here it no longer exists) in the reign of Charles II. That this early
experiment was not, however, attended by far-reaching results seems
probable, since early in the reign of George III we find the Marquis of
Hertford and other well-known sporting landowners making fresh attempts,
the stock of "Frenchmen" being renewed from time to time during the
next fifty years, chiefly on the east side of England, where they have
always been more in evidence than farther west. In Devon and Cornwall,
indeed, the bird is very rare, and in Ireland almost unknown.

Its red legs stand it in good stead, for it can run like a hare, and in
this way it often baffles the guns. It is not, however, so much its
reluctance to rise that has brought it into disrepute with keepers as
its alleged habit of ousting the native bird, in much the same way as
the "Hanover" rat has superseded the black aboriginal, although far from
the "Frenchman" driving the English partridge off the soil, there
appears to be even no truth in the supposed hostility between the two,
since they do not commonly affect the same type of country; and even
when they meet they nest in close proximity and in comparative harmony.
Nevertheless the males, even of the same species, are apt to be
pugnacious in the breeding season.

Both the partridge and landrail run serious risk from scythe and plough
while sitting on the nest. Landrails have before now been decapitated by
the swing of the scythe, and a case is on record in which a sitting
partridge, seeing that the plough was coming dangerously near her nest,
actually removed the whole clutch of eggs, numbering over a score, to
the shelter of a neighbouring hedge. This was accomplished, probably
with the help of the male, during the short time it took the plough to
get to the end of the field and back, and is a remarkable illustration
of devotion and ingenuity. Not for nothing indeed is the partridge a
game bird, for it has been seen to attack cats, and even foxes, in
defence of the covey; and I have seen, in the MS. notes of the second
Earl of Malmesbury, preserved in the library at Heron Court, mention of
one that drove off a carrion crow that menaced the family. Both
partridge and landrail sit very close, particularly when the time of
hatching is near, and Charles St. John saw a partridge, which his dog,
having taken off the nest, was forced to drop, none the worse for her
adventure, go straight back to her duties; though, as he a