Dec. 27, 1902.] 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
609 
The rest demurred and there remained 
While dog and man the stubble _ scanned; 
Writ returned, demurrer sustained. 
Then two strong birds were quick a-wing, 
As quick the Greener had its say 
In two short words, and two fine birds 
Upon the frosted stubble lay. 
Oh, what were loans and 'margins then! 
Notes, bonds and stocks were all forgot; 
"More birds lie hidden in these weeds." 
And still his eye with rapture beams 
At mention of that clever shot. 
"More birds lie hidden in these weeds, 
^There must be three unless they've run; 
Come, ./Esculapius, and do 
The little trick as should be done, 
And show the clan the excellence 
Of treble-wedge, non-jar-off gun." 
"After you, Alphonse," but forward stepped 
Unable to repress elation: 
"A little dose of leaden pills 
Will give the quarry nerve prostration." 
"Quite possible," the joker said, 
"Judging from your clear description 
And rumors rife, such dire results 
Sometimes follow 3^our prescription." 
How close they lie! but such finesse 
Deceives not pointer, setter fleet. 
"Whoa, steady, Don!" and "Mark, there, mark!" 
As whirring wings spring from our feet. 
The jar-ofif to perfection worked. 
Birds flew as tho' a trifle late. 
But that they suffered nervous shock. 
They and the papers failed to state. 
Then veteran Cap, head high in air. 
Winded a bevy deep in brush; 
The Colonel hurried to his side 
Clearing all things in his stride, 
Hoping to reach him ere the flush. 
He reached a frail and age-worn fence. 
Likewise age of indiscretion, 
Well endowed with avoir-du-pois 
To make on earth a deep impression. 
Vaulting ambition! This shooting, star, 
Ignoring many friendly hints. 
When rails collapsed saw other stars 
Besides the usual rainbow tints. 
Though fallen low and prostrate he, 
Behold the stalwart financier." 
No sulphurous exclamation: 
We all admired and counted him 
Wise in his degeneration. 
Up spring the quails, the Colonel then 
Side-stepped so nimbly left and right 
In looking for an open shot. 
Kept flies guessing where to light; i 
Till through a break in tangled vines 
A flash of wings uncertain, dim; 
Then flashed the gun, down came the wrng: 
Back benches were not made for him! 
A smile played o'er his weathered face. 
He tapped the Daly featherweight; 
"When quails are called to shuffle off, 
This will the pace accelerate." 
Imagination eighteen fine, , , '. 
Have all sportsmen sans contention, ^ _ 
And are, when singing of their guns _ : 
Pipe dreamers in the fourth dimension. ^ 
My dog, my gun, my fishing rod, 
In autumn sere and springtime green; 
]f only half that'* told wer* true. ; _ _^ . 
What wondrous things this world has seen! 
And it is well. The field-won health 
Which makes of life perennial spring, 
Touches as with an artist's brush 
And roseate hue the common thing; 
x'Vnd implements inanimate 
Take on rare personality. 
And charms unseen by other eyes— 
The sportsman's dear fatahty. 
And pranks! By gnawing hunger pressed, 
A farmhouse near with open door; 
We entered in, friends not at home. 
The table spread with pies galore. 
We feasted; then a card of thanks— 
This legend on a field of white 
Was placed upon the ravaged board 
Weighted with coin of silver bright — 
"Fair lad}^, this is not a case 
Of theft and inebriety, 
A hunter's grace ere eating pie, 
Labels it piebald piety: 
Or, since the crust was super-thick, 
Say upper-crust satiety." \ 
And to this day with zest she tells 
Of honest hobos wandering by, 
Who sat unbidden at her board_ 
But paid two prices for the pie. . . 
No sooner were we well afield. 
Refreshed within and glad of heart, 
Than strode a stranger vassal forth 
Inviting, urging us "Depart 
And trample not these acres broad 
With sportsmen's feet, now hurry, start!" 
(The corn-field wide, tossed in the sun 
To golden billows by the breeze 
V/as corn; the reach of mead and wood, 
Cloud capped, to him was grass and trees; 
A woodcock by the brooklet's brim 
A timber-doodle was to him. 
Bob White. 
And nothing more. With souls so dim 
A sportsman's chance is rather slim.) 
"So bos! If you're the manor's lord. 
