for him the title of preux chevalier. He learned the secret of the maiden's heart; and, therefore, jumped to the conclusion that his sister's son was a specimen of passing profligacy. Perhaps there had been better wisdom in arriving by more ordinary logic at a deduction; but the world, for the most part, adopts a similar process. He departed for town, leaving the object of his concern in present security, as he deemed it. The dust which his chariot disturbed had scarce time to settle ere it was again whirled to the air by the eager wheels that followed. On the morning that succeeded the supper in Portland Place, a note was delivered at Long's, such as but too often has passed the portal of that epitome of London life. The fatal facility which the connexion already described afforded, suggested a home to the fugitive. Caroline at once placed herself under the protection of the friend whose guest she was in the autumn. We met. Is the tale of passion ever told, save with one consequence, when love speaks and youth listens? In the present instance, at all events, it was not destined to any deviation from the general rule. With words of burning force she ran over the short but passionate history of the past. Alas! for the eloquence in which eyes and spirit plead to their too faithful interpreter-the heart. The song that betrayed to me the secret of a passion I had attributed to another, she had written: a thousand incidents of the preceding autumn, which at the time seemed trifles, if observed at all, were placed before me in their true character, and I marvelled that their meaning had ever escaped me. Why was the speaker so fair? and her language an oratory so omnipotent? Could words be palpable ?-could syllables live, that I felt their pressure upon cheek and lip? "Caroline, Caroline," said I, rising, and taking her trembling hand in mine, "talk not to me thus, and, for mercy's sake, look not so; there is ruin-irretrievable ruin in it for us both. Let us part now, while we can; in honour, at least, if in despair: another moment such as this, and our destinies are beyond our control. I have not the power to leave this place; for Heaven's pity, leave me." While I spoke, she also had risen: her glance was fearful: for an instant she struggled with an emotion that turned brow and cheek to fire; then left them cold and white as marble; and, rushing forward, and dashing herself upon my breast, in words, that seemed convulsions, she gasped, "Never-never-I will never leave you; my destiny is fixed;-here I live, or here I die."

(To be continued.)

89

ON THE PRESERVATION OF GAME.

BY THE HONOURABLE GRANTLEY F. BERKELEY, M.P'.

VERMIN TO BE DESTROYED.

(Continued from page 13.)

THE HAWK TRIBE.

Or falcons there are many descriptions, all of them more or less destructive to old and young game, according to their degrees of size and power. They are to be taken in traps upon the ground, but always more eassily when they have struck down and been disturbed from their natural quarry. The finest private collection of this species of hawk is, perhaps, in the possession of Lord Malmesbury, at Ĥerne Court, up the rivers in the vicinity of which they frequently follow the large flights of teal and other wild-fowl. During the wild-fowl season, if a falcon makes his appearance above the Stour, his sway is undisturbed by the keeper, as the presence of the swift tyrant confines the teal to the waters; on the bosom of which the nobler sportsman disdains to touch them. Not so the buzzard hawk; his presence is as inimical to the sport of the fowling-piece as that of the other is conducive to it; for the buzzard will pick up the teal while on the river; and being too slow of flight to catch them on the wing, they invariably take to the air the moment of his appearance. It is beautiful to observe the knowledge which the teal possesses of the character of the enemy that appears. Though some of the falcons and the buzzard are nearly alike in size and colour, nevertheless the teal, by that undefined and minute perception, called instinct, at once detects with which of the two foes he has to deal, and adopts measures of safety according to the emergency. Of all the falcons, I am aware of but one which makes its nest upon the ground, and that is the hen harrier. It is very difficult to find the nest of these birds; and the best way to succeed in this, is to watch the old bird home. While the hen is sitting, the male is abroad in search of food, which he will bring to the nest, and drop by its side, and then wing his way in search of more. From the neighbouring preserve of game, he may generally be seen in the evening, directing his flight to the vicinity of his nest, which in all probability is situated on some distant moor. Let the gamekeeper, in the first place, ascertain in which direction he returns from his forage on the manor; and then let him lie in the way, and watch the return flight as far as possible. On the following evening let him take up a second position, at the spot where he lost sight of the falcon, and so on, till he can mark the place where the bird drops upon the moor: in this way he will at last discover the spot where the nest is situated.

In bare open countries--on moors, downs, or districts where trees are scarce, it is a very good plan to set up a lofty pole, sufficiently broad to receive on the top of it a round steel-trap. This should be set thus, without any bait or covering, simply taking care that it fits

the top of the pole on which it is placed. On a perch of this sort, no other convenient resting-place at hand, hawks and owls will frequently light; and as the trap is simple, and requires little attention, it should always be kept going.

This sort of snare is most fatal to the kestrel hawk, or windhover, and to the white owl.

THE SPARROW HAWK.

Of all the hawk tribe, there is no more destructive species to game than this; and as these birds are common to every part of England, Ireland, and Scotland, some particular notice of them will be required. The female is so much larger and more powerful than the male, that any superficial observer would pronounce them to be of different races; and, consequently, from her strength, she is the worst vermin of the two. They make but clumsy nests, select low, retired trees, and lay from three to five eggs, of a dirty white, mottled with splashes of deep brown. While sitting, the old hen may be easily approached, and shot through the nest, which is not of strength sufficient to protect her. The sparrow hawk is very swift on the wing, skimming with great rapidity over the ground, and striking quarries either flying or sitting. This hawk will also watch, from the trees at the cover-sides, for the coming forth of the young pheasants to their feed; and, in corn countries, when the harvest is early, it is scarcely credible the damage they will effect. They will scarcely ever take a trap with a strange or stale bait; but if you drive them from their own quarry, and then place your trap, there is a very good chance of success.

