country gentleman who would learn the requirements of a good keeper ; to the naturalist who delights in roaming about the woods and fields, and observing the habits of wild animals ; and to the keeper himself, to whom many a piece of sound advice and useful "wrinkle" is imparted. To these three classes we might almost add a fourth — the poacher ; but we must assume that the descrip- tions which are given of various nefarious practices to which these gentry are addicted are not intended for the rising generation of poachers, but for the guidance of the keeper, and the safeguard of his master's game.
From the scenery described, and some of the provincialisms introduced, one would say that the book might have been written in close proximity to the Wiltshire Downs ; but as the author has chosen to omit his name from the title-page, it is perhaps scarcely fair to attempt to withdraw the veil which conceals his identity. The writer, whoever he may be, has a facile pen, and the art of describing what he observes truthfully and forcibly, producing not unfrequently a picturesque effect by a skilful assemblage of common-place objects. His description of the woods in wet weather (p. 41), the park in spring (p. 62), and the haunts of birds (p. 65), may be cited as instances of this. The following extract will give some idea of the author's style : —
the bushes, watching the Woodpeckers on the ant-hills, of whose eggs, too, the Partridges are so fond (so that a good ant year, in which their nests are prolific, is also a good Partridge year), you may, if you are still, hear a slight faint rustle in the hedge, and by and by a weasel will steal out. Seeing you he instantly pauses, elevates his head, and steadily gazes ; move but your eyes, and he is back in the hedge ; remain quiet, still looking straight before you, as if you saw nothing, and he will presently recover confidence, and actually cross the gateway almost under you.
"This is the secret of observation : stillness, silence, and apparent indifference. In some instinctive way these wild creatures learn to dis- tinguish when one is, or is not, intent upon them in a spirit of enmity ; and if very near, it is always the eye they watch. So long an you observe them, as it were, from the corner of the eyeball, sideways, or look over their heads at something beyond, it is well. Turn your glance full upon them to get a better view, and they are gone.
"When waiting in a dry ditch with a gun on a warm autumn afternoon for a rabbit to come out, sometimes a bunny will suddenly appear at the
mouth of a hole which your knee nearly touches. He stops dead, as if