n, that I had much rather be torn to pieces by the Hawk than be
shut up in a box at a convenient distance to be shot at by a dastard.
You partridges are protected during great part of the year by severe
laws, but whether such laws are wise, merciful, or just, I cannot
determine, but I know that they are strictly kept and enforced by those
who make them. Take care of yourself, for the harvest is almost ripe.

I am, your faithful,

ONE-LEGGED FRIEND AT THE GRANGE.

[Illustration]

LETTER XIII.

_FROM THE WOOD-PIGEON TO THE OWL._

MY GOOD, OLD, WISE, SECLUDED, AND QUIET FRIEND,

I write to you in the fulness of my heart, for I have been grossly
insulted by the Magpie, in a letter received this morning; in which I
am abused for what my forefathers did long before I was born. I know of
nothing more base, or more unjust, than thus raking up old quarrels[4]
and reproaching those who had nothing to do with them. The letter must
have come through your office, but I know you have not the authority to
break open and examine letters passing between those who should be
friends; I therefore do not accuse you; but sometimes the heart is
relieved by stating its troubles even when no redress can be expected. I
know that you cannot bring to punishment that slanderer, that babbler of
the woods, any more than I can; but I wish you would give me a word of
comfort, if it is ever so short.

[Illustration: OWL.]

From the plantation of firs,

Near the forest-side,

WOOD-PIGEON.

[Illustration]

LETTER XIV.

_THE OWL IN REPLY TO THE WOOD-PIGEON._

DISTRESSED NEIGHBOUR,

I am sorry for your trouble, but cheer up your spirits, and though you
are insulted, remember who it is that gives the affront, it is only the
magpie; and depend upon it that in general the best way to deal with
impudent fools is to be silent and take no notice of them. I should have
enough to do if I were to resent all her impertinences. She will come
sometimes round the ivy where I lodge in the old elm, or into the tower
on the top of the hill; and there she will pimp and pry into my private
concerns, and mob me, and call me "Old Wigsby" and "Doctor Winkum," and
such kind of names, and all for nothing. I assure you it is well for her
that she is not a mouse, or she should not long escape my talons; but
who ever heard of such a thing as eating a magpie? I live chiefly on
mice (when I am at liberty to catch them), but I have my complaints to