a closely allied variety, and, doubtless, as susceptible as its congener of gentle education. This bird inhabits all the northern parts of the continent, and though somewhat rarer than the peregrine, is yet a well-known bird. I shot, some years since, a fine specimen of this bird, on the marshes in the vicinity of Pine-brook in New-Jersey, suspecting it to be the very goshawk, which it indeed closely resembles. It builds in high trees, and lays three eggs.

It is not, assuredly, here my purpose to enter upon a long, and, to many readers, wearisome description of plumage and minute scientific distinctions between these three noble varieties; but, rather, to point out a few of the general characteristics, by which to discern these gallant birds from the more vulgar genera of kites, hawks, and buzzards; and then lightly to touch on the most distinguishing marks, as to color and the like, of the three birds before us, so as to enable the reader to recognize them at a glance; for I cannot but believe that the day will arrive when the princely sport of falconry will revive in this our western world, some portions of which are so admirably adapted to its pursuit.

Speaking of the peregrine falcon, Mr. Brewer, whom I have quoted above, uses the following words, accurately descriptive both of the bird in question, and generally of the tribe of docile falcons:

Among the falconidae this bird will present that form best adapted for seizing the prey in an open manner by the exercise of its own organs. Noble in their bearing and graceful in their carriage, the falcons are as much distinguished from the vultures by their fine proportions, 'as those of the lion place him in the scale of creation above the gaunt, ravenous, grisly, yet dastard wolf.' Placed, by their strong and powerful frames, far beyond them in all rapacious powers, they feed nearly exclusively on living prey, despising all upon which they have not themselves acted as executioners, and particularly any carrion, which has the least savor of beginning putrescence. For these purposes they are possessed of a compactly formed body, the neck comparatively short, and supported by muscles of more than ordinary strength; the feet and thighs remarkably powerful, and the wings of that true hirundine form and texture, which points out the greater development of their power. The prey is generally struck while upon the wing with a rapid swoop, and is at once borne off, unless completely above the weight of the assailer, when it is struck to the ground and despatched more at leisure."

The peregrine is twenty inches in length and three feet eight inches in extent; the bill is blue, blackening toward the tip, the cere and legs rich corn yellow, the claws black, the brow is light-colored, the crown and cheeks, running off like mustachios, are black, as is the whole back down to the rump and tail; coverts ash gray with dusky bars, the wing coverts, scapulars, quills and tail, brownish black, curiously edged and mottled with light ferruginous. The breast and chin cinnamon yellow; the lower parts deep buff, dropped with heartshaped black spots; the sides broadly barred with the same color.

The most strongly distinctive marks are the black cheek spots, and the great size of the large and puissant feet and claws. Like most other of its race, the peregrine falcon adheres to the same haunt for many generations, the survivor in case of accident, always finding a new mate and returning to the old abode. It is not a common bird in England, and in the southern counties is extremely rare; its very name importing its foreign origin. In days of falconry this and the succeeding species were for the most part brought over from Norway, fetching enormous prices, and not seldom figuring together with the alans, or rough deer greyhounds of that time, as the most valuable portion of knights', nay, kings' ransoms; but in all cases the value of the hawk was vastly superior to that of the hound.

In Europe the peregrine breeds invariably in the crags, and is said never to nest in trees. The diversity of his habit here arises doubtless from the comparatively level surface of the United States, and the absence generally speaking of precipitous cliffs along our shores and water-courses, which the peregrine haunts by choice, since he especially affects waterfowl as his favorite prey.

On the Jersey shore and the vicinity of the great bays of the Chesapeake and Delaware, he would be hard set to find a rock whereon to pile his eyrie, and the northern regions he in some degree eschews, since that minute observer, Dr. Richardson, found him exceeding rare in the fur countries.

In Great Britain, the Bass Rock and the Isle of May in the Frith of Forth each possesses its pair, which have had their eyrie there so long that the memory of man runneth not to the contrary; and the Isle of Man is rich in these birds, whose ancestors many believe to have been fugitives from captivity, which once ministered to the sport emphatically of knights and noble.

