The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1872-10-05


this ground, and. the step was light and
swift; the ground itself is loose and dry,
and non-reteniive of scent; but so keenly
and surely does this noble creature press
on the trail, that am put to my best pace,
lest lose sight of her In the corn. And
now, rush, rustic; she has it under her
paws, and holds it firmly till my arrival.
"Good dogn' and then the tension is all
gone; the chase is gained; and she wags
ner tail with satisfaction.
Our run through the corn has brought
us in sight of stubble which borders it;
now, Bess must follow, not lead; for here
is where the mallard loves to feed, on morn
ings like this, and his long neck and wary
eye will wait for neither man nor dog,
when seen. One motion of my hand-no
woodland Bess falls behind me, following
as meekly and quietly as she was before
eager and swift on her range. And in
good time. Just as my face shows outside
of the corn, with "quack! quack!' up
spring dozen mallard, not eight rods off.
l fire, but, taken by surprise, l miss; and,
at the report, single duck rises on my
left. Him secure, and his thud," as he
strikes the ground, tells of fat four pounds
weight. This is all out of Bess' 8 line: but,
on the word, she RECEIVERS the duck, as she
did the grouse, and l start for the buggy
glad that the bulky game is not destined
for my back.
The little chap in the buggy, has mark
ed, with boys eye, the rise of the birds
and their fall, and pats my companion on
the head, as she takes her place with us
for a ride. 1t is small mercy to make a
dog hunt the field and run the road.
Now for a long ride over the prairie, in
the direction of certain ponds. To aquatic
birds water is absolutely essential, after
feeding. High in the air above us, long
line of geese is sailing southwark, utterly
beyond reach. But we do not repine. We
sentimentalize rather, repeating to our
selves the well-remembered lines of Bry-
ant
"Whither, midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last set
of day,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou
pursue
Thy solitary way?
! Seek st thou the plashy brink
! Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide;
| Or where the wild pillows rise and sink
On the chafed oceans side?
| In vain the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee
wrong;
| As, darby planted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along"
But here comes another troop of dozen
geese, looming up over the prairie, half
mile off; low down. and coming noisily,
hurriedly on, as if they had just gobbled
up one corn field, and were in haste to
begin on another. They are quite low,
but they pass US too far ahead, and we
philosopher on their ignoble haste and
huddle, as compared with that stately
spring flight which Halves sings:-
"Hawnk! honk! and forward, to the nor
ward, is the trumpet tone;
What goose can lag, or feather flag, or
break the goodly come!
| Hawk! onwards to the cool blue lakes,
where lie our safe love bowers;
! No stop; no drop of ocean brine, near stool
nor blue-l light tory;
Our travelling watchword is, 'our mates, our
goslings, and our glsry'
Symsonia and Labrador for us are crowned
| with flowers:
| And not breast on wave shall rest, until
| that heaven is ours ~
But now, as we drive along, come four
others, in slow, uncertain flight, plainly
ready to alight in the first convenient pond.
They are led by a primitive, patriarchal
gander, who has plainly seen men and
smelt powder before, for, as we lay by our
philosophy and take up our gun, he bears
easily off, and passes us, just out of range.
A noisy flock of brant, flying high over our
heads. takes off my eye, for second; when
my little boy cries out, "Pappa, papa,
the geese have lighted down, right ahead
of us; guess there's pond"' Sure
enough, going little farther, there is
pond; and right in the center of it, on
little mud bed, stands the leader, with the
other geese sitting around him. 1t is just
the thing: they are as good as in our hand.
glossy, turn out, and drive into the prai-
RE, far enough from the pond not to scare
them. The old gander will watch you and
Pete; but III slip out and crawl up behind
that bunch of weeds at the edge of the
pond, and we'll get them" ~
Soon the little fellow drives away and
stops, just at the distance. A horse seems
rather an attraction than an object of fear
to goose; at any rate the sentinel has
missed no one from the buggy, and pro-
nounces matters all right. l am on my
bands and knees, slowly and quietly max
ing my way to the clump of weeds. l
reach it safely, and peering through their
tops, see the birds at six rods from me;
the three sitting, having turned over the
watch to the leader and he watching in
| tently tile boy and horse. Withdrawing my
cartridges of No. 4 shot-a privilege which
| is one of the chief beauties of breech.
loader-I insert those of BIB, and cautious
ly raise myself up to shoot. But now
comes vexation.
The wind has been growing to gale.
AS l rise, the tall rushes and flags are
blown down on my gun barrels and held
with so much force that cannot lift them.
STOPPING again, draw them back to clear
the weeds; but "honk! honk!" the old fell
low has taken the alarm, and, with bound
and flap, swings of, with two of the 9TH
ers, on the wind. The fourth rises to his
feet; fire. With single outstretch of
his wings, he falls on the bar, dead. Vex-
ed, l fire, Intellectually, at the retreating
three, and watch them till they fade in the
distance. Such are the chances, even in
shooting. one minute before, would have
thanked no man for three of those geese;
for they were standing, literally touching
each other; now, am forced to be con-
tent with one.
Bess, meantime, is having her trouble.
She had difficulty in making her way to the
game through the soft, tenacious mud; to