Chapter XLVII: Part 47

WATER OUSEL, WATER CROW, DIPPER, or WATER PIOT, (_Sturnus Cinclus_,
LINN.; _Le Merle d’Eau_, BUFF.) _s._

The length of the water ousel is about seven inches and a half from the point of the beak to the end of its tail, which is very short, and gives the bird a thick and stumpy appearance. The mouth is wide; the bill black, about three quarters of an inch long; the upper mandible rather hollow in the middle and bent a little downwards at the point; the eyelids are white, and irides hazel. The upper parts of the head and of the neck are of a deepish rusty-brown; the back, rump, scapulars, wing coverts, belly, vent, and tail are black; but each feather on these parts is distinctly edged with a hoary grey colour. The breast, forepart of the neck, and throat, are of a snowy white; and the black and white on the belly and breast are separated by a rusty brown. The legs and toes are short and strong, the scales pale blue, the hinder part and joints brown; the claws are curved, and the toes are distinctly parted without any membranous substance between to join them.

This solitary species is removed from the place it has hitherto holden in all systems among the land birds: it ought not to be classed any longer with the ousels and thrushes, to which it bears no affinity. Its manners and habits are also different from those birds, and are peculiar to itself. It is chiefly found in the high and mountainous parts of the country, and always by the sides of brooks and rocky rivers, but particularly where they fall in cascades, or run with great rapidity among stones and fragments of broken rocks; there it may be seen perched on the top of a stone in the midst of the torrent, in a continual dipping motion, or short courtesy often repeated, whilst it is watching for its food, which consists of small fishes and insects. The feathers of this bird, like those of the duck tribe, are impervious to water, whereby it is enabled to continue a long time in that fluid without sustaining the least injury. But the most singular trait in its character, (and it is well authenticated) is that of its possessing the power of walking, in quest of its prey, on the pebbly bottom of a river, in the same way, and with the same ease, as if it were on dry land. The female makes her nest in the banks of the rivulet, of the same kind of material, and nearly of the same form as that of the common wren; and lays four or five eggs, which are white, lightly blushed with red.—_Bewick._

WATER RAIL, BILCOCK, VELVET-RUNNER, or BROOK OUSEL (_Rallus
Aquaticus_, LINN.; _Le Rale d’Eau_, BUFF.) _s._

This bird, though a distinct genus of itself, has many traits in its character very similar to both the corn crake and the water crake; it is migratory, like the former, to which it also bears some resemblance in its size, its long shape, and in the flatness of its body: its haunts and manner of living are nearly the same as those of the latter; but it differs from both in the length of its bill, and its plumage. It weighs about four ounces and a half, and measures twelve inches in length and sixteen in breadth. The bill is slightly curved, and one inch and three quarters long: the upper mandible is dusky, edged with red; the under reddish orange; the irides red. The top of the head, hinder part of the neck, back, scapulars, coverts of the wings and tail are black; edged with dingy brown. The ridge of the wings is white, the bastard wing barred with white, the inside barred with brown and white, and the quills and secondaries dusky. The side feathers are beautifully crossed with black and white, and slightly tipped with pale reddish brown. The inner side of the thighs, the belly, and the vent are pale brown, and in some specimens specked with bluish ash. The sides of the head, chin, forepart of the neck, and breast, are of a dark hoary lead colour, slightly tinged with pale rufous. The tail consists of twelve short black feathers, edged and tipped with dirty red; some of those on the under side barred with black and white. The legs which are placed far behind, are a dull dirty red; the toes long and without any connecting membrane. Latham says, “the eggs are more than an inch and a half long, of a pale yellowish colour, marked all over with dusky brown spots, nearly equal in size, but irregular.”

The water rail is a shy and solitary bird. Its constant abode is in low wet places, much overgrown with sedges, reeds, and other coarse herbage, among which it finds shelter, and feeds in hidden security. It runs, occasionally flirting up its tail, through its tracks, with the same swiftness as the corn crake runs through the meadows and cornfields, shows as great an aversion to take flight as that bird, and has more of the means in its power of disappointing the sportsman. It generally exhausts his patience, and distracts and misleads his dog, by the length of time to which it can protract its taking wing: and it seldom rises until it has crossed every pool, and ran through every avenue within the circuit of its retreats. It is, however, easily shot when once flushed, for it flies but indifferently, with its legs dangling down while on the wing. This bird is not very common in Great Britain, but is said to be numerous in the marshes of the northern countries of Europe, whence, partially and irregularly, it migrates southward, even into Africa, during the severity of the winter season. Buffon says, “they pass Malta in the spring and autumn,” and to confirm this, adds, “that the Viscount de Querhoent saw a flight of them at the distance of fifty leagues from the coasts of Portugal, on the 17th of April, some of which were so fatigued that they suffered themselves to be caught by the hand.” The flesh of the water rail is not so generally esteemed as that of the land rail, and yet by many it is thought rich and delicious eating.—_Bewick._

WATER RAT, _s._ A rat that makes holes in banks.