The peregrine usually seizes his prey in the air, singling out one devoted victim,

whether from a plump of ducks or a pack of partridges or grouse, which fly adverse, screaming in agonies of terror at the first whistle of his shrill resounding pinion, pouncing on it with the certainty and almost the speed of a rifle bullet, and crushing flesh and bone in the dreadful clutch of those inexorable talons, from which there is no escape. save when the trenchant beak gives the unerring coup de grace.

That he sometimes however, which has been disputed, strikes his victim on the ground, Colquhoun of Luss shall once more stand forth a witness:

"When out breaking a young dog upon the Perthshire moor, I put up a grouse, which after flying some distance, was pursued by a blue falcon. The poor grouse, seeing it had no chance, dropped down in the heather, but it was too late, the hawk was directly above it. It immediately alighted, beat about in the heather for a minute, and presently the grouse fluttered out before it. I saw the chase for about ten yards when they ran behind a hillock and on my going up to the spot, the falcon rose and there lay the grouse decapitated."

The gyr falcon, falco islandicus, is a much rarer bird than the last, and I have never seen a live specimen which I had an opportunity to examine with attention. It rarely breeds in the British Isles, I might, I believe say never, and when met with occasionally, it is for the most part in the depth of some winters when he is driven in by stress of weather.

In America he is found every where north of Canada up to the Arctic regions, resting in high cliffs and rocks.

Even

here I fancy, however, that he is a rare bird, as in the course of a summer's tour, some years since, along the north shores of Lake Huron, and on the waters of Lake Superior, though I visited many places of the precise nature in which I might expect to find him, and was moreover particularly on the qui vive to procure ornithological specimens, I saw nothing that even resembled this beautiful bird, whilom the choicest darling of the falconer's pride.

His plumage is every where pure white, marked with slate grey arrow-headed spots, his cere and legs bright yellow. His length is twenty-two and a half inches, his alar extent forty-nine. The female bird is something larger.

This brings us to the goshawk, the only truly native English falcon of high degree, for the lanner and the merlin, though they were occasionally reclaimed, were of small size and smaller account in the field. But the gay goshawk was the companion of every gallant knight and gentle lady of the land, and to go abroad without the hawk on fist would

have been held almost an avowal of deficiency of gentle blood.

The true goshawk it is decided, by late authorities, that we have not; yet our black-capped hawk, or ash-colored falcon, astur atricapillus, is acknowledged to resemble him so closely that none can tell the birds apart, save those of the deepest lore, and closest observation; for all purposes of falconry, the birds are in truth identical.

He is twenty-one inches in length; his bill and cere light blue; his legs feathered half the way down of a bright yellow; the crown of his head black; all his upper parts pale bluish gray, faintly tinged with brown; whole lower parts pure white, beautifully pencilled with transverse zigzag lines of dusky brown.

These, then, are the world-famous falcons of old, which were accepted almost as bribes between crowned heads, and which were cheaply valued literally at their weight in gold. To secure the young birds, in the first place, in their perilous, and all but inaccessible eyries, was in the first place a work only to be achieved at imminent risk of life; and every successive step of rearing, nursing, training, till the falcon was perfect, required such care, such close attention, such strict observance of rules, and such thorough knowledge of the subject, combined with such self-command and control of temper, that the falconers capable of managing, reclaiming and flying hawks in the field, were hardly less valuable than the birds themselves. The consequence of all this, combined with the splendor which, in the middle ages, it was thought necessary to lavish upon all field sports, rendered it a sport possible only for the great and the wealthy, even if the sumptuary laws had not forbidden its enjoyment to any but those of noble birth.

As a sport, however, it was assuredly the first and noblest of any; and we are told by those who had experienced both, and knew their every chance and change, that the glorious rally, the long, fierce pursuit, and the tumultuous heart-stirring music of the chase, was as nothing in regard of excitement to the short, sharp, furious gallop, with slackened rein and eyes turned heavenward, when bird pursued bird through the boundless hunting-fields of air, and the rash rider had only to trust his fortune, the firmness of his seat, and the perfect training of the horse he bestrode, since with his eyes in air, strained to their utmost to keep the towering quarry and heaven-scaling hawk in view, he could see neither how to guide the courser's head, nor judge of the fences he was forced to take in his stroke, with

scarcely an idea when or at what obsta cle he was about to leap.

