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KIDD'S LONDON JOURNAL. 



the most eager interest and curiosity in the 

 pursuit, quartering the ground from right to 

 left. After walking about half an hour, he sud- 

 denly quested, and on going up to him I found 

 him at the edge of a swamp, among a clump of 

 white cedar-trees, to one of which he had evi- 

 dently tracked some description of bird ; for he 

 was looking stedfastly up into the tree, and 

 barking with the utmost eagerness. I looked 

 attentively, but nothing whatever could I disco- 

 ver. I walked round the tree, and round again ; 

 then observed the dog, whose eyes were evi- 

 dently directly fixed upon the object itself; and 

 still was I disappointed in perceiving nothing. 

 In the meantime, the dog, working himself up 

 to a pitch of impatience and violence, tore with 

 his paws the trunk of the tree, and bit the rotten 

 sticks and bark, jumping and springing up at 

 intervals towards the game; and five minutes 

 had at least elapsed in this manner, when all at 

 once I saw the eye of the bird. There it sat, or 

 rather stood, just where Rover pointed, in an 

 attitude so perfectly still and fixed, with an out- 

 stretched neck, and a body drawn out to such an 

 unnatural length, that twenty times must I have 

 overlooked it, mistaking it for a dead branch, 

 which it most closely resembled. It was about 

 twenty feet from the ground on a bough, and 

 sat eight or ten feet from the body of the tree. 

 I shot it, and in the course of the morning killed 

 four more, which I came upon much in the same 

 way as I did upon the first. At one of these, my 

 gun flashed three times, without its attempting 

 to move; after which I drew the charge, loaded 

 again, and killed it. The dog all the time was 

 barking and baying with the greatest persever- 

 ance. There is, in fact, no limit to the stu- 

 pidity of these creatures; and it is by no means 

 unusual, on finding a whole covey on a tree in 

 the Autumn, to begin by shooting the bird which 

 happens to sit lowest, and then to drop the one 

 above him, and so on till all are killed," 

 Very different indeed from our straggling coveys, 

 are the assemblages of these birds in America. 

 Near FortChurchill,on the shores of Hudson's Bay, 

 in the winter season, they may be seen by thou- 

 sands feeding on the willow-tops peeping above 

 the surface of the snow. The crew of a vessel 

 wintering there, killed one thousand eighthundred 

 dozen in the course of the season. They are pro- 

 vided with a plumage well calculatedfor the severe 

 weather to which they are exposed, each feather 

 being in a manner doubled, so as to give addi- 

 tional warmth. Our British Partridges huddle 

 together in the stubbles; but these birds shelter 

 and roost by burrowing under the snow : in 

 the snow, too, they practise a common mode of 

 escaping observation and pursuit, as they will 

 dive under it as a Duck does in water, and rise 

 at a considerable distance. The Indians, as well 

 as European settlers, catch them in great abund- 

 ance, in traps, and live upon them throughout 

 their long winter. 



From the earliest ages, Partridges seem 

 indeed to have been a favorite food, and the 

 pursuit of them as favorite an amusement. In 

 the Scriptures, " to hunt the Partridge on the 

 mountains," is alluded to as a well-known sport; 

 and to this day, though not exactly with the 

 same weapon, it is practised by the Arabs of 



Mount Lebanon. They make a slight square 

 frame of wood, of about five feet in height, over 

 which they stretch an ox-hide, perforated in 

 three or four places. The ox-hide is moved qui- 

 etly, in an upright position, along the ground, 

 and the Arab, concealing himself behind it, it 

 is hidden from the view of the game, which un- 

 suspectingly allow the sportsman to come within 

 shot of them. The Arab seeing through one of 

 the apertures, quietly protrudes the muzzle of 

 his long musket through another hole, and firing 

 upon the birds, as they feed in coveys upon the 

 ground, kills a great many of them. 



In conclusion, we may remark that we 

 have rarely met with a more varied and in- 

 teresting book on animals than this. It 

 is, and ought to be popular. 



DOMESTIC COGITATIONS, 

 BXITTEEED TOAST. 



Who is there amongst us, that can be in- 

 different to the charms of Buttered Toast? Toast, 

 made just as the aromatic virtues of souchong 

 and hyson are becoming palpable to the olfac- 

 tory organs at tea-time? Tea! why we could 

 occupy a whole Journal in discoursing of thai 

 social meal alone, — independent of its " ad- 

 juncts." But we must confine ourselves to the 

 matter before the house; and that is, toast— 

 buttered toast. 



We do not advocate buttered toast for break- 

 fast, unless indeed ample time be allowed for the 

 proper discussion of that happy " spread." It is 

 to the tea-table, par excellence, that we give it 

 a hearty welcome. We begin to think of it im- 

 mediately after dinner; the thoughts seldom 

 wander from it till the body is travelling home- 

 wards ; and when our " household gods" throw 

 open wide the doors to bid us welcome — then do we 

 mentally appreciate the '" coming treat in store." 

 Our hat, coat, stick, or umbrella, we leave to 

 some one of our rosy boys to dispose of, whilst 

 we hasten to do homage to the delightful pre- 

 parations of the lady of the house. We hardly 

 need say, after this, that we do not dine at home ; 

 but we nevertheless contrive to make a " very 

 sensible meal." New-laid eggs, ham, streaky 

 bacon, with tea and buttered toast — are things 

 not to be slightly spoken of ! But to the grand 

 subject, — Toast. 



Let us first explain what makes bad toast of a 

 slice of bread, or rather what makes it no toast 

 at all, but merely a piece of bread with two 

 burned surfaces, more wet and waxy in the heart 

 than ever, and which not a particle of butter 

 will enter, but only remain on the surface, and, 

 if vexed with additional fire, turns to a rancid 

 oil of the most unwholesome description. If the 

 slice of bread is brought into close contact with 

 a strong fire, the surface becomes covered with, 

 or rather converted into, charcoal, before the heat 

 produces any effect upon the interior of the slice. 

 This being done, the other side is turned and has 

 its surface converted into charcoal, in the same 

 manner. Charcoal, as everybody knows, is one 

 of the worst conductors, if not the very worst 

 conductor of heat; and on this account it is used 



