CHAP. XII. | The Partridge. 231 
this gap, your personal minute and accurate observations 
will be of no little service; although individuals, solemn 
and wise in their own conceit, may look upon some of them 
as so strange as to be altogether fabulous; and that for no 
better reason than because during all their lives— having 
exercised their faculties only in eating, drinking, and sleep- 
ing—the things related have never come under the notice 
either of their eyes or their ears.” 
We find, from a letter of Professor Dickie, that Mr. 
Smith endeavored to obtain employment for Edward as a 
preserver of British birds for the natural history collection 
in King’s-College, Aberdeen. Many kindly letters passed 
between Edward and the minister of Monquhitter, some- 
times about newly discovered birds, at other times about 
the troubles and sicknesses of their respective families. Mr. 
Smith’s suggestion that Edward should note down his ob- 
servations for publication was not, as we have seen, without 
effect, as the latter afterward became a contributor to the 
Naturalist, the Zoologist, the [bis, the Linnean Journal, 
and other natural history publications. 
In one of Edward’s articles in the Zoologist, he thus re- 
fers to a circumstance which happened during one of the 
last excursions he took with his reverend friend. He is re- 
ferring to the partridge (Perdrix cinerea). “A very cun- 
ning and faithful mother is the female; for when she has 
eggs, she never leaves her nest without hiding them so 
carefully that it is almost impossible to detect their where- 
abouts; and if you take her by surprise, away she hobbles 
on one leg, and a wing trailing on the ground, as if wound- 
ed!.... Wandering about the Waggle Hill one day with 
my friend, the Rev. Mr. Smith, I chanced to observe a moor- 
fowl squatted on the ground among the heather, close to 
my feet; in fact, I stood above her before I noticed her. 
Being summer-time, I at once guessed the nature of the 
case. On my friend coming up, I drew his attention to 
the bird over which I stood. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘she’s surely 
