dans un Anagramme de Lovys Treiziesme Roy de France et de Navarre se trouve Roy tres-Rare estimé Diev De La Fauconnerie.'

This same D'Arcussia gives a remarkably graphic account of a flight at herons with gyrfalcons in France about this perioda sport which may now be considered all but obsolete in England. Professor Newton-a high authority on this and all kindred subjects-says, 'The flight of the heron to his home, when the best opportunity is afforded to the falconer, is, nowadays, rendered uncertain and rare, through the complete drainage of wide tracts of lands, and the larger heronries are, in a great measure broken up, and their inhabitants scattered.' We feel, therefore, tempted, anxious as we are to limit our remarks to falconry in the British Islands, to ask our readers for once to cross the Channel, and accept, at our hands, a translation from the quaint old French of a most exciting episode.

**

While accompanying the Sieur de Ligne, who had charge of 'Le Vol de Heron,' the piqueurs discover three herons, and Le Sieur determines to attack them :

'Having given me a white Gyr Falcon, called La Perle, to throw off, he took another himself, styled Le Gentilhomme, and one of his assistants had a third, named Le Pincon. As soon as the herons perceived us they took flight from a great distance, and we immediately threw off our hawks, who were a long time before they saw them. At last, however, one of them got sight of the quarry, and away she went. The two others followed with such ardour and rapidity that they were soon up with the herons, and attacking one, which made a tolerable fight, but he was so resolutely assaulted that he could not defend himself effectually, and he was quickly captured. While we were diverting the hawks, the other herons, terrified at the bad treatment their companion had received, continued to mount directly towards the sun, as if to conceal themselves in his lightpour se couvrier de la clarté-but M. de Ligne perceiving them, called out to me, "I see two herons mounting up there, and I intend one of them for you; but observing that they were at such a tremendous height, I replied that the hawks would have great difficulty in reaching them. However, he throws off his Gyrfalcon, and we doing the same with ours, they rise with such rapidity, that in a short time we can see they have attained as great a height as the heron. Still working upwards they at last get above him, and begin to strike him,

*Yarrell's History of British Birds,' fourth edition, revised by Alfred Newton, M.A., F.R.S., to which we conscientiously refer such of our readers as are anxious to study the natural history of British falcons-a perfect biography of each species, narrated in the happiest manner. If any product of science can in these days be characterised as exhaustive, we venture to predict that the term will be applicable to this edition, the earlier numbers of which are now passing through the press. For the modest word 'revised,' rewritten might almost be substituted.

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and to give him such repeated blows that he gets confused-il s'estonne -and we see him descending rapidly in his efforts to gain the covert. Then we pushed on to bring the dogs to the assistance of the hawks, which was well timed, for the heron had thrown himself into a copse, where we took him alive from the mouth of a hound who had nearly throttled him, and after amusing the hawks with the first-faisant plaisir du premier aux oyseaux-we mounted again on horseback to search for another. As we rode along, M. de Ligne kept looking towards the sun, trying to see the third heron. At last one of his people saw it, and pointed it out to us; upon which M. de Ligne says "We have now two herons, one for you and one for me; the hawks ought to have one for themselves." While saying this he unhooded his falcon, who instantly opened her wings, at the same time directing her gaze upwards. She only waited long enough to get a sight of the quarry, when away she went. Then we threw off

to me,

the two others, and the three birds seemed to be flying, at the same moment, in different directions, in their efforts to mount. At first I could easily observe their manoeuvres, but finally I lost sight of them altogether; so I determined to keep my eyes fixed upon the heron itself, and although I had a severe pain in the neck from looking upwards such a length of time, yet the intense enjoyment of the sport made me think little about it. Well! after some time I got a glimpse of one of the hawks, which looked no bigger than a little fly, then we discovered a second, and at last saw all three. The first who stooped did it with such effect that she drove the heron downwards sixty feet-dix toises; and the two others repeating their blows in a similar manner, each in his turn, the heron was soon stunned, and began to descend. At this moment one of the hawks was observed to bind to him, when down he came, and the hounds running in at the same moment to assist, quickly killed him. We came up soon afterwards, when all the hawks were rewarded for their capture, and thus ended our day's sport.'

