Then there was pigeon-netting. This is an old sport that has, I suppose, died out in New England. In my boyhood, however, great flocks of wild pigeons used to come to the New England woods and forests. The device for catching large numbers of them by netting was quite primitive, but effective. My uncle Francis (for whom I was named), whom I used to help net pigeons, was quite a sportsman. He was fond of fishing, and he was a great hand at the nets. We had two places for spreading the nets, one in the "vineyard" and the other in a "burnt-hill" in the forest. All the foliage was stripped from several trees that were close together. Then we would arrange the net so it could be drawn together at the right time, spread it over the ground, and bait it. Then we would plant our stool-pigeons. As soon as we saw a flock of pigeons approaching we would stir the stool-pigeons by pulling on a string to which they were attached. They would move about, as if they were really alive. The pigeons would circle about the spot, attracted by the fluttering stool-pigeons, and then they would catch sight of the grain and come down. When the net was filled with them, we would draw the strings, and sometimes we caught as many as a hundred at a time. They were then killed and sold. By such work as this I was earning my own support. This is a sample of my life on the farm from four to ten years. I wore one suit of clothes a year, and the suit cost originally not more than $10, and was made at home. I had some little pocket-money occasionally. I was permitted to sell the rabbits and partridges, the spoil of my traps and gun. These small resources usually enabled me to keep a few cents--sometimes a few dollars--in my pockets. There is nothing more extravagant and truly wasteful than a boy with a few dollars in his pockets. He can throw away his slender fortune with magnificent bravado. One summer I had accumulated $17, and, naturally, I was itching to spend it. The hired man was going up to Concord to help celebrate "Cornwallis Day" (October 19), and I got consent to accompany him. There was to be a fair, and I took my money with me--very stupidly. The memory of it was soon all that remained. My first step in extravagance was the purchase of a bunch of firecrackers. It cost me, apparently, ten cents; but actually it was my financial undoing, and cost me $17. I began to pop the crackers, and soon had a crowd of boys around me. They were envious of me. They didn't have money to buy crackers. I popped away with great nonchalance, but husbanding my ammunition and popping only a single cracker at a time. This was strategy of a high order; but I could not keep it up. I didn't know the resourcefulness of boy-nature. Presently, I heard a boy whisper just behind me, to one of his companions: "Just wait a minute, and you will see him touch off the whole pack!"