The Project Gutenberg eBook of Illustrative Anecdotes Of The Animal Kingdom, by S. G. Goodrich.

The purpose of the present volume is to exhibit a series of well-authenticated anecdotes, calculated to illustrate the character and habits of the more prominent species of the animal kingdom. The plan of the work, of course, excludes full scientific descriptions; but it has been thought that it may be more useful, as well as interesting, to arrange the subjects according to the most approved system of classification, and to indicate, briefly, the leading traits of the several orders and genera. 1

[1] For a more scientific account of the animal kingdom, the reader is referred to "A Pictorial Natural History," &c., published by James Munroe & Co., Boston.

The mammalia include not only man, the head of creation, but, generally, those animals which have the most numerous and perfect faculties, the most delicate perceptions, the most varied powers, and the highest degrees of intelligence. All the species have a double heart; red, warm blood; and a nervous system more fully developed than that of any other animals. This class is divided into nine orders, under each of which we shall notice some of the more remarkable species.

Of this race there is one species, yet divided into many nations, kingdoms, and tribes. These are all grouped under five races: 1. The Caucasian, or white race, including the most highly civilized nations; 2. The Mongolian, or yellow race, including the Tartars, Chinese, Japanese, &c.; 3. The Malay, or brown race, including the people of Malacca, and most of the Oceanic islands; 4. The American, or red race, including the American Indians; and 5. The African, or black race, including Negroes.

Philosophers have been a good deal puzzled for a definition of man; yet it would seem by no means difficult to point out characteristics which distinguish him from all other animated beings. He is not only the acknowledged lord and master of the animal kingdom, but he is the only being that knows God, yet the only one that worships stones, apes, and idols; the only being that has the Bible, and the only one that makes systematic warfare on his own species. He is the only created being that perceives the force of moral obligation, and the only one that makes slaves of his fellow-beings; he is the only creature that has reason, and yet the only one that besots himself with intoxicating drugs and drinks. Man is the only being that has tasted of the tree of knowledge, and yet the only one that appears, in all ages and countries, to be a fallen being,—one not fulfilling, here on the earth, the purposes of his creation. Must we not, from the analogy of the works of God, look to a future state, to find the true end of human existence?

That we may not omit to give at least one illustrative and characteristic anecdote, under the head of "homo sapiens," we copy the following from the quaint pages of Carlyle:—

"What, speaking in quite unofficial language, is the net purport of war? To my own knowledge, for example, there dwell and toil, in the British village of Dumdrudge, usually, some five hundred souls. From these, by certain 'natural enemies' of the French, there are successively selected, during the French war, say thirty able-bodied men. Dumdrudge, at her own expense, has suckled and nursed them; she has, not without difficulty and sorrow, fed them up to manhood, and even trained them to crafts—so that one can weave, another build, another hammer, and the weakest can stand under thirty stone avoirdupois. Nevertheless, amid much weeping and swearing, they are selected, all dressed in red, and shipped away at the public charge some 2000 miles, or, say, only to the south of Spain, and fed there till wanted.

"And now to that same spot, in the south of Spain, are thirty similar French artisans, from a French Dumdrudge, in like manner wending; till, at length, after infinite effort, the parties come into actual juxtaposition, and thirty stand fronting thirty, each with a gun in his hand. Straightway the word 'Fire' is given, and they blow the souls out of one another; and instead of sixty brisk, useful craftsmen, the world has sixty dead carcasses, which it must bury, and anon shed tears for. Had these men any quarrel? Busy as the devil is, not the smallest. They lived far enough apart, were the entirest strangers; nay, in so wide a universe, there was indeed unconsciously, by commerce, some mutual helpfulness between them. How then? Simpleton! their governors had fallen out; and instead of shooting one another, had the cunning to make these poor blockheads shoot."

This numerous order of animals is divided into three families: 1. Apes, which are destitute of tails; 2. Baboons, having short tails; 3. Monkeys, having long tails. The whole group are confined to warm countries, and none but the latter kinds are met with in America. They are not found in Europe, except at Gibraltar. Here, among the rocks, are considerable numbers of apes; and it has been conjectured that they come hither from the African coast, by means of passages under the Straits. This idea, however, is groundless. No doubt these animals were once common in Europe; but they have been gradually extirpated, except at Gibraltar, where they have made a stand. Its rocks and caverns seem to have proved as impregnable a garrison to them as to the British.

The Orang-Outang;—a native of Cochin China, Malacca, and the large adjacent islands. It has a countenance more like that of man than any other animal. It seldom walks erect, and seems to make its home in the trees. It is covered with reddish brown hair.

An Orang-Outang in Holland.—This was a female, brought to that country in 1776. She generally walked on all fours, like other apes, but could also walk nearly erect. When, however, she assumed this posture, her feet were not usually extended like those of a man, but the toes were curved beneath, in such a manner that she rested chiefly on the exterior sides of the feet. One morning she escaped from her chain, and was seen to ascend with wonderful agility the beams and oblique rafters of the building. With some trouble she was retaken, and very extraordinary muscular powers were, on this occasion, remarked in the animal. The efforts of four men were found necessary in order to secure her. Two of them seized her by the legs, and a third by the head, whilst the other fastened the collar round her body.

