this, when it becomes necessary to approach them on the windward, it is usual to carry a bit of burning turf, the acid smoke of which counteracts the smell of the carrier, which would be sufficient to alarm the birds except for this precaution. The inland extremity of the pond is formed into pipes or funnel-shaped channels which narrow gradually, and have at the end a permanent net placed upon hoops. This net forms the trap in which the birds are taken, often in vast numbers at one time. In order that the decoy may be worked in all weathers, it is necessary that there should be one to suit each of the prevailing winds. We need not go farther into the details of this mode of bird catching. The ducks are enticed by tame ones, which are trained to the purpose. These birds begin to be taken in October, and the taking continues, by law, only until the following February. Beside these decoys, there are, in the places where ducks are numerous, many of the country people who shoot them, and these are called _Punt Shooters_ or _Punt Gunners_—in the creeks and openings of the streams, in the lower part of the Thames estuary, and, as they ply night and day, according as the tide answers, their labor is very severe and hazardous. This occupation once led a fowler into singular distress. It happened in the day-time. Mounted on his mud pattens (flat, square pieces of board, tied to the foot, to avoid sinking in the ooze) he was traversing one of these oozy plains in search of ducks, and being intent only on his game, suddenly found the water, which had been accelerated by some peculiar circumstance affecting the tide, had made an alarming progress around him, and he found himself completely encircled. In this desperate situation, an idea struck him as the only hope of safety. He retired to that part which seemed the highest from its being yet uncovered by water, and striking the barrel of his long gun deep in the ooze, he resolved to hold fast by it, as well as for a support as a security against the waves, and to wait the ebbing of the tide. He had reason to believe a common tide would not have flowed above his waist; but, in the midst of his reasoning on the subject, the water reached him. It rippled over his feet, it gained his knees, his waist, button after button was swallowed up, until at length it advanced over his shoulders. Fortunately for himself, he preserved his courage and hope—he held fast by his anchor, and with his eye looked anxiously about in search of some boat which might accidentally be passing. None appeared. A head upon the surface of the water, and that sometimes covered by a wave, was no object to be descried from the land at the distance of half a league; nor could he make any sounds of distress that could be heard so far. He finally concluded that his destruction was inevitable. Just now a new object attracted his attention. He thought he saw the topmost button of his coat begin to appear.