mountain-rat, which generally makes its abode in the 
Alps. Though it loves to be on the highest mountains, 
in the region of ice and snow, it is sooner numbed with 
cold than any other animal; for which reason, it retires 
about the end of September, or the beginning of October, 
into its subterraneous lodging, to remain there till April. 
There is much art and precaution in the plan of their 
winter-residence. It is a sort of gallery, the two branches 
of which have each their particular opening, and both 
terminate in a place without any, where they live. This 
dwelling place is lined with moss and hay. They make 
no provision for winter, as it would be useless to them. 
Before they enter their winter quarters, they prepare 
themselves each a bed of moss and hay; and then, having 
well closed the entrance into their houses, they compose 
themselves to sleep. As long as this state of insensibility 
lasts, they absolutely live without eating. At the begin- 
ning of winter, they are so fat, that some of them weigh 