During the time she was at liberty, among other pranks, she had taken a bottle of Malaga wine which she drank to the last drop, and then set the bottle again in its place. She ate readily of any kind of food which was presented to her; but her chief sustenance was bread, roots, and fruit. She was particularly fond of carrots, strawberries, aromatic plants, and roots of parsley. She also ate meat, boiled and roasted, as well as fish, and was fond of eggs, the shells of which she broke with her teeth, and then emptied by sucking out the contents. If strawberries were presented to her on a plate, she would pick them up, one by one, with a fork, and put them into her mouth, holding, at the same time, the plate in the other hand. Her usual drink was water; but she also would drink very eagerly all sorts of wine, and of Malaga, in particular, she was very fond. While she was on shipboard, she ran freely about the vessel, played with the sailors, and would go, like them, into the kitchen for her mess. When, at the approach of night, she was about to lie down, she would prepare the bed on which she slept by shaking well the hay, and putting it in proper order; and, lastly, would cover herself up snugly in the quilt.

One day, on noticing the padlock of her chain opened with a key, and shut again, she seized a little bit of stick, and, putting it into the keyhole, turned it about in all directions, endeavoring to open it. When this animal first arrived in Holland, she was only two feet and a half high, and was almost entirely free from hair on any part of her body, except her back and arms; but, on the approach of winter, she became thickly covered all over, and the hair on her back was at least six inches long, of a chestnut color, except the face and paws, which were somewhat of a reddish bronze color. This interesting brute died after having been seven months in Holland.

An Orang-Outang killed in Sumatra.—This specimen measured eight feet in height when suspended for the purpose of being skinned. The form and arrangement of his beard were beautiful; there was a great deal of the human expression in his countenance, and his piteous actions when wounded, and great tenacity of life, rendered the scene tragical and affecting. On the spot where he was killed, there were five or six tall trees, which greatly prolonged the combat; for so great were his strength and agility in bounding from branch to branch, that his pursuers were unable to take a determinate aim, until they had felled all the trees but one. Even then he did not yield himself to his antagonists till he had received five balls, and been moreover thrust through with a spear. One of the first balls appears to have penetrated his lungs, for he was observed immediately to sling himself by his feet from a branch, with his head downwards, so as to allow the blood to flow from his mouth. On receiving a wound, he always put his hand over the injured part, and distressed his pursuers by the human-like agony of his expression. When on the ground, after being exhausted by his many wounds, he lay as if dead, with his head resting on his folded arms. It was at this moment that an officer attempted to give him the coup-de-grace by pushing a spear through his body, but he immediately jumped on his feet, wrested the weapon from his antagonist, and shivered it in pieces. This was his last wound, and his last great exertion; yet he lived some time afterwards, and drank, it is stated, great quantities of water. Captain Cornfoot also observes, that the animal had probably travelled some distance to the place where he was killed, as his legs were covered with mud up to the knees.

An Orang-Outang brought to England.—Dr. Clark Abel has given the following interesting account of an orang-outang which he brought from Java to England: "On board ship an attempt being made to secure him by a chain tied to a strong staple, he instantly unfastened it, and ran off with the chain dragging behind; but finding himself embarrassed by its length, he coiled it once or twice, and threw it over his shoulder. This feat he often repeated; and when he found that it would not remain on his shoulder, he took it into his mouth. After several abortive attempts to secure him more effectually, he was allowed to wander freely about the ship, and soon became familiar with the sailors, and surpassed them in agility. They often chased him about the rigging, and gave him frequent opportunities of displaying his adroitness in managing an escape. On first starting, he would endeavor to outstrip his pursuers by mere speed; but when much pressed, eluded them by seizing a loose rope, and swinging out of their reach. At other times, he would patiently wait on the shrouds, or at the mast-head, till his pursuers almost touched him, and then suddenly lower himself to the deck by any rope that was near him, or bound along the main-stay from one mast to the other, swinging by his hands, and moving them one over the other. The men would often shake the ropes by which he clung with so much violence, as to make me fear his falling; but I soon found that the power of his muscles could not be easily overcome. When in a playful humor, he would often swing within arm's length of his pursuer, and having struck him with his hand, throw himself from him.

"Whilst in Java, he lodged in a large tamarind-tree near my dwelling, and formed a bed by intertwining the small branches, and covering them with leaves. During the day, he would lie with his head projecting beyond his nest, watching whoever might pass under; and when he saw any one with fruit, would descend to obtain a share of it. He always retired for the night at sunset, or sooner if he had been well fed, and rose with the sun, and visited those from whom he habitually received food.

