My Boyhood Among the Pigeons 5 



group of English woodcock, on the other a setter ram- 

 pant. Hanging at my left side by a green cord with a 

 tassel or two is my fluted copper powder flask, ready 

 to measure out two and three-fourths drams of coarse 

 Dupont or Curtis & Harvey powder. 



"My pockets are full of Ely's black-edged wads, for 

 I am a young nabob of sportsmen, let me tell you, and 

 I scorn to use tow or bits of newspaper for wadding. 

 My vest pocket holds the caps, G. D.'s or Ely's again, 

 for didn't I tell you that I was a nabob. The piece de 

 resistance of this outfit Is the game bag, the pride of my 

 eye, for it was a Christmas present, and this is its maiden 

 shooting trip. Suspended over the left shoulder so that 

 it will hang well back of the right hip, the strap that car- 

 ries it Is broad and with many holes for the wondrous 

 buckle which can be shifted to hang it in the most com- 

 fortable place, wherever that Is, for when It is loaded 

 with game It will choke me almost to death, no matter 

 how I adjust It. This noble bag has two pockets, one 

 of them for luncheon, and on the outside Is a netted 

 pocket, easy to get into and keeping the birds cool. I 

 nearly forgot to mention its magnificent fringe, which 

 hangs down from both sides and the bottom like the 

 war-bags of an Indian chief. 



"My companions are rigged out in much the same 

 fashion. They are grown men, however, for I don't 

 remember any other boys who shot pigeons with me. 

 Holabird or khaki hunting suits are as yet unknown, and 



