The Sense of Sight. 99 
nothing for a “bag” as such, but prefer contemplating the 
exercise of the dog’s faculties, must often have experienced 
the accuracy with which he will mark a fallen bird. Over 
and over again on the Australian creeks has my retriever, 
Carlo I. (grandfather of the subject of the illustration), cor- 
rectly marked a fallen duck among beds of reeds, or swamp 
grass, when I have far overwalked the spot or missed the 
direction. One morning, in Moreton Bay, when the tide 
was out half a mile on the mud flats, a long shot at a teal 
failed to bring him down; he flew straight out to seaward, 
the dog intently watching him while I put another charge 
into the antiquated muzzle loader. Ah! the despised “spout!” 
Many a year since I handled one now; but how nicely that 
deliberate measuring out of powder and shot rested the dog, 
steadied our nerves, and gave us time for, reflection. If 
ever I find another opportunity for wild shooting over such 
a dog as that, I will put aside the modern weapon and once 
more take to the old “ Purdey,” converted from a flint to a 
percussion, with which my father more than half a century 
ago astonished the Cambridgeshire gunners by his perfor- 
mances on the snipe. That venerable weapon is as sound 
as ever, thanks to loving care; but it must not be desecrated 
by a modern pheasant batiue or a grouse drive. Perhaps it 
may yet renew its youth in company with a first-rate retriever, 
and in the hands of one who still wants several good years 
to the half century. 
Meanwhile the teal is flying seaward and has become a 
mere speck. I put up the small binocular which I always 
carry in a special pocket, ready set to focus, and watch him. 
Presently he towers a few yards and falls dead. I look at the 
dog; he has seen it too, and turns to me with a whining 
entreaty to be after it. Is it worth while to try? The mud 
is firm and safe, though cut up by little creeks; I therefore 
let him see what he can do, and, with a wave of my hand 
he is away on what I think an unlikely quest. Across the 
mud flat he races, in and out of the pools, keeping the 
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