OCR Text |
Show Out I'Brtrlilffo Hunting. j "Did you ever go a partridge hunting, and tramp all day through the brush, tear your clothe half off, get wotter'n a drowned rat, fall in the mud and never nee so much as a feather?" queried a well known gunner. "No, indeed. When and where did all this happen?'' "Up in Sardinia the other day. Ed Andrews, the crack shot of that town, invited me to couie up there and go Khooting, claiming that tho birds were thicker in tho woods along Cattaraugus creek than honey bees in a sweet clover patch. Of course 1 went; but I came home all broke up." "And you didn't get a feather?" "Nary a one. Tried to shoot a chicken on a hen roost, but tho farmer caught me at it and chased me four miles without with-out a let up. Andrews killed a chipping bird and a red squirrel, that's all." "But you brought home some birds?" "Very true, 1 bought them on the market, the same as the other Buffalo boys do. Let's see, it cost me about $20 in cash, and I've got to buy a new suit of clothes and a new hat. Bet your tioots I don't go partridge shooting again. Tired? 1 can't walk; am lame all over, and feel like u second edition scarecrow. Andrews walked me all over four towns; wanted me to invest in real estate, too, and all that; talked about their great race track and the metropolitan Sardinia city of 1990, and filled mo so full of glorious enthusiasm that my head is cracked from ear to ear. Fun? Well, I should snicker, but one dose will last the lifetime of Methuselah!" Buffalo Commercial. |