circumstance, and one, we believe, without parallel in the history of any of the animals indigenous to our islands-as the partridge is. Wherever cover is found, and but moderate protection is afforded, there will this highly-valued bird increase and multiply; as Mr. Morris observes in his beautiful volume on "the Game Birds and Wild Fowls of Britain," it only wants"fair play," to do so to almost any desired extent. But fair play it is not likely to get, while it is in such high request as an article of luxurious diet; and its destruction, both legal and illegal, will go on at a rate that must keep down its numbers, however prolific and hardy the bird may be. The flesh of no game bird is so delicate and free from the strong and peculiar flavour to which many object, as that of the partridge; hence its universal relish and estimation. According to an ancient couplet, it is but one point short of perfection:

"If the partridge had the woodcock's thigh,
It would be the best bird that ever did fly."

The old pastoral poet, William Browne, we may remember, recommends the flesh of this bird served up with gold and pearl dust-no doubt a figure of speech, intended to show his high estimation of this kind of food. Perhaps, like Dominico, the harlequin of Louis XIV, we should prefer the gold to the flesh of the bird. That astute Court fool was, we are told, once at supper with his royal master, and fixed his eyes so intently upon a dish of partridges, that the king, with whom he was a great favourite, said to his attendants, "Give that dish to Dominico." "And the partridges too, sire?" was the artful question. "And the partridges, too," responded the monarch. It is added that the dish was of gold.

We have already, in our account of the pheasant, spoken of that French preacher of the thirteenth century, according to whose dictum the flesh of the partridge should be eaten by the clergy only. We quoted, too, several passages from our old dramatists, which show that this article of diet was held in high estimation by our countrymen "long, long, ago." Did our readers ever hear the story of the Brace of Partridges, which is related by the people of La Bass Bretagne with much gusto over their winter fires? Here is one version of it:

"A certain curé had two partridges, which he ordered his maid to dress for his Sunday's dinner. While he was saying mass, a female friend of the cook's called to have a chat with her, and was so tempted by the delicious odour of the birds, that she slipped off a wing, which excited her appetite so much, that she ventured to take a leg, then a bit of the breast; and her friend, the cook, being unable to withstand temptation, followed her example; and thus between them, both the partridges disappeared.

"When twelve o'clock struck, the cook found herself in a great quandary. But a mendicant friar just then coming to the door, her ready wit suggested the means of getting out of her difficulty.

"She accordingly invited the friar to walk in, telling him that her master would be glad to see him, if he chanced to be in his right mind, but he had lately been insane upon one point; he had a fancy for cutting off the ears of his guests, but this possessed him only at times, and if he began to sharpen his knife, it was a sure sign that the fit was on him.

"So step into this closet,' she continued, when you hear him coming in from church, and you will soon be able to judge whether you may safely dine with him or not.

"Presently the curé came in, and the wicked cook requested him to go into the yard and sharpen the carving knife; and while he was in the act of doing so, she went to the friar, drew him to the window, and bade him make his escape, as her master certainly had designs upon his

ears.

"Without waiting for a second warning, the friar darted off; and the servant immediately raised a doleful cry, which brought her master in from the yard; when, pointing to the bare spit, she said

66 6

Oh, dear! oh, dear! the two beautiful birds; it did me good only to smell them, and now they are gone: a thieving monk came in, and carried them away in his wallet.'

"Where is he? Where is the thief?' asked the disappointed curé.

"There! there!' said the servant pointing to the friar, who was not yet out of sight. Do you not see him, running away, like a rogue, as he is?'

"Carving knife in hand, the curé set off in pursuit of the fancied robber, crying out at the top of his voice, as he found that he rather lost, than gained ground.

Stop! stop! let me have one-at least one!'

"But the fugitive, who imagined his ears were referred to, shouted back, without slackening his speed,

"Ma foi! monsieur le curé, you shall have neither the one nor the other.'

How the discomfited carer for souls bore his disappointment; and whether he ever discovered the cheat, the legend telleth not. We quote it as apropos to our subject. The idea, that partridge's flesh is fit food for the clergy, seems to be deeply rooted in the natural mind of France; if we may judge by this little bit of popular "folk lore."

But all this takes us away from the clover field, and the barley stubble, the turnip or potato patch, the vetches, or feathery rye grass, from amid which the stealthy and sure-scented dog most frequently turns up the startled covey, with the well-known whir-r-r-r so pleasant to the sportsman's ears; or where may be heard the call-note "tezick, tezick," to which he listens with no less pleasure and interest, as described by Gisborne :

"As when the gunner on his stubbly way,
Pausing his arms afresh to prime, suspends
The lifted flask, and his exploring ear

Turns if perchance the long-lost partridge calls."

In the poetry of Burns, and other Scottish writers, we find a name given to this bird, which sounds strange in southern ears; for instance, in the lines on the death of Captain Henderson, we read—

And again, in his epistle to Lord Rankine

""Twas ae night lately in my fun,

I gaed a roving wi' the gun;

And brought a Paitrick to the grun'—
A bonnie hen;

And as the twilight was begun

He is, however, mistaken, for

Thought none wud ken."

"Somebody tells the poacher-court

The whole affair."

And the unlicensed sportsman has to pay the fee, which he does, vowing to take out the price, and more, next year in feathered game.

"As soon's the clocken-time is by,

An' the wee pouts begin to cry.'

Not always does the Scottish poet apply this name to our favourite game bird, as will be seen by the following simile

"As flies the partridge from the brake

On fear-inspired wings;

So Nelly, startling, half awake,

Away affrighted springs."