To this it is, far more than to the care and science requisite, or to the lavish means demanded, that the decline of falconry in Europe must be attributed. The old countries have become so thickly inclosed, and so highly cultivated, even where the large fowls of game, such as herons, bitterns, cranes, and bustards, still abound-and they are now rare, and becoming rapidly extinct-that to attempt to ride across the country hoodwinked, as it were, would be in truth an act of suicide, if it were possible; but is, in a word, impossible.

The expense of keeping a cast or two of hawks, need not, in reality, be considerable; nothing to compare with that of maintaining a well-appointed pack of foxhounds, nor a tenth part that of keeping up a racing stable, without the concomitants of betting books and turf-losses.

The care and trouble requisite are no greater than nine men out of ten lavish on some favorite hobby, and the expense might be limited to the keep and wages of one experienced servant as a falconer, whom it would probably in the first place be necessary to import from Germany. A few hundred dollars per annum would

enable any western gentleman to commence the sport with imported servants and imported birds, and before half a dozen years had passed, there would be Americans enough to supply any possible demand, better skilled in the taking, training, reclaiming, and flying falcons, than any foreigners in the world, if we except the Arabs, and perhaps the Maronites.

Plain lands of large extent, unbroken by fences and abounding in game, are the sole requisites to the prosecution of this innocent, invigorating, and delightful sport, and nowhere on earth are all these requisites so perfectly combined as in our prairies of the West. The sand-hill crane would soar a loftier flight than ever flew the boldest heronshaw or bittern; the prairie-fowl and sharp-tailed grouse are stronger on the wing, wilder and swifter than the best partridge that ever flushed from stubble-field or clover. The names of our ducks are million. The greyhound has become the hound of the chase on the prairie; the falcon, unless we prove sadly false prophets, will soon become more famous in the western world than he was ever in the days of prowest chivalry in Europe, Africa, or Araby.

CHAPTER VI.

IN WHICH A RIVAL IS INTRODUCED.

THE tournament to which the Pecks

and their guests were invited, was the talk not only of St. Jude's, but of the neighboring parishes, and preparations on quite a grand scale were being made for its celebration by the originators of the fête. It was agreed that the chief event of the day should come off at the Oaks-an estate purchased by the father of the pressent owner of Cypress Hall, and the mansion pulled down to consolidate the property. The fine old grove still flourished, however, and the sward under its branches was the favorite fête ground of the neighborhood: and there were galleries now raised, and lists railed in, and tents pitched, to accommodate the sylvan beauties,— whose mantua-makers in the city had their hands full of work and their heads of instructions-and to afford retirement between acts to the gallant knights, whose

armor having been manufactured by an enterprising tinman under the inspection of a joint committee, had safely arrived, and only awaited the auspicious hour to be donned and dazzle all eyes.

The Major learned these particulars of what he called the "toonament," from Rutridge, and expressed his intense appreciation of the fun. "By George!" he said, "I'd rather be in the galleries, though, or some other safe place, when you young fellows are poking and chasing one another. Poke your knight under the ribs, here-and by George! if he don't double himself up, he must be less ticklish than I am." "Poke the deuce!" Rutridge returned, laughing. "Why, Major, it's not to be a joust, but what was formerly called a carrousel, and nobody is expected to do more than carry off on his lance point, a ring suspended overhead. After the games are at an end, and the prizes awarded, we will open the ball in

the shade, on the lawn, and continue it as late as you please;" and the Major was enlightened.

