2IO A YEAR OF SPORT AND NATURAL HISTORY. 



chicks — a thunderstorm and a flooding rainfall may drown the 

 " cheepers " over a whole county by the thousands. Then, when 

 the beans and the clover grow up, and the corn crops are standing 

 green and tall in the valleys and plains, in July and August, the 

 birds show but little. Partridges run much at all seasons and fly 

 only when they must, so that, with all the wealth of summer growth 

 and their dinner table and beds, so to say, spread all round the 

 birds, one hardly guesses how many and how strong the coveys 

 may be. 



The chances for the. First of September are accordingly a most 

 agreeable subject for conversation among rustic men ; and the 

 shepherd, who at daybreak has seen the partridges sunning them- 

 selves on the upland ridges, and, having put them up, has seen 

 them wing their way quietly to the valley beneath him, counts 

 them as they fly, and marks them down in the standing corn. " I 

 seen a smartish lot on 'em " — no need to say partridges, or even 

 " birds," as the First of September draws near — " I seen a smartish 

 lot on 'em a-sunning theyselves on Clevedon Edge this morning ; " 

 and the simple remark causes a little flutter of interest in the 

 village tap-room. " Did you happen mark 'em down, shepherd ? " 

 asks the gamekeeper, who has strolled in just to pick up some 

 such scraps as this. If anyone of less social importance than the 

 squire's keeper had asked this question, the shepherd w^ould 

 doubtless give an evasive answer, but to him he is constrained 

 to tell the plain unvarnished truth. "Well, I'll tell 'ee true, 

 keeper; they fled into Squire Joyce's wuts — that's where they 

 fled, sir. I counted eighteen strongish birds." That is interesting 

 hearing to everyone in the parish, and the odds are the keeper 

 " stands a half-pint all round " on the strength of the news. 



