the horses, for steadiness over this crackling carpet of dead leaves, where the birds are squatting singly or in twos and threes, is essential. The forest is open, and at this season of the year a veritable fairyland. Oak and chestnut, poplar and hickory, rise like vast grey columns from the russet carpet beneath to the fluttering roof of red and gold, of saffron and burnished copper, illumined by floods of sunshine and broken by patches of cerulean

sky. There is no sound but the tapping of the woodpecker and the gentle rain of acorns and chestnuts on the leafy ground, or the light scraping of a grey squirrel as he leaps from tree to tree. But here is the first of the birds-a whirr of wings, a momentary vision of a brown streak-disappearing behind a monster oak, and Ponto, who has flushed him, sitting on his haunches and gazing wistfully into space with an expression of countenance

that most unmistakably declares, 'That was not my fault.' And in all probability it was not. But of the rest of the scattered birds, in whose midst we soon find ourselves, the dogs for the most part are able to give us timely warning. This, indeed, is the very cream of quail-shooting-I had almost said of all shooting. It is beautiful to see the dogs, with all their senses wrought up to the highest tension, working carefully over the bare woodland floor, and dropping suddenly and without a second's warning into every sort of rigid attitude known to the setting tribe. Sometimes a fallen tree, sometimes a heap of leaves blown against standing saplings, yields a patch of covert, but as often as not the little brown bird is squatting on the open ground not three feet from the quivering nostrils of his discoverer. And what a dash he makes for his life, even rising with this timely warning from your very feet, must be seen to be believed. Leaving the ground with the speed of a snipe and the noise of a partridge, he rushes through the forest trees, twisting and corking like a woodcock, only a woodcock on double speed. Sometimes he shoots straight up like a rocket for some opening in the leafy roof, at others he tears along not a yard above the dark ground. Often, too, on such occasions a bird is flushed by the other gun, and comes rocketing down over your head like an arrow from a bow. And perhaps when you have emptied your right barrel at him, a second with cunning instinct has allowed you to walk over him, and now, thinking the time has come, rises at your back, and gives you an instant's snap-shot through the trees with your left. Many of the birds find their way back into the open, and drop in sedge fields, or in thickets, and occasionally in the open stubble, and are marked, in part at any rate, by our sable horse-keeper. But there is no necessity, with so much country before us, to be too exacting from each covey. So, emptying our pockets into the game-bag, we mount our horses and canter over some half-mile or so of unlikely country till the next stubble fields spread themselves before us. It would be tedious to pursue further on paper the incidents of such a day, varied and delightful as they are in actual practice. We are baffled now and again by the plump of a covey into the dense scrub pine woods that here and there cover abandoned fields. Now and then, too, one escapes us in that mysterious unaccountable way sufficiently familiar to the English partridge-shooter. We kill a woodcock or two and a good many hares, and eat our lunch where some big sycamore or beech spreads its arms above a bubbling spring. And all the afternoon the cheery work goes on through stubble,

6

thicket, woodland, and pasture. The negroes driving their waggons through the crackling corn stalks, or hauling fence rails from the woods, tell each other that the Major's bird hunt'n',' with many strange ejaculations that imply it's a bad day for the 'patridges.' The shadows are long, indeed have faded, before we turn once more into the main road and head for the Doctor's buildings. The western sky is one vast blaze of red, and the indescribable after-glow that succeeds these autumn sunsets in the South spreads a strange and lurid flush over the many-tinted earth. The negro women are calling up the cows. The axe is thudding from the wood-pile of cabin and farmhouse. The scattered birds are piping in the stubbles, and the frogs from brook edges are proclaiming that the winter of their silence and their discontent is not yet quite at hand.

The Doctor and his henchman have got their bag spread out upon the porch floor of the overseer's house, and when the Major and I reckon up our spoils and find them, besides etceteras, to amount to thirty brace of birds, our shooting host has to confess that once more he has been bested by the Britishers, though not indeed by much. He has, however, a most excellent excuse -for to Rat, it seems, was thoughtlessly entrusted the whisky flask, and the natural result of such misplaced confidence had occurred; the greater part, that is to say, of the Doctor's share had leaked out in some mysterious fashion, though it was not into the pocket of his faithless partner, it is to be feared, that the precious fluid found its way. The Doctor, however, merely remarked, and with some justice, that so unequal a division of the refreshment should fairly account for the difference of five brace in our respective bags.

WHILE the Royal and Ancient' game now finds a welcome sufficiently hearty throughout the English and Scotch-speaking world, it has not, I believe, enjoyed transplantation to shipboard until within the past month. But though a pale ghost of the real pastime, and no more than a cousin many times removed to right golf, yet the marine species, as recently developed by a few ingenious sportsmen in the Bay of Biscay, on board the steamship Wazzan,' is worthy of some consideration. It offers at once that most desirable thing aboard ship-exercise, and a means, second to none, of breaking the monotony of long voyages. Deck quoits and ship billiards hide their diminished heads beside it; bad weather in reason only adds to the charm of the game; rolling and pitching permit of feats in deck golf which landlubbers will probably refuse to credit.

6

Everything, of course, depends on the nature of the ship and the good nature of the skipper. Given fair decks and an easygoing commander who offers no objection to 'putting greens,' and excellent sport is a certainty. The materials of the game are extremely simple. Instead of a ball, a round disc or quoit of wood about 4 inches in diameter is employed; and a fairly heavy walking-stick with a flat head takes the place of a club. The holes may be either a spot of chalk, to be covered by the disc, or a circle, about half as large again as the disc into which it has to be played. Hitting is useless, and the stroke for long drive and short put alike is a drag or push. On a smooth deck, if the wind does not interfere, a disc can be pushed forty yards, which is a

longer stroke than any but links on the biggest steamers would require or admit. The best position for driving is to stand with both feet a little in front of the disc; in putting, one foot in front and one behind produces the most satisfactory results; while, unlike golf, the position of the club and ball, with regard each to the other being happily assured before the stroke is made, it is better, in the act of striking, to fix the eye on the distant hole, or upon the exact spot where it is desired to bring your disc.

Our links were most happily diversified, and gave opportunities for varied strokes and great skill. The cannon' is admissible,

and one of our holes could be played in a single stroke, by a bold cannon off a bollard, if a player stood the risk of going into the The penalty for that achievement was two strokes, and of course a lost hole in hole matches.

sea.

Every hole soon gets its own name. Thus we knew one easy hole on the quarter-deck as Mrs. Thompson,' from the fact that a genial lady so called invariably sat with her feet in it when on deck. Another was called The Devil.' It lay behind the hatch of a coal bunker, and its proper number was theoretically three, but a man thought himself lucky to get home in four. It