To witness these games and dance at the subsequent fête champêtre, St. James and St. Matthew's lying contiguous, promised numerous guests; and even St. Jude's, Berkley, sent its representative to St. Jude's, Santee, in the person of Miss Earl-Miss Celeste Earl-who came opportunely to pay a long promised visit to her friends at Cypress Hall. She was charmed to find them all so gay; it was so very dull in St. Jude's, Berkley, and without excitement of some sort it was quite a bore-indeed, quite impossible to live: were her words. Of course when a young lady uses an expression of this sort, it is not to be taken literally; it was not even what she honestly thought, for the less one wedded to gayety, thinks seriously of life and its uncertainties, the better for the preservation of peace of mind from day to day, and the easier to ignore the inevitable law referred to on the first page of this story. Miss Celeste is not our heroine, and she attempted no more than nine-tenths of her sex have in their allotted lifetime and with about equal success. She danced and flirted, and dressed and was gay, without verbal hinderance; she was pretty and possessed of a little fortune-more than enough for pin-money after marriage-and it may be interesting to her contemporaries to learn, that Madame Mère, who had been intrusted with the finishing of this young lady's education also, took snuff on the occasion of a visit from Mrs. Earl, and affecting to consider, remarked: "Ma foi, she is let me see-perhaps the very best pensionnaire I have, madame!" A speech, however, with the same reflective interruption, she was in the habit of repeating to all the mothers who came to see what progress their daughters made in water-colors and the languages.

Besides all which our heroine had beaux in abundance, and was petted and very nearly spoiled at home, and I think was really happy-as happy as any of us with the sword of Damocles over our heads can be. Other people died off,-as a rule others had their day; but a time for Miss Celeste Earl, for pretty, gay, sprightly Celeste Earl, would never arrive. It was in support of this maxim-which she never would have confessed-that at the end of each season, when the reign of bagatelle was over, and white gloves, satin slippers and chaperons, no longer took precedence of every-day subjects of interest, our heroine professed herself not in the least weary of dancing, flirting, and breakfasting next morning in bed; and when there

were no more parties to attend, kissed her aunts all round (dear maiden ladies, to the last they had urged her attendance to spiritual matters and helped hook her ball dress), and took her seat in the carriage destined to convey her home again to Grange Hall, usually with a cake box containing lunch, and a package of tracts on the front cushions, latest tokens of anital concern in her welfare.

The arrival of Miss Celeste Earl at Cypress Hall infused fresh life into the members of that household; the young ladies, whose reserve made them appear rather quiet people in society, found themselves inclined to forget of what high and haughty stock they came, in consulting their guest's love of pleasure; and the old school Colonel himself brushed up his old school graces-he had been quite a famous beau in his day-and told his obsolete anecdotes with an air of even greater bonhommie than stateliness for the

nonce.

Mr. Edward too might have yielded to the kindly influence, for there was nothing flippant or capable of offending the nicest stickler for feminine propriety and good sense in Celeste's conduct-and have forgotten the Pecks to the lasting self-gratulation of his sisters. But how forget Miss Rosette? Mademoiselle, it is true, was neither so pretty nor so well informed as Miss Earl in reality; but Rutridge would have thought her twice as much so, had it occurred to him to draw any comparison. He was already in love with the one, and found neither time nor inclination to ascertain if the other were not better worth loving. He rather liked Miss Celeste on the whole, chatted with her when they met at table at Cypress Hall, where it was his habit to dine twice or thrice a week, and after that cared no more for her society, until brought together again in the same manner, or solicited by Hetty to escort them on horseback somewhere in the neighborhood, when, if not pre-engaged at Cornhill, he rode over punctually at the hour named.

Celeste observed Mr. Edward's indifference, of course, and felt a little surprised perhaps that her charms were not more esteemed; but vanity and jealousy were not among her frailties, and if Mr. Edward had spent his whole time at Ponpon, or with the Pecks, she would not have been at all piqued by the incivility. She was amused, however, by the frequent reference to Cornhill in Rutridge's conversations, and surmised more than was apparent to the rest.

"Who lives at Cornhill?" she asked one day of his sisters.

"The Pecks-Major Peck and his fa

mily," Hetty said; "Madame Mère is on a visit there."

"The Pecks-I don't know them;" Celeste returned; "but I suppose there is a Miss Peck whom your brother finds interesting."

