AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 
89 
hand that was now fondling him in the agonies of regret, 
as if to seal forgiveness of the deed that had deprived him 
of life. He then cast a look of kindness on his master, and 
closed his eyes for ever. 
From the New-England Galaxy. 
SOME PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF A 
SPORTSMAN. 
n 
[Continued from page 66.] 
The genuine Water-fowl Shooting, is no holiday work. 
It is very much like arming oneself from helm to heel, 
and of laying in a sufficient stock of resolution, and of 
“provant” (as Major Dalgetty has it) for a long and ar- 
duous campaign. The dainty dress, light boots, and short, 
slight gun of wood-craft or field-shooting, are out of the 
question. They would not stand the racket, (to employ 
another popular, but rather coarse phrase) an hour. You 
must encase your body in warm substantial garments, and 
incarcerate the lower extremities in high greaves of the 
toughest leather. The best gun for service is the long, 
heavy, double-barrel piece, which carries two ounces ot 
shot a good half mile, and neither bruises your shoul- 
der, nor prostrates you in the recoil. Always give pre- 
ference to a double-barrel over any species of gun, for it 
gives you a double chance at the enemy — one u bang” at 
them as they are cosily swimming on the billow, in happy 
unconsciousness of peril, and one other “ bang” when 
they start up from their repose in tumult and affright. 
When they do rise, be not hasty and over-eager, and so 
destroy good sport, and abuse the goods the “ Gods pro- 
vide thee,” through imprudent anxiety — but be cool and 
collected — cock your gun promptly, but carefully — place 
the finger on the trigger with due precision — select 
with a provident eye the most desirable portion of the 
flock against which direct the sight of the barrel — and 
then pull away, and if you bring not down as many 
feathers as you can cleverly carry, then are you a most 
precious blockhead. Then, if you are shooting from 
the beach, order in your dog to tow them ashore, (if he is 
a true animal, he will not wait for the order , but with one 
grand plunge will seize the nearest bird, although ten yards 
from shore,) or if you are on the water, up with the “ hil- 
lock,” and row toward them. There they lie, scattered 
over the water, a rare and beautiful picture, which the 
elated shooter stops not to admire, however, for lo! he has 
Z 
stretched forth both hands over the gunwale, well employ- 
ed in gathering in his wealth. Here lies the strong-winged 
Loon, the imperial cloud-cleaver himself! who was but yes- 
terday fanning with his broad pinions the clear atmosphere 
above some snow-covered and far-distant mountain in the 
untrod regions of the North, or screaming to his now wi- 
dowed mate around the silent waters of some Polar lake! 
But no more will his black head be aimed at by the Indian 
rifle or the savage arrow; and the Indian fisher, whose 
solitary canoe has often glided by him in the lake of the 
wilderness, will look for that lonely bird in vain. For his 
long pilgrimage on the earth has now reached its end, and 
his red blood is tinging the blue wave that washes the 
shore of New-England, and his far-travelled wing has 
been struck motionless by a Yankee musket. 
Beautiful Mallard! Well might’st thou be vain of that 
lovely plumage — of those intense hues which rival the rare 
glories of the breaking dawn, or the decaying twilight of 
autumn, or the intermingled dyes which tinge the stripes 
of the showery bow. But, alas! that most venial vanity 
will be indulged no more, for the red drop of death is 
trembling on that polished beak, and thy heart’s blood is 
oozing over thy downy bosom. Thine affrighted mate has 
left thee to breathe out thy last gasp on the billow; and on 
the wings of fear, (with a broken leg, however!) is now 
hastening away with the rest of thy brethren to the distant 
country of thy destination. Many a time will she, while 
swimming in some remote lagoon with her brood, (thy off- 
spring) relate the cruel story of thy death, and caution 
them to make a wide circuit, whenever they shall chance 
to espy a small suspicious-looking wherry, with a long 
gun and a rough face peeping over its side, in the waters 
of Boston Bay. She will caution them to keep farther out 
to sea along that piratical coast, and thereby avoid that 
treacherous, picaroonish sort of craft, which there lies in 
wait, between two billows, ready to pounce upon and pop 
over the unwary cruiser. 
The Loon, however, is not so easily taken as some young 
Sportsmen are apt to imagine. If the question is put to 
you, “ will you have him now or wait till you get him,” 
the chances are very considerable in favour of your reply- 
ing in the language of the latter clause of the query. The 
invention and use of those prompt little percussion-caps, 
however, has caused sad havoc among them, of late years, 
and will have a tendency greatly to diminish their num- 
bers, unless their sagacity teaches them to use greater cau- 
tion in their migrations. They have so long been accus- 
tomed to baffle our tardy flint-locks, that they have grown 
quite pi’esumptuous, and will suffer the shooter’s boat to 
approach within ten waves of them, when presto! under 
they go, after the flash, but long before the explosion. 
