MY FIRST TWO PARTRIDGES. 



Editor Recreation : 



When I was a boy I lived with my parents 

 on a small rocky and hilly farm, near the lit- 

 tle town of Phillipsport, within one hundred" 

 miles of New York City. Ever since I was 

 a very small boy I had looked forward to 

 my sixteenth year, when, I considered, I 

 should be old enough to handle a gun and 

 go hunting. My father had, at that time, an 

 old muzzle-loading, double-barreled shotgun, 

 of about nine pounds' weight, which 1 was al- 

 lowed to use. It was a good enough shooting 

 gun, when properly loaded — the medium load 

 of three drachms of powder would fill its re- 

 quirements — but twice the ordinary wad was 

 needed, and after a long day's hunt a horse 

 would be wanted to carry the weapon. 



In the fall of the year following my six- 

 teenth birthday, I thought I would try my 

 luck, and I waited impatiently for the first 

 day of open season for partridge, when I de- 

 termined to make my first attempt in search 

 of the coveted game. My father's consent 

 having been obtained, I began my prepara- 

 tions on the evening before the much-longed- 

 for day, by taking the old fowling-piece down 

 from its hooks on the wall and giving it such 

 a vigorous cleaning and polishing as restored 

 some of the glory of its early days, while my 

 mother experienced a series of nervous 

 shocks during the operation. 



I required no maternal persuasions to rout 

 me out of bed the next morning. I was up 

 before dawn, w ithout being called, and hur- 

 ried through my morning chores with eager 

 haste. Even my breakfast — which to a healthy 

 boy of sixteen is an important item in the 

 day's program — was quite forgotten in my de- 

 sire to be off to the woods. 



The haunts of the partridge were not un- 

 known to me. Although hitherto not privi- 

 leged to disturb them, I had often watched 

 them with interest and had taken notes of 

 their habits and hiding places. Following, 

 therefore, the course of a little brook that ran 

 below the house, I found myself in a shadv 

 hemlock swamp, where I knew I was likely 

 to find a covey. I proceeded cautiously, car- 

 rying my gun before me, both hammers up, 

 ready to pull the trigger at the first flutter 

 of wings. If I recalled, at the time, the ad- 

 vice my mother had given me, not to carry 

 my gun with the hammers up, it was only to 

 reason to mvself, from the heights of mv su- 

 perior boyish knowledge, that "Mother didn't 



know how to shoot." And, let me say here, 

 to any boys that read this, that it's better, in 

 most cases, to take your parents' advice. 



I had not gone far into the swamp, when 

 suddenly I heard, close to me, a clapping of 

 wings, a whirr in the bushes, and up rose 

 three partridges. One of the birds flew in a 

 direct line through an opening in front of me. 

 It was a fine shot, and I fired, almost be- 

 fore I got the gun to my shoulder. The 

 smoke which filled the opening prevented my 

 seeing the bird fall, but it did not seem pos- 

 sible that I could have missed it, as I was 

 sure I had made a straight aim. I started 

 to look carefully over the ground, when up 

 flew another bird through the same opening. 

 This time I took care to raise the gun to my 

 shoulder before taking aim. As the weapon 

 was loaded, this movement was somewhat 

 slow, a circumstance which was decidedly in 

 my favor, as I succeeded in getting the part- 

 ridge. Thrilling with excitement, I ran to 

 the spot to assure myself that the bird was 

 really dead, and then began to reload my 

 gun. On account of my unhandy apparatus, 

 this took me about ten minutes, and I was 

 just in the act of re-capping the gun when 

 I heard a faint fluttering in the direction of 

 the opening. Looking up, I saw a bird that 

 I had evidently wounded by my first shot, 

 and as I now realize, accidentally. This goes 

 to show how easy it is to lose a bird when 

 you have no dog to assist you. 



By the time I saw my second bird, I had 

 come to think that partridge shooting was a 

 cinch. _ I rose so high in my estimation that 

 I certainly felt an inch had been added to my 

 stature. Success had come to me so easilv 

 that I now believed I could take down all 

 the birds I was able to carry; there would 

 be enough for dinner; and what a surprise 

 it would be for the folks at home ! 



But, I grieve to say, that with those two 

 shots my luck seemed to have left me ; for 

 although I saw about a dozen fine fellows, I 

 did not get another bird, and as the hours 

 passed, I began to realize that I had eaten 

 no breakfast. I started for home, my spirits 

 somewhat subdued by the thought that I 

 might have done better. 



If I had only killed those two birds with 

 my last two shots instead of mv first two, T 

 think I should have felt something more of 

 the sportsman's glee. However, I got a word 

 of encouragement from my father. 



Strange to relate, although I hunted a great 



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