I suspect much there may be two species of water-rats. Ray says, and Linnæus after him, that the water-rat is web-footed behind. Now I have discovered a rat on the banks of our little stream that is not web-footed, and yet is an excellent swimmer and diver.

_Habits of the Water Shrew and Water Rat._—The brown rat (_Mus decumanus_) frequents water and is fond of swimming, though it does not willingly dive. The water rat (_Arvicola aquatica_, FLEMING,) again, which is the one alluded to by White, swims as readily below as above water, and feeds chiefly on the roots of water plants. White was near the truth in supposing two species of water rats, inasmuch as he was not acquainted with the water shrew (_Sorex ciliatus_, SOWERBY), so well described by Mr. Dovaston of Shrewsbury in the Magazine of Natural History. “I repeatedly,” he says, “marked it glide from the bank under water, and bury itself under the mass of leaves at the bottom. It very shortly returned and entered the bank, occasionally putting its long sharp nose out of the water and paddling close to the edge. This it repeated at very frequent intervals, from place to place, seldom going more than two yards from the side, and always returning in about half a minute. I presume it sought and obtained some insect or food among the rubbish and leaves, and retired to consume it. Sometimes it would run a little on the surface, and sometimes timidly and hastily come on shore, but with the greatest caution, and instantly plunge in again. When under water he looks gray, on account of the pearly cluster of minute air bubbles that adhere to his fur and bespangle him all over. He only appears at evening, and such is his general habit. Once, however, at broad and bright noon, while leaning on a tree gazing on the sun sparkles, like fairy lights, in numberless and eternal succession under the gentlest breath of air, I was aware of my little friend running nimbly on the surface among them. My rapture caused me to start with delight, on which he vanished to security within his rush-fringed bank.”

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During summer they reside principally in holes on the banks of rivers, ditches, and ponds; but, as winter comes on, they approach the human habitations, and very often take up their abode in barns, corn-stacks, &c. They have haunts or runs in the walls and under the floors of old houses, where they frequently injure the furniture; and they have been known to gnaw the extremities of infants while asleep. They swim with ease, and will dive after fish.

Rats increase very fast; they will bring forth three times a year, and produce from ten to fifteen at a birth. They are numerous in most large towns; and though they seek the fields on the approach of summer, it generally arises from a diminution of food about farm-houses, &c., as well as from the insecurity which they feel from the removal of the corn-stacks, the clearing of the barns, &c., at the same time that plenty of food is presented abroad in the fields. When a colony of these animals happens to take possession of a field of standing corn, they make dreadful havoc.

These animals will attack young poultry, and even the old, if pressed by hunger; and their voracity is such that they have been known to fasten on the fatter parts of living swine; nor are infants in their cradle always free from their attacks. They will destroy young game, and indeed the rat may be regarded as a general marauder.

Rats become uncommonly bold from impunity, but they are easily destroyed or driven away when proper means for that purpose are adopted. There are various methods of taking or destroying these creatures, the most effective of which will be detailed.

The weasel tribe pursue the rat as fiercely as the hare; but the rat, unlike “the poor timid hare,” does not resign itself to its fate; it is interesting to see the small weasel attack a large rat. The latter will get away, if possible; but finding escape out of the question, it turns upon its invincible assailant and fights while it is able, crying out all the time. From the active motions of the rat in this contest, as well as from its evident superiority in strength, a spectator might suppose that the business must end in the defeat or destruction of the weasel; but, after a time, the efforts of the rat evidently grow languid, while the weasel may be perceived sticking like a leech, its teeth fast hold of the rat about the head or neck. The battle lasts no great length of time; for when once the weasel has got hold, all the efforts of the rat are not sufficient to dislodge it.

The ferret, it is well known, is in general use for the destruction of rats, assisted by the terrier; and this was a kind of business or employment followed by numbers throughout the country.—_White’s Selborne_—_Gamekeeper’s Directory._

WATTLE, _s._ The barbs, or loose red flesh that hangs below the
cock’s bill; a hurdle.

WAX, _s._ The thick tenacious matter gathered by the bees; any
tenacious mass, such as is used to fasten letters; the substance
that exudes from the ear.

In this country, one hundred pounds of honey-comb will yield from three to five or six pounds of wax; in some of the southern countries nearly double that quantity. Transparent white honey is to be preferred to the higher coloured; new to old, and that of the spring to the summer or autumnal honey.

The wax being crumbled or pressed, must be boiled in water, and then strained from bags into a tub of water. The water being strained when the wax is cold, it may be collected, boiled, and when cool, will be found in a cake on the surface. It is refined by repeated boilings in fair water.—_Moubray._

WAX, _v._ To smear, to join with wax.

WEALD, _s._ A wood, a grove. Old Saxon.

WEAN, _v._ To put from the breast; to withdraw from any habit or
desire.

WEANLING, _s._ An animal newly weaned.

WEASAND, _s._ The windpipe, the passage through which the breath is
drawn and emitted.

WEASEL, _s._ A small animal that eats corn and kills rats and mice.