At the dawn of day, in September and October mornings, they may be shot at the edges of covers, while waiting the appearance of the young pheasants: and these birds form one of the chief reasons why a gamekeeper should never stir without his gun.

The sparrow hawk is bold when in search of prey, and will watch the hencoop from a tree by the side of the habitations of men, and snatch the young pheasant, chicken, or duck from the very threshold. Having no keeper's house near the woods in Bedfordshire, I used to pitch a tent, during the breeding season, as the residence of a servant, to rear the young game that were hatched under barn-door fowls; and it was necessary not only that some one should watch every day with a gun, but also we were obliged to spread a net upon stakes, under which the pheasants and partridges might feed, or bask in the sunny dust, to prevent their being carried away from the very sides of the canvass. One season, a nest of the sparrow hawk had escaped all our researches, and the old ones had reared five young birds. With such a family to provide for, the ravages the pair were guilty of exceeded all bounds; and, of course, our desire to destroy them increased in proportion. At last, we discovered the nest where they were hatched; and also that, though the birds were flown, the nest was still used as a depository for food, to which all parties might return when they were hungry. The old birds would bring food, and, without calling their young (if they did not chance to meet them in some of the surrounding trees), they would leave small birds or young game in the nest, for them to return to at their pleasure. This was first discovered to me by finding the nest, with a newly-killed yellow-hammer left there, in the way of supply. In a few days I had trapped one or two of the young ones, with baits placed on a trap in the nest; and one of the old ones, the male, in a trap placed in the nest without a bait: still the ravages of the hen continued, and partridges and pheasants were snatched from the door of the tent two or three times during the day. One afternoon, the old hen vermin came, and, before the eyes of one of my men, snatched up and carried off a partridge. He saw that she flew direct for the nest in the neighbouring wood, and, hoping to reach it while she was busy with her young, he snatched up his gun, and started for the expected rendezvous. On arriving at the nest, he discovered her fast in a trap that had been set without a bait, and by her side the still warm bleeding partridge. She had, indeed, put her foot into it, and the old preserves were happily freed from her depredations.

THE KESTREL HAWK, OR WINDHOVer.

This is a very destructive vermin to young game; but it is not so strong, so swift, or so rapacious as the sparrow hawk. The kestrel varies his food with field mice, which it may be seen to hover over, while in the grass, and is not always in pursuit of game. However, it will watch the young game at the cover holes; may often be met with, on those occasions, in company with the sparrow hawk; and may, at times, be shot and trapped in the same manner. The kestrel builds in old magpies' or crows' nests; lays from five to seven eggs, varying very much in colour, some being speckled and splashed with large patches of a reddish brown, while others are all over approaching to a brownish green. When once they have selected a nest in which to lay their eggs, they visit it constantly during the day, hovering round it, and apparently conversing over it with the greatest delight. On these occasions the gunner has only to wait with a little patience, and he may

destroy this hawk with much certainty. In this, as in other cases, the gamekeeper will do well to remember, that the sooner he puts an end to an evil, the less chance that evil has of working mischief. The pole-trap, as herein described, is an excellent device for the capture of the kestrel hawk.

(To be continued.)

A SONG FOR THE SEA.

HURRAH! for the sea, the wild, the free!
And the life a mariner leads,
What joy of earth can match his mirth
That over the blue wave speeds.
Oh! the bliss to feel the gallant keel
Through the white foam cleave its way,
As it bounds in pride on the waters wide
And sweeps o'er the surges gay!

Morn comes o'er the waves, from her coral caves,
Her soft breath stirring the seas,

And glittering bright in her golden light

Are the ripples that dance to the breeze.

See, the waters glow, and the glad winds blow,
And the good boat gathers way,

Hurrah! to ride on the sparkling tide,

And bound o'er the surges gay.

Let them boast the strain of the woodland train,
The charm of the sylvan cheer,

They may tell of the race, the joys of the chase,
And the hunter's blythe career:

But what is the sound of horn and hound
To the lay that the billows sing-

Or the bravest speed of the fleetest steed,
To a flight on the breeze's wing?

Then hurrah! for the sea, the wild, the free,
And the merry mariner's life;

In storm or shine there's bliss on the brine,
And the wave with joy is rife.

Let the hush'd wind sleep: on the startled deep
Let the fiend of the tempest cry,

Oh! still be our home on the ocean foam,
Its chorus our minstrelsy!

J. W. C.

GHUZNEE, WINNER OF THE OAKS, 1841.

THIS splendid filly was bred by the Marquis of Westminster, by Pantaloon, out of Languish (sister to Languid), by Cain; her dam, Lydia, by Poulton, out of Variety, by Hyacinthus. Her first race was for the Oaks, in which she beat a field of twenty-one with all ease; and, subsequently, she walked over for the Coronation Stakes at Ascot, being the whole of her engagements. She stands fifteen hands and half an inch high; is a fine rich bay, without any white; and is, probably, the most powerful thorough-bred mare ever bred in England.

E