Although falconry always retained many votaries in England, and especially in Scotland, during the time of the First and Second Charles, yet, as before observed, we may date the commencement of its decline from the latter part of James I.'s reign. Besides the introduction of the fowling-piece about that period, the civil wars that ushered in the Commonwealth, and the morose and puritanical tone of society, combined to discourage it as a national pastime, and to inflict a blow from which it never afterwards entirely recovered. About the close of the last century, however, a galaxy of honoured names stands forth as patrons of the art; still later, at the very time when Napoleon's wars had almost banished it from the Continent, Lord Orford, Mr. Colquhoun, Colonel Wilson (afterwards Lord Berners), Colonel Thornton, and Sir John Sebright, were preeminent, and, at a subsequent period, the Duke of Leeds,

Colonel

Colonel Bonham, Mr. Downes, and Mr. Newcome; while, as we can testify from personal experience, there still exist several devoted admirers of falconry in the British Islands, who, in certain favoured localities, practise it with considerable success, such as Mr. Salvin, Mr. Brodrick, Colonel Delmé Radcliffe,* the Honourable Cecil Duncombe, † and others, though his Grace, the Hereditary Grand Falconer of England brought to an end the Royal Hawking Establishment, which, for a long time previously, had been reduced to a single attendant.

The raven must have been a grand quarry in olden time, and, although from the scarcity of the species at the present day it may be said to have altogether subsided, yet we believe that the late Mr. Newcome, in his earlier years, succeeded in taking more than one with a gyrfalcon. Turberville,‡ in describing the sport in Russia during the fifteenth century, says:

The Raven truly is a monstrous strong flight, by meane he is of so great force and might of wing, and withall doth use to make so many turnes in the ayre as you shall see no other fowl do the like. Yet is he occasionally forced to take refuge in a pine or fir-tree, but,' he adds, 'that shifte little prevails, for no sooner is she perched but presently, by commandment of the Emperor, each Muscovite drawing his hatchet from his back, without which toole they never travell in that country, bestowéth his force to the felling the tree. In the meantime the falcons are waiting overhead, and the raven being compelled to take fresh flight when the tree falls, is at last 'slayne by her mightie adversaries, the Gyrfalcons, who most greedily do seaze upon her, as their kind hath taught them to do.'

But although the king of the Corvida has become so rare a bird in the British Islands, as no longer to furnish a subject for such imperial sport, yet his congeners, the carrion crow and the rook, intelligent, large-brained, and endowed with great power of wing, afford, in our opinion, the best substitutes.

We are aware that among modern falconers a variety of opinion exists as to the relative attractions of rook and game hawking. Having had the good fortune to witness many successful flights at grouse and partridges, as well as at rooks and crows, we venture unhesitatingly, from our own experience, to assign the palm to the latter.§ In game-hawking, the falcon, or tiercel,

*Colonel Delmé Radcliffe's 'Notes on the Falconida used in India' are a valuable contribution to the ornithology of that country.

At once a munificent patron and an accomplished falconer, no man of the present day has done more than Mr. Duncombe to revive the practice of the art. The Book of Faulconrie or Hawking, for the onely delight and pleasure of all Noblemen and Gentlemen,' by George Turberville, Gentleman, A.D. 1575. § To those utilitarian sportsmen who have an especial eye to the cuisine, and for that reason alone despise the latter flight, we recommend the perusal of the following

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tiercel, waits on' overhead, and when the pack or covey is sprung, descends with an impetuous rush on a selected victim, and, if successful, generally strikes it near the ground, frequently out of sight of the field. In rook-hawking, which can only be practised to advantage in an open country, the hawk is not unhooded until the quarry takes wing, or is on the point of doing so; and although the character of the subsequent flight may vary in every possible way, yet, as a rule, while the hawk is climbing' in a wide circle to attain sufficient height, the rounder-winged rook starts off at once in a direct line, attaining a great elevation in a comparatively short time. The fleeter falcon, however, soon comes up, and makes her stoop or clutch. If a clever 'footer,' a despairing croak from her victim reaches your ears, and down they come, like a feathered parachute, to the ground; but, fortunately, the first stoop is seldom successful, and the hawk is then seen far below the rook; and while the latter ascends rapidly, so as to get higher than ever above his persecutor, the former, from her length of wing, is compelled to perform the same evolution spirally. Then comes an exciting stern chase; and putting spurs to your horse you gallop over the plain, with eyes directed upwards, regardless of the deep cart

following anecdote from Colonel Thornton's Sporting Tour,' premising for the advantage of the uninitiated reader that a great owl (Strix bubo) used to be thrown up to attract the kite :