The hare has no enemy more fatal than the weasel, which will follow and terrify it into a state of absolute imbecility, when it gives itself up without resistance, at the same time making piteous outcries. The weasel seizes its prey near the head: the bite is mortal, although the wound is so small that the entrance of the teeth is scarcely perceptible; a hare or rabbit bit in this manner is never known to recover, but lingers for some time and dies.

The common weasel is the least animal of this species; the disproportionate length and height of the little animals which compose this class are their chief characteristics, and are alone sufficient to distinguish them from all other carnivorous quadrupeds; the length of the wolf, in proportion to its height, is as one and a half to one; that of the weasel is nearly as four to one. The weasel never exceeds seven inches in length from the nose to the tail, which is only two inches and a half long, ends in a point, and adds considerably to the apparent length of the body; the height of the weasel is not above two inches and a half, so that it is almost four times as long as it is high; the most prevailing colour is a pale tawny brown, resembling cinnamon, on the back, sides, and legs; the throat and belly white; beneath the corners of the mouth on each jaw is a spot of brown; the eyes are small, round, and black; the ears broad and large, and from a fold at the lower part have the appearance of being doubled; it has likewise whiskers like a cat, but has two more teeth than any of the cat kind, having thirty-two in number, and these well adapted for tearing and chewing its food. The motion of the weasel consists of unequal bounds or leaps, and in climbing a tree it gains a height of some feet from the ground by a single spring; in the same precipitate manner it jumps upon its prey, and possessing great flexibility of body, easily evades the attempts of much stronger animals to seize it. We are told that an eagle, having pounced upon a weasel, mounted into the air with it, and was soon after observed to be in great distress; the little animal had extricated itself so much from the eagle’s hold as to be able to fasten upon the throat, which presently brought the eagle to the ground, and gave the weasel an opportunity of escaping. Its activity is remarkable, and it will run up the sides of a wall with such facility that no place is secure from it. The weasel also preys in silence, and never utters any cry except when it is struck, when it expresses resentment or pain by a rough kind of squeaking. It is useful to the farmer in winter by clearing his barns and granaries of rats and mice.

The weasel sleeps in its hole during the greater part of the day, and evening is the chief time when it begins its depredations; it may then be seen stealing from its retreat, and creeping about in search of prey, which extends to all the eggs it can meet with, and it not unfrequently destroys the bird that tries to defend them. If it enter the henroost the chickens are sure to fall victims; it does not there often attack the cocks or old hens, nor does it devour what it kills on the spot, but drags it off to eat at leisure.

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_Ferocity of Weasels._—In the month of December, 1817, in the parish of Glencairn, a labourer was suddenly attacked by six weasels, which rushed upon him from an old dyke, in the field where he was at work. The man alarmed at such a furious onset from an unprovoked enemy, instantly betook himself to flight, in which, however, he was closely pursued, and although he had about him a large horsewhip, with which he endeavoured by several back hand strokes to stop them, yet so eager was their pursuit, that he was on the point of being seized by the throat, when he luckily noticed at some distance, the fallen branch of a tree which he made for, and hastily snatching it up, commenced in turn the attack with so much success, that he killed three of them, and put the remaining three to flight. The man’s life was in great danger, when it is ascertained that two weasels are a match for a dog.

WEATHER, _s._ State of the air, respecting either cold or heat, wet
or dryness; the change of the state of the air; tempest, storm.

_Effect of Weather in water shooting._—Fog, snow, or any other hazy weather, is very bad, as it makes every thing on the water appear large and black, and then it is that these birds (and indeed all others) soon take alarm. The novice fancies just the reverse. Fog in the fens and marshes, however, is sometimes the best weather, although quite the reverse on the sea.

Bright starlight is the very best of all times for getting at birds, as the tide flows over the mud; particularly if there is a little breeze, without wind enough to blacken the shallow water. If a cold black frost, so much the better.

Even in moonlight wigeons are easier approached than in hazy weather. In white frosts wigeons are often restless. In rain they are constantly flying and pitching. In very dark weather they are suspicious, and more on the watch than in starlight; but, if the wind blows fresh enough to drown the noise of a launching punt, some “heavy shots” may now and then be made by sweeping the surface of the mud to the sound where the flock is walking and feeding. This may sometimes be within thirty yards of the “launcher.” In mild weather, wigeons are generally scattered about like rooks, till after midnight, unless they become concentrated by the flow of the surrounding tide. But in cold weather they sit thick together.

The first night or two of thaw, after a sharp frost, is the best opportunity for this sport.—_Hawker._

WEB, _s._ Texture, anything woven; a kind of dusky film that hinders
the sight; the film or skin that connects the toes of water
fowls and dogs.

WEBBED, _a._ Joined by a film.

WEBFOOTED, _a._ Having films between the toes.

WEIGHT, _s._ Quantity measured by the balance; a mass by which, as
the standard, other bodies are examined; ponderous mass;
gravity, heaviness, tendency to the centre.

_Weight for Inches._—It may prove a matter of intelligence to those persons unconnected with the movements and terms of the sporting world, to understand that the graduated scale for a match, when made for two or more horses to run and carry weight for inches, is thus: that horses measuring fourteen hands high are to carry nine stone, above or below which height they are to carry seven pounds more or less, for every inch they are higher or lower than the fourteen hands fixed as the criterion.