"Miss Peck!"-Hetty cried, looking up from a book with a rather scornful stress on Amelia's name. "If he goes there often, it is only to make certain of Major P.'s vote, you may be sure." And Celeste smiled and yielded the point, but entertained her own opinion of the affair, none

the less.

CHAPTER VII.

IN WHICH, AT LAST, THERE IS A GRAND PASSAGE OF ARMS, AND AN EXTRAORDINARY OCCURRENCE TAKES PLACE

Ir the last chapter but one had not prepared the mind of the reflective reader for the event, common observation might have led him to conjecture with Twitty, that nothing could be more likely than rain on a fête day—especially on a day devoted to amusements, dancing on the sward, dining off maroon tables, and the like, in the open air. But because the correspondent of the Transcript showed prescience above the other parties concerned, there was even less reason for the spiteful allusion to that circumstance made by Miss Amelia in the first outbreak of disappointment, when a short inspection of out-ofwindow appearances left hope of nothing better than a cessation of the drizzle then and there obscuring the landscape.

"I knew how that fog last night would end," she said lachrymosely; "I might as well have not put up my hair, for it will all come out before we reach the house, if we are able to go at all. I almost believe that stupid Mr. Twitty put a bad mouth on the day." "Why, if it had not been for Mr. Twitty we would not have known what to do in this very case," Rosette answered, in better temper; "and as for your curls, I'll show you how to loop them up. I think you will look better too with them in that way, than hanging down in strings." With which crumbs Miss Amy was consoled, and a scant and rather uncertain glimpse of blue sky appearing before their toilettes were completed, they tripped down to breakfast in fine spirits, and assuming to themselves -as many other young ladies were doing in the parish-a lion's share of the day's pleasure.

The Major, of course, suspected nothing; he was the most unsuspicious man alive, apart from business relations, and saw only what was superficial. But it may be reasonably doubted whether a veteran like Madame Mère in affaires de cœur,

and from the very nature of her pursuits, skilled in the wiles and manoeuvres of the more youthful of Eve's representatives, conjectured an inconsiderable part of the schemes meditated by the Daphne and Phillis of this Bucolic. It would be easier to say what Miss Amy did not conjecture than what she did; her castles in the air were always rose-colored by a rising sun, and most of her landscapes spanned by a bow of promise-Cupid's bow. If Rutridge had been the most fervent of lovers, and Miss Amelia the most difficult to win of her sex, the touching scenes she meditated, where our friend should fall on one knee and salute her graciously extended hand-or in rapturous accents reveal the love he had unavailingly concealed, and sue for encouragementcould not have been more romantic or more gratifying to her self-love. Her sketches of this kind were of course out of all character, and better suited to the era of paladins and passages-of-arms, than the time being, and Mr. Edward's characteristics-whose closely trimmed beard became him better, perhaps, than would a fire-eating moustache. But a

young lady just emerged from boardingschool, where a prohibition on novel-reading amounts to dead-letter, and simple by nature, is not to be wondered at for forming the most erroneous views of active life.

The reflections of Mademoiselle were quite of another cast. If Mr. Rutridge really loved Amelia, and wished to ingratiate himself indirectly, as her friend seemed disposed to believe, she could not refuse his confidence, and indeed would gladly embrace an opportunity of hinting to him how uncalled for were his fears. But was it likely such a purpose existed elsewhere than in the imagination of her friend? and then she recalled with deepened color, the modulated voice in which our hero invariably addressed her, and much that he had said when they had chanced to be momentarily alone during the few past days.

The reflections of Rutridge himself differed little from those of these young ladies, while donning his mock armor in the pavilion appropriated to the use of the knights; and also, when prancing down the lists on his raven-black barb, in full view of the beauty of three parishes, and of Mademoiselle Bonair in particular. No doubt, he thought what a gallant figure he made, and worried the mouth of his mettlesome horse unnecessarily, to make it appear what a masterly rider he was, and to draw the eyes of a certain person upon him, to the neglect of the other cavaliers. Properly speaking, there