Reproach us not so stridently; 
Bad form! To roar Hke taurus mad, 
Degrades bucolic dignity. 
Malevolence and raucous tones 
Mar pastoral tranquillity:_ 
Is it not true that old blue jeans 
Sometimes conceal gentility? 
The apple with the fairest cheek 
May often have a flavor tart; 
The melon with the greenest rind 
May sometimes have the reddest heart. 
Hie, home, show title deeds and speak 
Words dulcet, all-persuasive, 
Your face adorn with smiles that tell 
Of good- will all-pervasive, 
And you shall see how cheerfully 
Eastern chivalry and setters stanch, 
(Not hastily with sauve qui pent) 
Will gracefully vamoose the ranch." 
The answer soft turns Avrath away, 
The ox-goad gently sinks to earth; 
No Shamgar he to put to flight 
The Pihilistines but joins the mirth; 
And game that wingless lendeth wings. 
To shekels bright is in his mind 
As quails take flight; "A flush," one cries; 
"Not so," he says, "three of a kind," 
And dissipates dark anger's trace _ 
With grins enough to sprain his face. 
Our farmer friends will never find 
True sportsmen willing trespassers, 
Regardless of their vested rights. 
But always by-your-leave chasseurs. 
When shadows long are eastward thrown 
And weary footsteps homeward tend, 
A score of birds are counted out: 
Not much for four? A plenty, friend, 
To nimrods careless of the bag 
But mindful of the vista grand— 
The rugged hill, the valley sweet. 
The startled wing, the setter fleet. 
The lights that play on sky and land; 
The music of the trees and streams, 
Good fellowship and camp-fire dreams — 
Bird in the bush 's worth two in hand. 
Cogitation. 
Ah. poor Boh White 1 How full of gracel 
How quickly fled the vital spark! 
Could he a better purpose serve 
Than for a sportsman's shining mark? 
With healthful recreation give 
A morsel of the choicest food 
For banquet, friend or invalid — 
"Could he a better purpose serve ?"' 
Is there for him a higher good? 
Pursuit of him makes all akin. 
The prince and peasant meet as men; 
The season past and guns laid by. 
All hope to meet Bob White again. 
Since wild life ends in tragedy. 
Let us invoke the tragic muse: 
Come, then, pied piper of the field 
The manner of j'our passing choose. 
Shall taloned pirate of the air 
Swoop swiftly on unerring wing 
And strike you down, make your fair form 
Torn limb from limb, a mangled thing? 
Shall velvet-footed prowler sly 
Slow let your blood with greedy fang? 
Then crush your warm and quivering frame? 
Or. strangled by the snarer hang? 
Shall winter's blast pile snow and sleet 
Where you repose on withered bloom 
Asleep 'neath spotless shroud, then wake 
To perish in a crystal tomb? 
Or wander far, alas! to find 
Your food encased in gleaming shields — " 
Starvation's lingering agony 
Upon the bleak and ice-clad fields? 
Or from the stubble strong of wing 
To upward spring and skyward sail. 
Swift passage to oblivion 
By sudden burst of fiery hail? 
The rub — ^To shoot or not to shoot? 
The question burns but deep involved. 
We pick his bones with repartee 
And leave the problem still unsolved. 
Ao Revolt. 
From woodland green and covert gloom 
All redolent with vernal bloom, _ 
From waxing morn to waning light, 
"When hunger gaunt smites every son 
Of Nimrod with a welcome pain." 
We hear his lo^ e-note, "Ah, Bob White." 
When yeomen reap the fragrant meads 
With chattering knives and patient steeds, 
His merry voice makes labor light; 
How cheerily he pipes "Bob White." 
When groaning wains wend slowly by 
To bursting barns, unseen and shy 
For vesper hymn the little sprite 
Chants through the gloaming still, "Good night." 
When autumn's golden days are come 
And sportsmen love the fields to roam, 
His plaintive call-note rising clear, 
The scattered bevy summons "Here." 
His destiny not feeble age 
But fadeless youth on printed page; 
From merry days to festal nights 
Served hot for prandial delights. 
At reason's feast and flow of sense 
He wings responsive eloquence; 
The honored guest and genial host 
Find none like him to grace the toast. 
Let other bipeds emulate. 
In life and death to man's estate 
He adds health, strength and happiness; 
His shadow, may it ne'er grow less. 
