and shy were they, that even in the flat punt, Papa found that he could not come at all near them unpèrceived. Off they would all go again, making such a flapping with their great wings, and quacking as they went.

So Papa, having noticed a flat swampy sort of place, some way down the river, set out late at night in the punt; and, reaching this feeding-ground, waited there till the flock came flying over them. They made themselves heard sometime before they arrived; and then Papa, the man, and Drake, all crouched down and remained immoveable until the birds were right overhead; and then, bang went the great duck-gun, and down tumbled, at least, half-a-dozen great fat geese.

Now was Drake's time; and but for him no geese would have been brought home, although many might have been shot.

Out of the punt sprang Drake, and soon carried back one or two that had fallen into the open water; then he would carefully get upon the thin ice, between the rushes and the coarse grass, and bring to light any wounded bird that had sought to find a shelter there. Then again into the water where great thick reeds prevented the boat from going; if the birds dived, he dived after them; and, in short, none escaped him; he swam after them, scrambled along the ice after them, rummaged in the weeds all stiff with frozen snow, and having seized one and hurried back to the boat with it, off he would start for another.

But when the flock had once received a shot, they came no more to the same place that night; so no more was to be done, unless a chance bird or two on the way home.

Sometimes they flew one or two together; we have seen them from the windows of the fort, fly quite close to the bridge in the daytime; but only great hunger could have driven them to this.

When the party reached home, and the birds were spread out on the floor to be looked at, how pleased Drake was, and how proudly he snuffed from one to the other.

The wild geese were very handsome birds, not so large as common geese, but very plump, and with a beautiful dark brown plumage. They were very good to eat, for they do not live on fish, as some suppose, but eat only the weeds and grass that they find in certain spots along the river's bank. But the ducks were handsomer still, very nearly as large as the geese; less tough when cooked, and having brilliant blue feathers in each wing. Then there was a smaller kind of duck, with green feathers instead of blue, in the wings; this green was like the humming bird's green, as bright as emerald.

Besides these, there were teals, very-pretty looking things with silvery looking feathers on the breast, and a variety of of small ducks, and curlews. All pretty, and all good to eat; we had to thank Drake for every one of them, as without his help very few would have been picked up; there was so much thin ice along the river, that would not have borne a greater weight than Drake, so when they fell upon this, they were quite out of man's reach, to say nothing of the difficulty of groping out a wounded bird from a wilderness of long grass and rushes, growing in pretty deep water. Drake highly enjoyed the night expeditions, and when the punt was getting ready, or the

gun cleaning, he would jump about and bark, as if to say "I know what is in contemplation."

When the winter was nearly passed, we went back to England, leaving Drake in the fort; being much played with and sometimes teazed by the soldiers, he became very rough, and rather inclined to snap and bite. Shortly afterwards he was sent to us in England, and on his arrival we brought him in, to have a game with us in the house. We had a large ball, and were making Drake fetch it, when we rolled it to the end of the room. This went on very well for some time, excepting that Drake did not give the ball up without a growl, which he had never done formerly; and at last, he laid down with it between his fore feet, and I desired him to bring it in vain, so I went to him and took it in my hand, when he flew at me with a growl, and bit my cheek. It was not a very severe bite, but Mamma said she would not keep the best dog in the world after he had bitten one of us, and that Drake must immediately be sent away. Then Papa wrote to a gentleman who knew what a clever dog at finding game Drake was, and he agreed to buy him. So he was sent off without our seeing him again.

TAWNEY, THE TERRIER.

WE now come to the very chief of our favourites, our dear dog Tawney. Before he arrived, we only had a setter who lived in his kennel in the yard, and we never petted him much; and once when Papa went away for several months, he took the dog with him, so we were without any guard.

At this time a great many robberies had taken place, and houses had been broken into in the neighbouring town. There appeared to be a gang of house-breakers going about. And when Mamma was writing to our Grandmamma, she said that she quite expected a visit from this gang, some night, as Papa was away, and no man in the house. Grandmamma replied that the best safeguard was a little terrier, sleeping inside the house, and that she would send her one; and in a few days we received a beautiful terrier, close haired and compact, with such brilliant dark eyes and of a yellowish colour, more the colour of a lion than anything else, so we named him "Tawney." A bed was arranged for him in a flat basket, which was placed every evening near the back door, and we soon found what sharp ears he had, and what a good watch-dog he would prove. If Mamma got up after every one had gone to bed, and opened her own door as softly as possible, Tawney heard the lock turn, and barked instantly. He always gave notice when anybody entered the front gate, or came into the