will resign ourselves to fate, and make the best of it. Look down into the
valley where Green Brook comes singing and bubbling out from the deep
shade of the hemlocks into the open meadows! The snow has melted away from
its margin, and the brown sward is smiling in the cheerful afternoon sun.
There, on that tall stump, on the other side, sits a sentinel crow, while
his companions are strolling about catching up dainties which the frost
and snow have hid from their vision the winter long. Hurra! hurra! see
over the edge of Pine Hill come the first pigeons of the season from the
warm south! Look how they rise and fall again in their easy flight, as
they pass up the valley and go whirring in among the dense evergreens. I
told you we should see pigeons soon, but you thought it too early. We will
have sport to-morrow, if it is warm. For the present, let us see whether
Hans' old fowling-piece is still safe from rust. Here it stands behind his
bed-room door, dressed up like an old maid for a sailing party, all in
flannels. There, Peter, is a true 'stubb-and-twist,' and the locks,
although rather out of fashion, are still as elastic as ever. This Hans
himself will use to-morrow; for it is an old friend and might feel hurt to
be entrusted to the care of a stranger. Here, Jim, run down to Colonel
Hyde's and borrow his long double-barrel; but don't tell him that pigeons
have been seen, or he will want to use it himself. Get a cannister of
Dupont, and half a dozen pounds of No. 4 shot. None of the fine
mustard-seed or robin, but the heavy duck-shot, that will enter at twenty
rods. That is the kind for pigeons, their feathers are so compact; for if
you fire at them flying, you might as well toss turnip-seed at them as to
shoot fine shot that will glance from their sleek feathers like drops of
rain.

Here comes Jim, with the colonel's gun. Is it not a grand one? Now for
cleaning the pieces, and filling the flasks and shot-belts. Look out, or
you will scald your fingers with the hot water. A little more soap, and
the barrels are as clean as a silver thimble. Snap! These are fine caps:
put this box into your pocket, or we shall forget it. Let us look out at
the sunset before tea, and then go to bed early, that we may be up in
season for to-morrow's sport.

How broadly and slowly the sun sinks behind the forest! The glowing points
of his diadem reach to the zenith, and the purple clouds that float around
the west, dazzle the eye as the