_Example._—A horse measuring fourteen hands, one inch and a half, (four inches making one hand) will carry nine stone, ten pounds, eight ounces; a horse measuring thirteen hands, two inches and a half, will carry only eight stone, three pounds, eight ounces; the former being one inch and a half above the fourteen hands, the other one inch and a half below it; the weight is therefore added or diminished by the height of every inch higher or lower.

* * * * *

Whatever might have been the original intention of cocktail racing (and I have no doubt it was very laudable) it has become a regular and well-organised system of swindling and fraud. It behoves every gentleman and man of honour connected with the turf to discountenance it; and if stakes “for horses not thorough-bred” cannot be immediately expunged from every race list, a salutary check may easily be put upon it by weighting the winners in such a manner as could not fail to bring them to the proper level. Weight must and will always tell; and by this means an effectual bridle would be placed upon these nefarious cocktails at the commencement of their career. Even in regard to the age of these suspicious cocktails, that is often rendered a doubtful circumstance, as all the trickery and cunning of the men who own them are put in practice to accomplish their purpose in this respect. From information which I have no reason to doubt, a cocktail from the north, which has repeatedly won during the present season (1829) has been running as a year younger than the correct age; add to this also, little doubt can exist of the animal being as thorough-bred as any racer in the kingdom. Moreover, to say nothing of the immediate and obvious turpitude of the system of cocktail racing, it is productive of continual and never-ending disputes.—_Turf Expositor._

WELSH PONY, _s._

The ponies of Wales seem to be original and unmixed. They are much esteemed for the neatness and beauty of their forms, for the nimbleness of their motions, and, above all, for being remarkably surefooted on the most difficult roads, which renders them extremely valuable in the mountainous tracts to which they originally belong. In point of size and hardiness, they bear a near resemblance to the best of the native breed of the Highlands of Scotland, and other hilly countries in the north of Europe. These animals are too small for the two horse ploughs now in use, but few horses are equal to them for enduring fatigue on the road.

“I well remember,” says Cully, “one that I rode for many years, which, to the last, would have gone on a pavement in preference to a softer road.”—_Le Keux._

WHEAL, _s._ A pustule, a small swelling filled with water.

WHEAT, _s._ The grain of which bread is chiefly made.

WHEATEN, _a._ Made of wheat.

WHEATEAR, _s._ A small bird very delicate.

WHEEL, _s._ A circular body that turns round upon an axis; a
circular body, a carriage that runs upon wheels; rotation; a
compass about, a track approaching to circularity.

WHELP, _s._ The young of a dog, a puppy; the young of any beast of
prey.

WHELP, _v._ To bring young.

WHIMBREL (_Scolopax Pharopus_, LINN.; _Le Petit Courlis_, BUFF.)
_s._

The whimbrel is only about half the size of the curlew, which it very nearly resembles in shape, the colours of its plumage, and manner of living. It is about seventeen inches in length, and twenty-nine in breadth, and weighs about fourteen ounces. The bill is about three inches long, the upper mandible black, the under one pale red. The upper part of the head is black, divided in the middle of the crown by a white line from the brow to the hinder part; between the bill and the eyes there is a darkish oblong spot; the sides of the head, neck, and breast, are of a pale brown, marked with narrow dark streaks pointing downwards; the belly is of the same colour, but the dark streaks upon it are larger: about the vent it is quite white; the lower part of the back is also white. The rump and tail feathers are barred with black and white; the shafts of the quills are white, the outer webs totally black, but the inner ones marked with large white spots; the secondary quills are spotted in the same manner on both the inner and outer webs. The legs and feet are of the same shape and colour as those of the curlew.

The whimbrel is not so commonly seen on the sea shores of this country as the curlew; it is also more retired and wild, ascending to the highest mountain heaths in spring and summer to feed and rear its young.—_Bewick._

WHIMPER, _v._ To cry without any loud noise.

WHINNY, _v._ To make a noise like a horse or colt.

WHIP, _s._ An instrument of correction tough and pliant.

WHIPCORD, _s._ Cord of which lashes are made.

WHIPHAND, _s._ Advantage over; right hand.

WHIPLASH, _s._ The lash or small end of a whip.

WHIPPER-IN, _s._ The field assistant to the huntsman.

You that know so well how necessary it is for a pack of fox-hounds to be steady, and to be kept together, ought not to wonder that I should prefer an excellent whipper-in to an excellent huntsman. No one knows better than you do how essential a good adjutant is to a regiment; believe me, a good whipper-in is not less so to a pack of fox-hounds. But I must beg you to observe that I only mean, that I could do better with mediocrity in the one than in the other.

