having seen six Indians in that spot. And then again, there is Indian Castle, Indian Pond, Indian River, &c. all affording evidence to their former presence here. So let us finish our sangaree."

"Mister Seagrave's phaeton's below," said a servant entering the room; and, being unwilling to detain the horses, and anxious to see my old chum, I took my leave of Mr. X, and was presently on my road to Champaign Ground.

CHAPTER IV.

A DAY IN THE PLOVERING PASTURE.

THE migration of birds-how curious a theme! the plover and his associate the curlew, with thirty or forty other species of water-birds, wing their way across the mighty waters of the Atlantic, from regions probably unknown. Every year at this season, without any deviation, myriads of these feathered travellers of the sea and air, (for on the bosom of the former they have been seen to rest themselves, tired doubtless of their flight,) swarm among the islands in continuation of their course to the low and

swampy coasts of Guiana. Whence come they? conjecture has ever been alive to the solution of this problem; but it has never been satisfactorily solved. Some persons suppose them to come from the northern regions of America, instinctively anticipating the time when the

winter months will set in, and the ice and frost deprive them of their natural sources for the supply of food, the water, the swamp, and the mud, their food being small fish and aqueous insects; the greater number, however, living by what is termed suction. Others, that they fly from the banks of the mighty lakes and rivers of the more central parts of the great continent. Whichever it be, is not, however, of much moment to the sportsman of Barbados. He is no ornithologist, but a bird-fancier in another way, and looks forward with pleasure to the yearly recurrence of the plover's flight. 'Tis the only

recreation he has of its kind to relieve the dull monotony of his daily routine of business, or planting. No sooner does he hear some idle urchin's whistle in the street; or the cattle boy

whistling o'er the lea," than the guns are in requisition are forthwith taken from their repositories to which they have been consigned since last season, are cleaned, oiled, rubbed, and cleaned again. "Who's is the best powder?" he enquires of some friend. "Laurence and Son,-Curtis and Harvey, or Burton's? -Charles Laurence's, say you? Well, then, Sambo," (to a servant about to set off for the

capital,) "mind and enquire for Laurence and Son's powder, boy,-get me some No. 6, and No. 8; and above all, don't forget my licence. Licence! aye,-to shoot plovers is a luxury; and as we must pay for luxuries,' you know,' the legislature in their wisdom have made us pay for shooting. Two dollars for a licence ;well, it helps to swell the revenue; and who would not pay double that for shooting plo

vers!"

Before daybreak on the third of September, Seagrave and myself were mounted on our nags, and on our way to the shooting pasture, followed by several lads on foot carrying the guns and ammunition. The morning indicated rain, and we pushed on as well as the nature of our road would permit, in order to escape it, and with the hope of not only obtaining early sport, but of having to boast of being the first in the field. We were denied, however, this latter gratification; for as we entered on the land of promise, Seagrave pointed out to me the shooting hut, and we could distinguish by the dull grey light of morning, persons already moving about. We drew in our horses into a walk, and proceeded leisurely, to allow the boys to come up

with us; this slow advance giving me an opportunity to survey the scene of our intended sport. It was a large open sour-grass field, with every appearance of having been recently mowed. On a gentle eminence close to the edge of the pasture, stood the plovering or shooting hut, rudely constructed of upright posts firmly driven into the ground, and enclosed with boards; three apertures being left, one on either side as entrances, and the other in its back, for the admission of air: the roof, depending very low all round, save over the doorways, was thatched with trash-the dried leaves of the cane. We dismounted and entered this primitive fabric; Seagrave introducing me to the early sportsman who had anticipated our arrival by some four or five minutes.

He was a tall, venerable-looking old man, with close shorn hair, "white as the driven snow ;" and sat in an arm-chair enjoying most complacently his morning pipe, which he only removed from his lips when in the act of accosting us. In attendance on the old gentleman were two mulatto servants, who administered to his wants of the weed and fire, arranged on the long deal table that occupied the centre of the