AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 
99 
untarily departs, until twilight approaches. This imper- 
fection in sight is strikingly manifested, when driven from 
their seclusion, as they seldom make long flights, and are 
always anxious to settle immediately, as though it was 
painful to sustain the dazzling light of the sun, and are as 
likely to rush into danger as to avoid it, frequently ap- 
proaching the sportsman sufficiently near to be stricken by 
the hand. The writer himself, during the past summer, while 
standing beneath the shade of a tree, observed a Wood- 
cock settle within a few feet of him, and actually remained 
some seconds before it took to flight again; but this appa- 
rent stupidity is only attributable to their imperfect vision, 
in the day time. But no sooner do the shades of evening 
appear, than they sally forth, from their thousand 
hiding-places, to seek their food in open glades and mea- 
dows. At this time, an expert shot may reap a rich reward 
to his watchfulness, should he station himself near to some 
dense swamp, where these birds are making continual in- 
gress and egress. 
Often, in his walks at twilight, along the secluded lane 
or lonely meadow, does the passenger observe an object 
like a phantom flit before his face, or spring from his path, 
with a whistling noise, and is lost in the impenetrable 
gloom which surrounds him: — it is this lonely bird, unable 
to sustain that light which gives life and gaiety to other 
birds, now breaking forth from every opening of the 
woody recess, to enjoy the comfort and protection which 
night affords, while seeking unmolested the means of sus- 
taining life. 
Woodcocks, although migratory, remain frequently with 
us during the whole year — sometimes, when the streams 
are covered with ice, and the ground with snow; but their 
places of resort then, are in cedar swamps, and those 
springy woods, where the water never freezes, but is con- 
stantly oozing from the ground, and it appears remarkable 
how this bird, whose food consists altogether of worms and 
insects, should, at this season of the year, find means to 
sustain life; but Nature, ever provident in her resources, 
and bountiful to all her offspring, has furnished this bird 
with a bill whose length and delicacy of touch enables it to 
penetrate deeply into the earth, and draw from thence its 
accustomed support. 
THE SEA. 
To those who are capable of only gazing upon its surface, 
the ocean is a sublime sight. “ The waste of waters,” as 
we are in the habit of calling it — though it be any thing but 
a waste, girdles the globe from pole to pole, and occupies 
nearly three-fourths of its surface. When, on some calm 
and pleasant day, when there is not a cloud to dapple the 
sky, or a breath to ruffle the waters, we look out from some 
lone promontory or beetling rock, upon the soft green face 
of ocean, and see it extending on and on in one glassy 
level, till it blend its farther blue so softly with that of the 
air, that we know not which is the sea and which sky, but 
are apt to fancy that this limpid watery curtain is drawn 
over the universe, and that the sun, the planets, and the 
stars, are islands in the same sea in which our own habita- 
tion is cast. In the soft but sublime contemplation, we find 
the mind expand with the subject; the fancy glides off to 
places more high than the line can measure, more deep 
than plummet can sound; we feel the link that binds us to 
creation; and finding it to be fair and lovely, our kindly 
feelings only are touched, and we exult in the general hap- 
piness of that of which we feel that we are a part. If then 
a vessel should come in sight, with the sun illuminating its 
canvass, like a beam of light on the blue sea, and moving 
slow and stately, not seeming to us to be in motion, and 
yet shifting miles before we can count minutes, how we 
long to be passengers — to walk upon the waters — to be 
wafted by the winds — to visit the remotest parts of the 
earth, without half the effort which is required before the 
sluggard can turn on his couch. Then, if we linger till 
the sun declines, and his beams are wholly reflected from 
the glowing surface, what an excess of brightness! An 
infinitude of burnished gold, and of burnished gold all 
living and in motion, stretches out at our feet; and as the 
reflected light upon the shore wakens a gentle zephyr of the 
air in that direction, the dimpling water plays in alternate 
sunshine and shade, as if the luminary had been broken to 
fragments, and gently strewed along its surface. 
But if the elements are in motion, if the winds are up — 
if the “blackness of darkness,” which cloud upon cloud, 
rolling in masses and roaring in thunder, which answers to 
the call of the forked lightning, has flung its shadow upon 
the sea, so as to change the soft green to a dark and dismal 
raven blue, which gives all the effect of contrast to the 
spray that dances on the crests of the waves, chafes around 
the reef, dashes with angry foam against the precipice, or 
ever and anon, as the fitful blast puts on all its fury, covers 
the whole with reeking confusion, as if, by the force of the 
agitation, the very water had taken fire; — if one can stand 
so as to view the full swell of the tempest-tossed ocean side- 
ways, it is indeed a spirit-stirring sight! The dark trough, 
between every two ridges, appears as if the Waters were 
cleft in twain, and both a pathway and a shelter displayed, 
while ridge courses after ridge in eager race, but with equal 
celerity. Some, indeed, appear to fall in their course, and 
to be trampled upon by those that are behind. They are 