You say you agree with me, that a huntsman should stick close to his hounds. If then his place is fixed, and that of the first whipper-in (where you have two) is not, I cannot but think genius may be at least as useful in one as in the other: for instance, while the huntsman is riding to his head hounds, the whipper-in, if he has genius, may show it in various ways; he may clap forward to any great earth, that may by chance be open; he may sink the wind to halloo, or mob the fox, when the scent fails; he may keep him off his foil; he may stop the tail hounds, and get them forward; and has it frequently in his power to assist the hounds without doing them any hurt, provided he has sense to distinguish where he is wanted most. Besides, the most essential part of fox-hunting, the making and keeping the pack steady, depends entirely upon him; as a huntsman should seldom rate, and never flog a hound. In short, I consider the first whipper-in as a second huntsman; and to be perfect, he should be as capable of hunting the hounds as the huntsman himself.

You cannot too much recommend to your whipper-in to get to the head of his hounds before he attempts to stop them. The rating behind is to little purpose, and if they are in cover, may prevent him from knowing who the culprits are. When your hounds are running a fox, he then should content himself with stopping such as are riotous, and getting them forward. They may be condemned upon the spot, but the punishment should be deferred till the next day, when they may be taken out on purpose to commit the fault and suffer the punishment. I agree with you that young hounds cannot be awed too much; yet suffer not your punishment of them to exceed their offence. I could wish to draw a line betwixt justice and barbarity.

A whipper-in, while breaking in young hounds, sometimes will rate them before they commit the fault: this prevents them for that time, but they will be just as ready to begin the next opportunity. Had he not better let them quite alone, till he sees what they would be at? The discipline then may be proportioned to the degree of the offence. Whether a riotous young hound runs little or much is of small consequence, if he be not encouraged; it is the blood only that signifies, which in every kind of riot should carefully be prevented.

My general orders to my whipper-in are, if when he rates a hound, the hound does not mind him, to take him up immediately, and give him a severe flogging. Whippers-in are too apt to continue rating, even when they find that rating does not avail. There is but one way to stop such hounds, which is to get to the heads of them. I also tell him never on any account to strike a hound, unless the hound is at the same time sensible what it is for; never to strike a hound that does not deserve it, and to strike those hard that do.

Such of my hounds as are very riotous are taken out by themselves on the days when they do not hunt, and properly punished; and this is continued while my patience lasts, which of course depends on the value of the dog. It is a trial betwixt the whipper-in and the dog, which will tire first; and the whipper-in, I think, generally prevails. If this method will not make them steady, no other can: they are then looked upon as incorrigible, and are put away.

Such hounds as are notorious offenders should also feel the lash, and hear a rate, as they go to the cover; it may be a useful hint to them, and may prevent a severer flogging afterwards. A sensible whipper-in will wait his opportunity to single out his hound; he will then hit him hard, and rate him well; whilst a foolish one will often hit a dog he did not intend to hit; will ride full gallop into the midst of the hounds; will perhaps ride over some of the best of them, and put the whole pack into confusion. This is a manœuvre I cannot bear to see.

Have a care! are words which seldom do any harm; since hounds, when they are on a right scent, will not mind them. Let your whipper-in be careful how he encourages the hounds: that, improperly done, may spoil your pack.

A whipper-in will rate a hound, and then endeavour to flog him. A dog, after having been rated, will naturally avoid the whip. Tell your whipper-in, whenever a hound deserves the lash, to hit him first, and rate him afterwards.

When there are two whippers-in, one ought always to be forward. When there is only one, he, to be very perfect, should be a very Mungo, here, there, and everywhere.

You will find it difficult to keep your people in their proper places. I have been obliged to stop back myself to bring on hounds which my servant had left behind. I cannot give you a greater proof how necessary it is that a whipper-in should bring home all his hounds, than by telling you that I have lost an old hound for ten days, and sent all the country over to inquire after him; and at last, when I thought no more about him, in drawing a large cover in the country where he had been lost, he joined the pack: he was exceedingly emaciated, and it was a long time before he recovered. How he subsisted all that time I cannot imagine. When any of your hounds are missing, you should send the whipper-in back immediately to look for them: it will teach him to keep them more together.

The getting forward the tail hounds is a necessary part of fox-hunting, in which you will find a good whipper-in of the greatest use. He must also get forward himself at times, when the huntsman is not with the hounds; but the second whipper-in (who frequently is a young lad, ignorant of his business) on no account ought to encourage or rate a hound, but when he is quite certain it is right to do it; nor is he ever to get forward, as long as a single hound remains behind.

Halloo forward is certainly a necessary and a good halloo; but is it not used too indiscriminately?—it is for ever in the mouth of a whipper-in. If your hounds are never used to that halloo till after a fox is found, you will see them fly to it. At other times other halloos will answer the purpose of getting them on as well.

Most huntsmen, I believe, are jealous of the whipper-in: they frequently look on him as a successor, and therefore do not very readily admit him into the kennel; yet, in my opinion, it is necessary he should go there; for he ought to be well acquainted with the hounds, who should know him and follow him as well as the huntsman.—_Beckford._

WHIRLBAT, _s._ Anything moved rapidly round to give a blow.

WHIRLPOOL, _s._ A place where the water moves circularly, and draws
whatever comes within its circle towards its centre, a vortex.

