the cage; but it was love's labor lost, for the instant I left one at liberty he took advantage of it, and flew away, never to return. I have seen their eggs hatched by a hen, but they were no sooner from the shell than they would skulk and hide in the nearest wood-pile, under the walk, or any other place to avoid me.

There is one thing about quail, that I have never had explained or been able to understand, that is the confused state they are in at times during their migrations. For they certainly do migrate,-not far, but their little bodies are filled with restlessness, with the desire to wander, and they make their nomadic excursions late in October, or early in November. Not always by flight, but at times in great flocks they will start out on foot, travel miles and miles, flying across rivers, alighting on land and running along very fast, as if on some necessary pilgrimage. Years ago, I have frequently seen them on these journeys, at the edges of villages, running along, each trying to keep ahead of his nearest competitors, then they would arise and fly into town, with the swiftness of a bullet, and the whole. flock would be headed for some building. In the woods, their flight was never too swift for them to avoid the smallest tree; but in town, they didn't seem to be able to steer clear of two-story houses, and with a dull thud their bodies would thump against the buildings in the line of their flight. This I have seen repeatedly, and have picked up as many as four from one flock, that had thus stunned themselves. After alighting once, they regain their accustomed vigilance, but boys, clubs, stones, bows and arrows, and ancient shot guns, used to sadly diminish their ranks. They were very plenty in those days, and I have killed as many as seven in

one day, with blunt arrows.

I would now willingly tramp all day to kill as many with breech-loader.

Quail are very fond of grain of nearly all kinds, especially corn and buckwheat; and in such fields they will surely be found. They are fond of seeds, berries, and in old cattle paths they get the cream of their existence.

The old saying about "the early bird catching the worm" is true here. The early hunter is the successful one. He should start out in the gray of the morning, and when the sun is showing his genial face, banishing the frost from trees, grass and stubble, the keen dog should be widely ranging through expectant places, and his master should be no laggard. There is no sport excelled by this. The bracing, keen air, the tireless setter, the expected game, the broad fields, the panorama stretched before the hunter, clothed in purple, green, yellow and brown, all serve to make the hunt intensely exciting. Nature, touched by the withering hand of Jack Frost, presents a picture never to be forgotten. The constant anticipation of finding the hidden bird, the ceaseless watching of the bounding dog, as he leaps joyously forward, sweeping his silken tail to and fro over the grass, is a sight so grand that it fills the very soul of the hunter with delight.

"When Autumn smiles, all beauteous in decay

And paints each checkered grove with various hues,

My setter ranges in the new shorn fields

His nose in air erect; from ridge to ridge,

Panting he bounds, his quartered ground divides
In equal intervals, nor careless leaves

One inch untried. At length, the tainted gales
His nostrils wide inhale; quick joy elates
His beating heart, which awed by discipline
Severe, he dares not own, but cautious creeps,
Low, cowering step by step, at last, attains
His proper distance, there he stops at once.

And points with his instinctive nose upon
The trembling prey; on wings of wind upborne
The floating net unfolded flies; then drops,
And the poor fluttering captives rise in vain. "

Seek the birds in the stubble, in the low underbrush, in the thick tufts of grass, in the lowlands, where small and scraggy trees abound, in the corn-fields, and, if you have a good dog and hunt faithfully, your industry will not go unrewarded. Mark well the divided flock, and if unable to find them, leave quietly, and return in an hour or so, and you will have them sure. They fly rapidly. Use a light 12 ga. gun, 3 1-2 dms. powder, well wadded, and 1 1-8 oz. No. 8 shot. On straight-away birds hold a little over, they are rising; on cross shots, beware, they are going very fast, hold well ahead. Shoot from one to six feet in advance of them, depending on their distance from you. Don't be afraid of shooting too far ahead, for when you do this once you will shoot behind twenty times. Risk any shot in reason, better shoot and miss than not to shoot at all; bang away at any bird you think is inside of sixty yards. Don't shoot too quick. You can kill a bird at forty yards, if you hold right; and you can't do it at twenty if you do not. Have a good dog; be patient with him. Always have plenty of shells along; and if you don't kill many birds at first, you will have a heap of fun, a good appetite, and will eventually feel well repaid. The best quail shooting I ever found was in Western Iowa, where Mr. Chas. Tate and myself bagged seventy-six birds in one day, both shooting over the same dog.

I have before me at this time a covey, seven in number. Life with these little beauties has been extinct these many years. Still, they stand before me as if liv