And this too, is beautifully expressive of the shy timid nature of the bird, ever hiding in the cover, and starting forth in great dismay and trepidation, at the sound of an advancing footstep, be it of dog or man, rising as the poet has well phrased it,

"On fear-inspired wings."

But fearful as the partridge generally is, there are times when the maternal instinct overcomes the timidity of its nature. When the female bird has laid her eggs, numbering from twelve to twenty, or more, which she generally does late in April, or early in May, in some slight hollow in the ground, lined scantily with dry leaves or coarse grass, she will sit upon them steadily, and even suffer herself to be touched and handled, without moving. It has sometimes come to pass that she has fallen a victim to that strong love of her offsping, which is so remarkable a characteristic of many members of the brute creation, and of the feathered tribes especially. Often her nest is made in the hay-field, and as Bishop Mant describes it

An instance is recorded by Montague of a hen partridge, on the point of hatching, which was taken with her eggs in a hat to some distance, and continued to sit. Jesse tells us that a farmer discovered one of these birds sitting on its eggs in a grass field, and that it suffered him to pass his hand frequently down its back without stirring or exhibiting fear; on the contrary, when he touched it, the bird pecked at his hand. The same naturalist also speaks of a case of removal of the eggs, by the parent bird, from a situation where they were in danger of being broken by the plough-share; the nest was so close to one furrow, that the next would have undoubtedly engulphed it but when the plough returned to the spot, from the other side of the field, in about twenty minutes, the eggs numbering twenty-one, had been removed to the hedgerow ; where the partridge continued the work of incubation until she hatched nineteen poults, and bore off her brood in safety. She was probably assisted in the work of removal by the cock; but even with such assistance, one wonders how the task was accomplished, the distance being about forty yards. And, then, how did the bird know that the plough would return, and probably destroy her precious charge? Instinct approached very near to reason here.

Partridges, too, will frequently fight desperately with other birds in defence of their young. That arch depredator the carrion crow has been attacked by a pair of them, and obliged to surrender the nice young fledgling which he had seized for the purpose of making a feast; and when a kite has been hovering over a brood of young partridges, the parents have been known to fly up, screaming and fighting with all their might, in order to beat off the assailant. But instances of this kind might be multiplied to almost any extent, did we deem it necessary to call more witnesses into court, to prove that under some circumstances the partridge will fight, and desperately too, for all its natural timidity of character. In our next chapter we shall have many more interesting particulars to relate of this bird, as no inapt conclusion to the present one; we quote from a local paper

"A NEW METHOD OF HATCHING PARTRIDGES.-As Richard Miles, gamekeeper to Mr. Smith, and a party of London gentlemen, who have hired the shooting over Mr. Arnold's land at Horsted, and Mr. Coomber's of Goldenwick, was going his rounds, he came upon a partridge's nest containing nine eggs; and supposing, from what occurred, that the old bird would forsake the nest, he placed the eggs in his hat, with the intention, as soon as he got home, to put them under a hen. He fancied as he was going along that he felt them stirring, and taking his hat off, found that eight young birds had burst the shells, which he took home with him, and they are now alive and thriving."

LITERATURE.

THE MOSLEM NOBLE; HIS LAND AND PEOPLE. By Mrs. Young. Saunders and Otley, Conduit-street.

"We all love gossip. How delightful are the Sevignés Letters! how charming the Walpole Memoirs !" So writes the talented authoress of the above work; and we might add that the oriental gossip now under notice is quite as palatable as that of the clever Frenchwoman and the classical Englishman; for we never remember to have had (as it were) a more agreeable chat with the writer, who unites to instruction the utmost amusement, graphic power, intense thought, racy humour, noble sentiments, and healthy moral. The descriptive sketches of Eastern scenery, the manners and customs of the people, and the classical notices of the Parsees, furnish the most complete work upon the subject that has been given to the public; and we strongly recommend a perusal of it, as a volume full of animated and truthful delineation of the Land and People of the Moslem Noble. The illustrations, from original drawings by the authoress, make us doubtful whether the meed of unqualified praise which we have bestowed upon the pen, ought not equally to be extended to the pencil.

SUNSHINE AFTER RAIN. Saunders and Otley.

In the preface of this work, the author informs the reader that the object of offering the unpretending tale to the public is, to raise funds for the support of the aged and deserving poor in alms-houses, so as not to drive them to the "house of bondage"-the union. Meritorious as is the humane motive, the book itself requires no such apology; for it will take its stand among the popular novels of the day. The story is one of great interest, simple, and unpretending it charms by its good sense, reflective mood, high morality, and pathetic tone. In conclusion, we trust that the public will respond to the author's kind appeal, and assist in the good work of supporting those of our poorer brethren whose stormy days are seldom illumined with sunshine. MOTHERS AND SONS. By W. Platt, Esq. Charles J. Skeet, King William-street.

This book is unquestionably well written, and most entertaining. It keeps the attention fixed throughout; the story, too, is cleverly told, the incidents are both varied and original, and the characters graphically drawn. We congratulate the author upon his success, who has added to his former literary fame by a novel far superior to the general class. THE HOBBIES. Edited by Julia Cavanagh, authoress of "Nathalie," "Grace Lee," &c. T. C. Newby.

The name of the talented lady who edits the above work is a sufficient guarantee for its merits. The book in itself is a remarkable production, replete with forcible writing and deep interest. Truth and passion, freshness, originality, ready invention, singular felicity of description, are happily blended, and treated with artistic skill, producing a novel which stands out boldly from the mass, and will secure a place of no mean degree in the fertile field of light literature.