WHIRRING, _a._ A word formed in imitation of the sound expressed by
it, as the “whirring pheasant.”

WHISPERER, _s._ One who speaks low; a private talker.

WHIST, _s._ A game at cards, requiring close attention and silence.

This game, which requires great care and attention, is played by four persons, who cut for partners; those who cut the two highest cards are partners against the two lowest, and the person who cuts the lowest card is entitled to the deal. In cutting, the ace is accounted the lowest.

Though it is customary for only the elder hand, and afterwards the dealer, to shuffle the cards, yet each player has a right so to do before the deal, but the elder hand ought to shuffle last, except the dealer.

The pack is afterwards cut by the right-hand adversary, and the dealer is to distribute the cards, alternately, one at a time, to each of the players, beginning with the left-hand adversary, till the last card, which must be turned up, being the trump, and left on the table till the first trick is played.

No one, before his partner plays, should intimate, that he has or has not won the trick; even the attempt to take up a trick, though won before the last partner has played, is deemed very improper. No intimations of any kind during the play of the cards between partners are to be admitted. The mistake of one party is the game of the adversary. However, there is one exception to this rule, in case of a revoke: if a person happen not to follow suit, or to trump a suit, the partner is permitted to inquire, whether he is sure he has none of that suit in his hand. This indulgence must have arisen from the severe penalties annexed to revoking, which affect the parties equally.

The person on the dealer’s left-hand is called the elder hand, and plays first; and whoever wins the trick becomes the elder hand, and plays again; and so on till all the cards are played out. The tricks belonging to each party should be turned and collected by the respective partners of whoever wins the first trick in that hand. Each trick above six is reckoned one point towards the game. The ace, king, queen, and knave of trumps, are called honours; and when either of the parties has in his own hand, or between himself and his partner, three honours, they count two points towards the game; and if they should have the four honours, they count four points. Ten points make the game.

TWENTY-FOUR SHORT RULES FOR LEARNERS.

1. Always lead from your strong suit, and be cautious of changing suits.

2. Lead through an honour when you have a good hand.

3. Lead through the strong suit, and up to the weak, except in trumps, unless strong in them.

4. Lead a trump, if you have four or five, and a good hand besides.

5. Sequences are eligible leads, of which play the highest card.

6. Follow your partner’s lead, not your adversary’s.

7. Do not lead from ace queen, or ace knave.

8. Avoid leading an ace unless you have the king to it.

9. Never lead a thirteenth card, unless trumps are out.

10. Nor trump a thirteenth card, except last player.

11. Play your best card third hand.

12. When in doubt win the trick.

13. When you lead small trumps, begin with the highest.

14. Do not trump out, when your partner is likely to trump a suit.

15. If you hold only small trumps, make them when you can.

16. Make your tricks early, and be careful of finessing.

17. Be sure to make the odd trick when in your power.

18. Never force your adversary with your best card, unless you have the next best.

19. If you have only one card of any suit, and but two or three small trumps, lead the single card.

20. Always try to keep a commanding card to bring in your strong suit.

21. In your partner’s lead, endeavour to keep the command in his hand.

22. Keep the card you turn up as long as you conveniently can.

23. Should your antagonists be 8, and you have no honour, play your best trump.

24. Always consider your score, and play your hand accordingly.

METHODS OF SCORING AT WHIST.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.
0 00 000 0000 0 0 00 000 0
00 000 0 0 0
0

0 0 0 00 0 0 0 0 00
0 0 0 00 0 0 00 0
0 0 0 00 00 0 0 —_Hoyle._

WHISTLE, _v._ To form a kind of musical sound by an inarticulate
modulation of the breath; to make a sound with a small wind
instrument; to sound shrill.

WHISTLE, _s._ Sound made by the modulation of the breath in the
mouth; a sound made by a small wind instrument; a small wind
instrument; the noise of birds; a call, such as sportsmen use to
their dogs.

WHISTLER, _s._ One who whistles.

WHITE, _s._ Whiteness, anything white; white colour; the mark at
which an arrow is shot; the albuminous part of eggs; the white
part of the eye.

WHITE TROUT, _s._ The sea trout.

The whole body is of an elegant form; the lateral line is straight; the colour between that and the top of the back, dusky and silvery intermixed; beneath the line, of an exquisite silvery whiteness; the first dorsal fin is spotted with black, and much forked; they seldom exceed a foot in length; when dressed, their flesh is red, and of most delicious flavour.

Their haunts are in rough stony streams, and at the sides and tails of them, where it is gravelly, and are sometimes to be met with in smooth gliding currents; they are to be taken with the black and green hackles (described among the standard flies) and afford great sport when hooked; they are so strong that some of them will spring with the line a yard out of the water, and that several times before they can be landed.—_Daniel._

WHITING, _s._ A small sea fish; a soft chalk.

WHITLOW, _s._ A swelling between the cuticle and cutis, called the
mild whitlow: or between the periosteum and the bone, called the
malignant whitlow.

WHOOP, _s._ A shout of pursuit; a bird.

