New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1883-10-14
T1TRGENEFFs LAST SKETCH.
THE QUAIL.
IMPRESSIONS OF MY CHILDHOOD,
,y,..,.Jzt,8 foe Trbs gr{b,fns


ms for O distance OF many versts the Steppe ex-
tsndsd IN every direction. No forest. stream
con,d be found in the neighboriug country; only
sballow rayines covered ny brushwood and looking
Ike immense green snakes, here and there made
their way through the otherwise unbroken surface
NJ thu plains Tiny rivulets flowed at the bottom
of these ravnes; in places to which wsll-beaten
foot paths generally led you could see very near
the tor OF the bank small springs Of limpid wafer
like tears issue from the ground and on their eugsS
in the damp clay the tracks of numberleSs Dilos
and other small ANIMALS. Man ana pe"0'' "iA'
need fresh, pure water.
NV father was passionately fond of hunting.
Every moment he could spare from his worK-pro
yided the weather was fne-would see MN take
down his rifle, strap his pouch ABOUT MS WAIST,
whistle for his old dog Tresor, ana start 70 hunt
quail or partridge. Hare no thought httle OF III
only. he would say with an air of contempt, to
NAL. hunter run. These and snipes which came
in tn. autumn were all the game found in the
neghborhood.
But quails and partridges were quite numerous
especially the latter. In following the banks OF
the rayines you would encounter at every step
little huOws in the dry ground where they love to
suuat Old TTesor would then come to sudden stop,
his tail wagCng furiousy and his forehead gather
ing in wrinkles. while my father. pale with excite
mont, would cautiously raise the hammer OF his
gun
At times, to my great JOY. would DO permitted to
accompany him. used to tuck the legs of my
trousers INTO the tops of my boots, hang my little
Aask over myIshoulders, and, so equipped, would
imagine myself q true sportsman. Though per-
spiration might cover me from head to foot, and
gravel and dust enter my shoes, never felt the
feast fatlgued, and never in single instance
allowed myself to drop behind At each report of
the gun and as soon as the bird FELL bounded for
ward with Joy ous shout felt so happy! The
wounded quail might struggle flap its wings. some
times on the ground, at other times in Iresors
month, its blood fowl only became enthusiastic;
fnever felt the least sentiment of pity
What wouldn't have given to be able to fire
run myself TO kill qualls and partrldgss with my
own hand But my father had repeatedly sx-
plained to me that was not to have gun until l
had reached the age of twelve, and that then was
20 have single barreled gun, and that would be
allowed to shoot larks only Large numbers of these
were found near our house; on sunny days you
could see them by the dozens in the clear sky mount
ing higher ever higher. with chiIps resembling the
tnkling of little bells
Hooked upon them as nv future spoil, and aimed ut
them with a stick which carried over my shoulder
like a gun. 1t is very easy to get close to them,
when they hover with quIvering wings perhaps
Eve OF SIX feet above the ground, before suddenly
plungng INTO the grass.
Sometimes in the distance, stubble fields OF this
green prairie bustards could be seen. "AhN" l
would Sigh; to kill big biru like that, and then
die!"
Ipointed thsm ont to my father with my finger,
but he would Invariably answer that the bustard
was very shy bird, which would not permit any
body to get near 1t. Once, however he attempted
to steal upon solitary bustard, thinking that it
had been wounded perhaps, and was tagging behind
the rest of the flock He ordered Tresor to keep be-
hind him. and bade me not to stir. Charging his
gun with buckshot he turned to the dog and ex-
claimed in a low voice: Back, back" Then
covering as low as possible he advanced cautiously
upon the bustaru. Tresor would not couch down,
but assumed gait something like that of handy
legged person. wagging his tail and holding one OF
his lips between his teeth couldn't keep still any
longer and followed my father and Treser craving
carefully all tn way. Bot the bustard wouldn't
allow us to get within three hundred YARDS 1t
started on a run first, then Tapping its wings hew
away. Tresor made bound forward and stared
at it, l. too looked at It-with such disappointed
heart Couldn't it have stayed just little longer
We should certainly have killed the bird
One day l started with my father TO go
hunting 1t was on the eve of st. Peters Day. AT
that season of the year the young pattriages are
stllYery small. and my father would not shnoI any
He tbertf IRE entered patch of oak trees situated
on the euge of a rye field, where you were always
The grass in this piece of wood it had been allowed
20 grow freely and had attained gTest nelgnL
MVrlaQB
ear and sUeet-wilam throVe there IN abundance
Whenever came to this spot with my slstef or the
naid-servant l carried home whole aIrmiuls; opt
when in the company Of my father ala not tIlnK
Of picking bowers / considered that occupation
unbecOmlng sportsman. n, 49,
Suddenly Tresor came to stop; My father
made sigua 70 me to be cautious. Right IN front
Of IreeOr hen quail rose aud new OH; bul sac
Hew IN strange siI ~ tbe air and then falling to
the ground as If she had been wennGed. iIesCL
made for her as fast as possible lning hs he'or
My father could not TAXI aim for tear OF hitting
the dog. Presently TrosOr made suddea dash and,
brousbt her 10 my father Ny father took the bird
from him and laid 1t its back on the palm Oh his
whats the matteri" l cried. ais she
SNoS replied my father she must, however yer.
acted az if she were wounded that the dog might
think he could catch her easily"
ain Srier 10 divert the dogs attention from her
little ones after which, il she had SUGGESTED she
would Fave down away. But this time she missed
her little game and Tresor has caught her.
Then She IS not hit I" inquired again.
aNO.6ut enc Fl. won't tontb HVs-lf0'of D''' H"''
s,enned nearer to have better look at the
Quail. Sne rested Inotionless on the palm OF my
eve Iootsd at me sidswayA Ali at once a feeling |
OF pity overcams me. 1t seemed 10 me As II u Ihe
poor LITTLE BIRD 59gaq lave @f aot done my dnty
tried to save my little ones, to draw the dogs at
fention away from them and here am captive. |
All, ms Poor mel This is not just; no, no. 1T is
not Just p
TO cares the little birds head.
{ My father answered.: -
She'll die. Look! In another moment ana her |
legs will stihen, her body will tIembls, and her |
eyes will close"
Indeed that's what did happen before long. |
When her eyes had closed began TO cry.
-&Well, what's the matter !" my father exclaimed
almost laugbingly. ~ $50
she has been killed. 1t is not Just I"