Col inus virfuniaiius . 
day, the even tenor of Bobby’s way was rudely interrupted. 
Such a day as that was only a weary lonely prisoner can 
appreciate. He had been whistling ever since an hour be- 
fore sundown with his customary lack of an answer, when 
hark ! what was that ? by all a quail holds most dear, a far- 
away faint reply. Another clarion peal from Bob and joy 
and rapture unforeseen ! Again comes the long drawn out, 
mellow echo, this time closer surely. A few more exchanges 
of Bob’s tenor and the visitor’s soprano and from my porch 
where I sit smoking, I spy a hen quail, skipping and minc- 
ing along with outstretched neck and eagerly answering my 
gay Lothario’s every note. And now she is directly under 
the cage and Robert, with head shoved out between the 
bars, sees her and fairly shrieks out his delight. At this 
most interesting juncture a crowd of noisy boys come racing 
down the village street and the noise of the commotion 
with the unusual surroundings, proved too much for the 
gentle maiden’s nerves and with a whirr-r-r, not even trust- 
ing to her little legs for escape, she was in the air and away 
like a bullet down the street, from whence she came, horrified 
as well she might be at her own unmaidenly temerity. Poor 
Bob screamed until long after dark but the fair one came 
not. Early next morning I placed the cage on the lawn 
where I could see it from the window, and almost at once 
the concert opened. Before I could believe it possible not 
one but two dainty birds, a cock and a hen, put in their ap- 
pearance, running for all they were worth, and answering 
every challenge without so much as pausing to take their 
breath. Both arrived together, and such a time as there 
was then. Bob, gone completely crazy, tore about his prison 
like mad and the visitors appeared almost as much excited 
for they peeped and pecked and scratched at the cage, won- 
dering the while to themselves if ever before was a quail in 
so sad a plight. For many minutes I watched this strange 
meeting until something, I have forgotten what, alarmed 
I the visitors and without a good-bye, they were ofl. For 
several successive days subsequently one or the other of 
these birds paid Bob a visit but never again did they come 
together and, while I hate to say it, the lady quail came sev. 
era! times to her husband’s once, and seemed to take a much 
deeper interest in Robert’s society. I never have found out 
why but her visits suddenly ceased and I can only draw my 
own inferences on such a purely domestic matter. The hus- 
band was probably perfectly right in his views but Bob could 
not be comforted. It may have been altogether a morbid fancy 
but ever after, all through the Autumn and Winter, the 
plaintive, lonely cry seemed even more plaintive and more 
lonely. Spring was hastening into Summer. Again the 
“Bob, bob-white!” with its thrice rising infiection, por- 
tended every storm, and one day it came over me, all at 
once, to let the poor little fellow go and see if he could not 
find that society he so much preferred to my own. Without 
stopping to think it over, I bundled him, cage and ali, into 
the buggy, and a mile or so from town not far from where 
I first made his acquaintance I opened the cage door and 
out he hopped. True to his old instinct, realizing his free- 
dom, he started off on a swift run but only for a few yards. 
Then he paused, looked back — and started toward me. I 
called ofl the pointer, which was watching the proceedings 
without venturing to take a hand in the matter, and with 
something suspiciously like a lump in my throat I jumped 
into the wagon and left my young bird to enjoy or to be- 
moan his new surroundings. 
I have always doubted if my intended mercy proved such 
in reality. It was on a Friday that I emancipated him and 
not until the following Sunday did I have an opportunity to 
visit the locality again. Then, with a friend and accom- 
panied by the pointer, we alighted at the same field, entered 
so as to give the dog the benefit of the wind and bid him 
hie on I Notawhifl of scent; no Bobby there. Disap- 
pointed, we crossed the fence, beat out the adjoining apple 
orchard, and were almost about to give it up when, away 
down in the corner of the field where the catbrlers mark the 
edge of the swamp, the good dog paused suddenly, felt the 
tainted air, roaded a few steps cautiously and stood firm 
and motionless. Uncertain stiil . if this indicated the near 
presence of my own Bobby or some other Bobby I peered 
cautiously down in the matted underbrush and briars and 
there, ten feet ahead of the dog’s nose, was a quail sure 
enough. Almost as my own eye caught him he saw me, 
and Bobby, yes ! my Bobby, saw me and saw his dog friend, 
too. Did he run away ? I should rather say not. He 
jumped up as quick as lightning and ran up to me and just 
as quick as he could ply his littie legs, too. It would have 
done your heart good, my dog-loving friends, to have seen 
that dog’s muscles relax, that tail to lose all its rigidity and 
to waggie violently ; those brown ears to lose all their prick 
and those bright eyes all their glare as the noble creature 
recognized his whilom little friend. And Bobby ! he was 
tickled to death to see us. He walked between the pointer’s 
legs and the pointer sniffed at his mottled back and then he 
paraded about me and prattled all the while his extreme 
satisfaction at the interview. At length I bade him good- 
bye and it was a last good-bye, for I never saw him again 
to my knowledge. And now, when the days of the wailing 
winds and whistling woods, and meadows brown and sear 
return and remind me that November and our favorite 
sport are at hand I take pains to avoid that particular lo- 
cality. I avoid it, reader, because I had learned to love 
that little bird and if any hand should bring him harm it 
must not be my own. Whether Bobby ever took unto him- 
self the wife whom he yearned for so long, and whether, if 
he did, he found himself capable of conveying to her his 
eventful history in the reiterated “Bob Whites” of the 
honey moon, I may never know. I only know this, that 
Coleridge was right when he taught us that 
“He prayeth well who loveth well 
Both, man and bird and beast.” 
Englewood, N. J. 
Vuc . ^ 4 , 