WHOOP, _v._ To shout insultingly; to shout in the chace.

WIGEON, WHEWN, WHIRN, or PANDLED WHEW (_Anas Penelope_, LINN.; _Le
Canard Siffleur_, BUFF.) _s._ A waterfowl not unlike a wild
duck, but not so large.

This is nearly of the same size as the gadwall, weighing generally about twenty-three ounces, and measuring nearly twenty inches in length, and two feet three in breadth.

The bill is an inch and a half long, narrow, and serrated on the inner edges; the upper mandible is of a dark lead-colour, tipped with black. The crown of the head, which is very high and narrow, is of a cream-colour, with a small spot of the same under each eye; the rest of the head, the neck, and the breast, are bright rufous chestnut, obscurely freckled on the head with black spots, and darkest on the chin and throat, which are tinged with a vinous colour; a band, composed of beautifully waved, or indented narrow ash-brown and white lines, separates the breast and neck; the back and scapulars are marked with similar feathers, as are also the sides of the body under the wings, even as low as the thighs, but there they are paler; the belly to the vent is white; the ridge of the wing, and adjoining coverts, are dusky ash-brown; the greater coverts brown, edged with white, (in some specimens wholly white,) and tipped with black, which forms an upper border to the changeable green beauty-spots of the wings, which is also bordered on the under side by another stripe formed by the deep velvet black tips of the secondary quills; the exterior webs of the adjoining quills are white, and those next the back, which are very long, are of a deep brown, (in some specimens a deep black) edged with yellowish white; the greater quills are brown; the vent and upper tail-coverts black.

Wigeons commonly fly in small flocks during the night, and may be known from others by their whistling note while they are on the wing. They are easily domesticated in places where there is plenty of water, and are much admired for their beauty, sprightly look, and busy frolicsome manners.

The tail, which consists of fourteen feathers, is of a hoary brownish ash, edged with yellowish white; the two middle ones are sharp-pointed, darker and longer than the rest. The legs and toes are of a dirty lead colour, faintly tinged with green; the middle of the webs and nails black. The female is brown, the middle of the feathers deepest; the fore part of the neck and breast paler; scapulars dark brown, with paler edges; wings and belly as in the male. The young of both sexes are grey, and continue in that plain garb till the month of February, after which a change takes place, and the plumage of the male begins to assume its rich colourings, in which it is said he continues till the end of July, and then again the feathers become dark and grey, so that he is hardly to be distinguished from the female.

These birds quit the desert morasses of the north on the approach of winter, and as they advance towards the end of their destined southern journey, they spread themselves along the shores and over the marshes and lakes in various parts of the continent, as well as those of the British isles, and it is said that some of the flocks advance as far south as Egypt. They remain in these parts during the winter, at the end of which the old birds pair, and the whole tribe in full plumage take their departure northward about the end of March. While they remain with us, they frequent the same places, and feed in the same mode as the mallard, and are often taken in the decoys along with them and other kinds of ducks.—_Bewick._

WILD, _a._ Not tame, not domestic; propagated by nature, not
cultivated; desert, uninhabited; tempestuous; inconstant,
fickle; uncouth, strange; done or made without any consistent
order or plan; merely imaginary.

WILD, _s._ A desert, a tract uncultivated and uninhabited.

WILD DOG, _s._ An untrained dog; a dog run wild.

In December, 1784, a dog was left by a smuggling vessel near Boomer, on the coast of Northumberland. Finding himself deserted, he began to worry sheep, and did so much damage that he was the terror of the country, within the circuit of above twenty miles. It is asserted that when he caught a sheep, he bit a hole in the right side, and after eating the fat about the kidneys, left it. Several of them thus lacerated were found alive by the shepherds, and being properly taken care of some of them recovered and afterwards had lambs. From this delicacy of his feeding, the destruction may in some measure be conceived, as the fat of one sheep in a day would scarcely satisfy his hunger. Various were the means used to destroy him; frequently was he pursued with hounds, greyhounds, &c., but when the dogs came up to him he laid down on his back, as if supplicating for mercy, and in that position they never hurt him; he therefore laid quietly, taking his rest till the hunters approached, when he made off without being followed by the hounds, till they were again excited to the pursuit, which always terminated unsuccessfully. He was one day pursued from Howick to upwards of thirty miles’ distance, but returned thither and killed sheep the same evening. His constant residence was upon a rock on the Heugh Hill, near Howick, where he had a view of four roads that approached it, and there, in March 1785, after many fruitless attempts, he was at last shot.

