conviviality in all the freshness of youth, is appealed to.  He declares, positively, that he knows nothing so easy of digestion as a canvas-back duck; and he eats away jollily up to his assertion.  How very catching it is!—­each fresh arrival from the kitchen brings a fresh appetite to the party.  “One down, t’other come on,” is the order of the day.  Those who read, may say “Gormandizer!” But many such, believe me, if placed behind three, or even four, of these luscious birds, cooked with the artistic accuracy of the Maxwell Point cuisine, would leave a cat but sorry pickings, especially when the bottle passes freely, and jovial friends cheer you on.  Of course, I do not allude to such people as enjoy that “soaked oakum,” called “bouilli.”  To offer a well-cooked canvas-back duck to them, would, indeed, be casting pearls before—­something.  Neither would it suit the fastidious taste of those who, not being able to discern the difference between juice and blood, cook all flavour and nourishment out of their meats, and luxuriate on the chippy substance which is left.—­But time rolls on; cigars and toddy have followed; and, as we must be at our posts ere dawn, to Bedfordshire we go.

Ere the day had dawned, a hasty cup of coffee prepared us for the morning’s sport; and, lighting the friendly weed, we groped our way to our respective blinds, full of hope and thirsting for blood.  Alas! the Fates were not propitious; but few birds crossed, and those mostly out of range.  However, I managed to bag half a dozen before I was summoned to nine o’clock breakfast, a meal at which, it is needless to say, the “glorious bird” was plentifully distributed.  After breakfast, I amused myself with a telescope, watching the ducks diving and fighting for the wild celery which covers the bottom of these creeks and bays, and which is generally supposed to give the birds their rich and peculiar flavour.  They know the powers of a duck-gun to a T; and, keeping beyond its range, they come as close as possible to feed, the water being, of course, shallower, and the celery more easily obtained.  Our time being limited, we were reluctantly constrained to bid adieu to our kind and hospitable entertainers, of whose friendly welcome and good cheer I retain the most lively recollections.

Crossing the bay in a small boat, we re-entered the light carriage, and were soon “tooling away” merrily to Baltimore.  On the road, our friend amused us with accounts of two different methods adopted in these waters for getting ducks for the pot.  One method is, to find a bay where the ducks are plentiful, and tolerably near the shore; and then, concealing yourself as near the water’s edge as possible, you take a stick, on the end of which you tie a handkerchief, and keep waving it steadily backwards and forwards.  The other method is to employ a dog in lieu of the stick and handkerchief.  They have a regular breed for the purpose, about the size of a large Skye terrier,