"The Southern gentlemen, particularly those in the vicinity of the metropolis, never see game of any kind without expressing instantaneously their inclination for a roast; nor is this peculiarity confined to them, for every alderman expresses on such occasions the same emotions. I remember a singular instance that cannot but be recollected likewise by those members of the Falconer's Club who were present, and there was a large field. A Mr. A., attended by a little hump-back servant, with a large portmanteau, joined our party, ranging for kite, near Elden Gap. At length one was seen in the air, and I ordered the owl to be flown. He came, as we wished, at a proper distance. The day was fine, and the hawks, particularly Javelin and Icelanderkin, in the highest order; and with them Crocus, a famous flight falcon. Never was there a finer day, keener company, or, for six miles, a finer flight. When he was taken, in an ecstasy I asked Mr. A. how he liked kite-hawking? He replied, with a sort of hesitation that expressed but small pleasure, "Why, pretty well." We then tried for hare, with a famous hawk called Sans Quartier. After ranging a little we found one, and in about two miles killed it. Mr. A. coming up again slowly, unwilling, or unable to leave his portmanteau, I repeated my former question; and though the flight of a hare is fine, yet, being in no way equal to that of a kite, was surprised to see his countenance brighten up, and to hear him express himself with uncommon pleasure; "Ay that," he said, "was a nobler kind of hawking; the hare would be of use a good roast-the kite of none." Desirous to gratify his wishes, and to get rid on such casy terms of the trouble the servants would have to carry an old jack hare in the month of May, I begged his acceptance of it, to which he very readily assented; and his servant was ordered to add this trophy on the top of the enormous portmanteau. I leave every sportsman to guess the observations that were made by a set of lively young men on the occasion.-From footnote, pp. 37, 38, of Colonel Thornton's 'Sporting Tour through the Northern parts of England and great part of the Highlands of Scotland.' 4to. London, 1804.

ruts

ruts that occasionally cross your course. As the rook ascends, and almost disappears in the distance, you fear that the falcon will never be up in time, but the next moment she shoots over your head like an arrow, and is soon far away and in a favourable position for dealing the fatal blow. Once more she misses the clutch, as the artful rook, by a fortunate dodge, eludes her grasp, and again the same tactics are repeated by both birds. Now they look like two specks in the sky, and you hardly distinguish one from the other, but these suddenly melt into one, which descends rapidly to the earth, and you must be well mounted if you are up in time, before life has departed from the quarry, over which the conqueror now strides with evident

exultation.

The loss of a falcon during a flight of this kind is not unusual, especially in a high wind. We have witnessed more than one. Sometimes, after several ineffectual stoops at a wily crow, she becomes disgusted, and rakes off in pursuit of a passing wood-pigeon. Then 'Greek meets Greek' in a contest of speed; and perhaps at last, like Noah's dove, she returns no more. Untoward accidents of various kinds are liable to occur. An unconscionable gunner, deaf to the warning tinkling of her bells, will sometimes take a pot shot at a trained falcon ; but one of the most touching and humiliating incidents of this kind we ever witnessed occurred a few years ago on Salisbury Plain. A perfect falcon, Juno,' worthy of her name, had just treated us to a grand aerial exhibition, such as we have described; after a sternchase of a couple of miles we came up at full gallop to the spot where she had descended, with her quarry in her clutches-a cottage garden on the very borders of the plain. Alas! we were too late. What did we behold! An elderly cripple, leaning on one crutch, while he flourished the other aloft-the weapon with which he had just brained poor Juno, who lay in convulsions at his feet. An ignoble end for the Queen of Olympus!

Sir John Sebright, in his concise but valuable little book says: 'Hawking, the favourite diversion of our ancestors, is now so fallen into disuse that the art of Falconry is in danger of being entirely lost,' and the authors of the beautiful work whose title we have prefixed to this article, modestly state, in their introduction, that Sir John Sebright's Observations on Hawking' gives the sketch from which they hope to fill up the picture. It is not too much to say that they have creditably performed the task.' Commencing almost ab ovo, we are introduced to

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* Our authors, it is true, seem open to a charge of unduly depreciating what they term the 'Dutch School' of falconry, and of maintaining the entire dis

tinctness