* * * * *

Another wild dog, which had committed devastation among the sheep, near Wooler, in the same county (Northumberland) was on the 6th of June, 1799, advertised to be hunted on the Wednesday following by three packs of hounds, which were to meet at different places; the aid of men and firearms was also requested, with a reward promised of twenty guineas to the person killing him. This dog was described by those who had seen him at a distance, as a large greyhound, with some white in his face, neck, and one foreleg white, rather grey on the back, and the rest a jet black; an immense concourse of people assembled at the time appointed, but the chase was unprosperous; for he eluded his pursuers among the Cheviot Hills, and what is singular returned that same night to the place from whence he had been hunted in the morning, and worried an ewe and her lamb. During the whole summer he continued to destroy sheep, but changed his quarters, for he infested the fells, sixteen miles south of Carlisle, where upwards of sixty sheep fell victims to his ferocity. In September, hounds and fire-arms were again employed against him, and after a run from Carrock Fell, which was computed to be thirty miles, he was shot whilst the hounds were in pursuit, by Mr. Lewel of Wedlock, who laid in ambush at Moss Dale. During the chase, which occupied six hours, he frequently turned upon the headmost hounds, and wounded several so badly as to disable them. Upon examination he appeared of Newfoundland breed, of a common size, wire-haired, and extremely lean. This description does not tally with the dogs so injurious to the farmers in Northumberland, although from circumstances there is little doubt but it was the same animal.—_Daniel._

WILDFIRE, _s._ A composition of inflammable materials, easy to take
fire, and hard to be extinguished.

WILD FOWL SHOOTING, _s._ To shoot water fowl.

During the time of long frosts, if going on the water or into the marshes, after the wild fowl, does not suit the shooter’s convenience or choice, by attending the brooks and small rivers that are only partially frozen early of a morning, and following their course, he may frequently find diversion, and be almost certain of meeting with wild ducks searching both for food and fresh water; he will be also equally sure to get shots, for they will not rise until he is close upon them. In extreme severity of frost, with hard and permanent snow, the warm springs which do not freeze are spots that then seldom fail, as the wild ducks are confined to these places in order to procure the aquatic herbs growing there, and which are almost the sole food that remains for them at this inclement period.

In following wild fowl, it is easier to get within twenty yards of them by going to leeward, than a hundred and fifty if directly to windward; so very acute is their sense of smelling.

* * * * *

The coast between Hampshire and the Isle of Wight is peculiar, consisting, at ebb tide, of vast muddy flats, covered with green sea-weed: it affords the fowler an opportunity of practising arts perhaps not elsewhere resorted to. Fowling and fishing are indeed on this coast commonly the employment of the same person. He who in summer with his line or net, plies the shores, when they are overflowed by the tide; in winter, with his gun, as evening draws on, runs up in his boat among the little creeks, which the tide leaves in the mudlands, and lies in patient expectation of his prey. Sea-fowl usually feed by night, when, in all their multitudes, they come down to graze on the savannahs of the shore. As the sonorous cloud advances, the attentive fowler listens which way they bend their course:—perhaps he has the mortification to hear them alight at too great a distance for his gun to reach them; and if he cannot edge his boat round some winding creek, which it is not always in his power to do, he despairs of success that night: perhaps, however, he is more fortunate, and has the satisfaction to hear the airy noise approach nearer, till at length the host settles in some place upon the edge of which his boat is moored. He now, as silently as possible, primes both his pieces anew, (for he is generally doubly armed) and listens with all his attention: it is so dark that he can take no aim; for if he could discern the birds, they would also see him; and being exceedingly timorous, would seek some other pasture. Though they march with noise, they feed in silence; some indistinct noises, however, if the night be still, issue from so vast a concourse; he directs his piece, therefore, towards the sound, fires at a venture, and instantly catching up his other gun, discharges it where he supposes the flock to rise on the wing. His gains for the night are now decided, and he has only to gather his harvest. He immediately puts on his mud pattens (flat square pieces of board, which the fowler ties to his feet, that he may not sink in the ooze) ignorant yet of his success, and goes groping about in the dark in quest of his booty, picking up sometimes many, and perhaps none. And, after all, others frequently enjoy more from his labours than himself: for the tide often throws, next day, on different parts of the shore, many of the birds which he killed, but could not find in the night.

This hazardous occupation once led a fowler into singular distress:—it happened too in the day-time, which shows still more forcibly the risk of such nocturnal expeditions. Mounted on his mud pattens, 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 for a support as a security against the waves, and to wait the ebbing of the tide.—He had reason to believe that a common tide would not have flowed above his middle; but, in the midst of his reasoning upon the subject, the water had reached him:—it rippled over his feet—it gained his knees, his waist:—button after button was swallowed up, until at length it flowed over his shoulders! With a palpitating heart, he gave himself up for lost! Still, however, he held fast by his anchor:—his eye was eagerly in search for some boat, which might accidentally be passing, but 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 exert any sounds of distress that could be heard so far! While, as the exigence would allow, he was thus making up his mind to the terrors of certain destruction, his attention was called to a new object:—he thought he saw the uppermost button of his coat begin to appear! No mariner floating on a wreck could behold approaching succour with greater transport than he felt at the transient view of his button; but the fluctuation of the water was such, and the turn of the tide so slow, that it was yet some time before he durst venture to assure himself that the button was fairly above the level of the flood; at length, a second button appearing at intervals, his sensations may rather be conceived than described; and his joy gave him spirits and resolution to support his situation four or five hours longer, until the water had fully retired.—_Daniel_—_Gilpin._

WILD TURKEYS, _s._ Turkeys not domesticated.