The Arkansaw traveler., 1884-03-15
THE QUAIL.
Exchange.

pen before II dropped from his hand for ever is given below. l, is d remembrance of his childhood tender. simple and to,ching.
 was about ten years of age when wha, am about to relate occurred.
 IL was summer tune. In those days lived with my father on d farm in south ern Russia. Around us for distance oi many versts the s;eppe extended in every direction. No forest, no stream could be found in the neighboring country only shallow ravines. covered by brush wood and looking like immense green snakes, here and there made their way through the otherwise unbroken surface Of the plains. Tiny rlvulets flowed at ;he beeom of these Iavines Tn places to which well-bcatcn foot-paths generally led you could see. very near the top oi the bank, small springs of hmpid water like etrs. issue from shc ground and or their edges Tn the damp clay the tracks of numbeflesS birds and other animals M n and beast alike need fresh. pure wate-
 Ny father was passionately fond oi hunting Every moment that he could spare from hIs work provided the weath- CT was inc would see hlm take down his rltlc. strap hls pouch abou, his waist. whistle for hls olI dog rresor, and start 10 hunt quail or partridge. Hare he thought little of; Il; only. he would say with an air of contempt ,o make a hunter run. These and snipe. which came in he autumn, were all the game found in the neighbnrhood.
 Bu. qlails and partildges were quite numerous especially the latter. In fol- lowing the banks of the ravines you would enc oounter a, every step little hol- lows Tn the ground where they lsve to squat. o 1 lresos would then come to a sudden stop, Install wagging furlously and his forehead gathering in wrinkles. while my father plle with excitement. would cautiously raise the hammer of his gun.
 \, times, to my grea, Joy, would be permitted 10 accompany him. l used to tuck the legs of my trousers into the tops of my boots, hang my h,,le flask over my shoulders and, so equipped, would mag inc myself tue sportsman. Though precipitation might cover me from head 10 foot, and gravel and dus, enter my shoes, never felt the least faiigued, and never in a single instance allowed myself to drop behind. Al each repor. of the gun. and as soon as the bird fell. I bounded forward wi.h joyous shout tell so happy. The wounded quail nigh, struggle. Hap Is wings, sometimes on the ground. at other times in Tresor's mouth. Its blood flow T only became en,husias- tic: never teit the least sentiment of pity.
 Wha, wouldn', have gwen 10 be able io hre gun myself 10 kill q1ail and parrdges with my own hand But my father had repeatedly explained to me that was not to have gun until had reached the age ot twelve. and that then was io have single-barreled gun, and that would be allowed to shoo: larks only. Large numbers of these were found near our house i; on sunny days you could see them by the dozens in the clear sky. mounting higher. with ehirps resembling The tinkling of little bells.
 looked upon them as my future spoil, and aimed at them with stick winch 1 carried over my shoulder like a gun. It IS very easy to get close to them, when they hover with quivering wings perhaps hve or six feet above the ground, before suddenly plunging into the grass.
 Sometimes. Tn the distance. on stub hlehelds or the green prairie. bustard could be seen. "Ah :" l would sigh. to kill big bird like that, and die"
 pointed them ou, to my father with my finger, but he would invariably an- swer that the bus,ard was very shy bird. which would not permit anybody to get near IL Once, however, he attempted to steal upon solitary bustard, thinking that II had been woun led perhaps, and sas tagging behind ;he res. Q. the ..acs.
 He ordcie Tresor to keep behind him and ordered me not to stir. Charging his gun with bucksho, he turned to the dog and exclaimed in low voice, Back back Then covering as low as possible, he advanced cautiously upon the bus,ard. Tresor would no, crouch down, but assumed gait something like that of bandy legged person, wagsing his tail and holding one of his lips be. tween his teeth. couldn't keep still any longer, but followed my father and Tresor, crawling carefully all the way. But the bustard wouldn', allow us to ge, within three hundred yards i, started on run first, then, flapping its wings, flew away. Tresor made a boand forward and started at it. too. looked at it with such disappointed heart. Couldn't !, have. staid jus, little longers We should certainly have killed the bird.
 Oae day l started with my father 10 go hunting It was on the eve of St. Peter's Day. A; that season of the year the young cartridges are stilivery small. and my father would not shoo, any. lie