"Of some small monkeys on board from Java, he took little notice whilst under the observation of the persons of the ship. Once, indeed, he openly attempted to throw a small cage, containing three of them, overboard; because, probably, he had seen them receive food, of which he could obtain no part. But although he held so little intercourse with them when under our inspection, I had reason to suspect that he was less indifferent to their society when free from our observation; and was one day summoned to the top-gallant-yard of the mizzen-mast, to overlook him playing with a young male monkey. Lying on his back, partially covered with a sail, he for some time contemplated, with great gravity, the gambols of the monkey, which bounded over him; but at length caught him by the tail, and tried to envelop him in his covering. The monkey seemed to dislike his confinement, and broke from him, but again renewed its gambols, and although frequently caught, always escaped. The intercourse, however, did not seem to be that of equals, for the orang-outang never condescended to romp with the monkey, as he did with the boys of the ship. Yet the monkeys had evidently a great predilection for his company; for whenever they broke loose, they took their way to his resting-place, and were often seen lurking about it, or creeping clandestinely towards him. There appeared to be no gradation in their intimacy, as they appeared as confidently familiar with him when first observed, as at the close of their acquaintance.

"This animal neither practises the grimaces and antics of other monkeys, nor possesses their perpetual proneness to mischief. Gravity, approaching to melancholy, and mildness, were sometimes strongly expressed in his countenance, and seemed to be the characteristics of his disposition. When he first came among strangers, he would sit for hours with his hand upon his head, looking pensively at all around him; and when much incommoded by their examination, would hide himself beneath any covering that was at hand. His mildness was evinced by his forbearance under injuries, which were grievous before he was excited to revenge; but he always avoided those who often teased him. He soon became strongly attached to those who kindly used him. By their side he was fond of sitting; and getting as close as possible to their persons, would take their hands between his lips, and fly to them for protection. From the boatswain of the Alceste, who shared his meals with him, and was his chief favorite, although he sometimes purloined the grog and the biscuit of his benefactor, he learned to eat with a spoon; and might be often seen sitting at his cabin door, enjoying his coffee, quite unembarrassed by those who observed him, and with a grotesque and sober air, that seemed a burlesque on human nature.

"On board ship he commonly slept at the masthead, after wrapping himself in a sail. In making his bed, he used the greatest pains to remove every thing out of his way that might render the surface on which he intended to lie uneven; and, having satisfied himself with this part of his arrangement, spread out the sail, and, lying down upon it on his back, drew it over his body. Sometimes I preoccupied his bed, and teased him by refusing to give it up. On these occasions he would endeavor to pull the sail from under me, or to force me from it, and would not rest till I had resigned it. If it were large enough for both, he would quietly lie by my side.

"His food in Java was chiefly fruit, especially mangostans, of which he was extremely fond. He also sucked eggs with voracity, and often employed himself in seeking them. On board ship his diet was of no definite kind. He ate readily of all kinds of meat, and especially raw meat; was very fond of bread, but always preferred fruits, when he could obtain them.

"His beverage in Java was water; on board ship, it was as diversified as his food. He preferred coffee and tea, but would readily take wine, and exemplified his attachment to spirits by stealing the captain's brandy bottle. Since his arrival in London, he has preferred beer and milk to any thing else, but drinks wine and other liquors.

"I have seen him exhibit violent alarm on three occasions only, when he appeared to seek for safety in gaining as high an elevation as possible. On seeing eight large turtles brought on board, whilst the Cæsar was off the Island of Ascension, he climbed with all possible speed to a higher part of the ship than he had ever before reached, and, looking down upon them, projected his long lips into the form of a hog's snout, uttering, at the same time, a sound which might be described as between the croaking of a frog and the grunting of a pig. After some time, he ventured to descend, but with great caution, peeping continually at the turtles, but could not be induced to approach within many yards of them. He ran to the same height, and uttered the same sounds, on seeing some men bathing and splashing in the sea; and since his arrival in England, has shown nearly the same degree of fear at the sight of a live tortoise."

This animal survived his transportation to England from August, 1817, when he arrived, to the 1st April, 1819; during which interval he was in the custody of Mr. Cross, at Exeter 'Change, as much caressed for the gentleness of his disposition as he was noticed for his great rarity. There was no need of personal confinement, and little of restraint or coercion; to his keepers, especially, and to those whom he knew by their frequent visits, he displayed a decided partiality. During his last illness, and at his death, his piteous appearance, which seemed to bespeak his entreaties to those about him for relief, did not fail to excite the feelings of all who witnessed them—an excitement evidently heightened by the recollection of human suffering under similar circumstances, which the sight of this animal so strongly brought to mind.

The Chimpansé;—a native of Guinea and Congo, in Africa. Its frame is more analogous to that of man than to that of any other tribe, and it is the only one that can walk erect with ease. It lives in troops, uses stones and clubs as weapons, and was mistaken for a species of wild man, by early voyagers along the African coast.

The Chimpansé on Board a Vessel.—M. De Grandpré, speaking of the Chimpansé, says that "his sagacity is extraordinary; he generally walks upon two legs, supporting himself with a stick. The negro fears him, and not without reason, as he sometimes treats him very roughly. He saw, on board a vessel, a female chimpansé, which exhibited wonderful proofs of intelligence. Among other arts, she had learnt to heat the oven; she took great care not to let any of the coals fall out, which might have done mischief in the ship; and she was very accurate in observing when the oven was heated to the proper degree, of which she immediately apprized the baker, who, relying with perfect confidence upon her information, carried his dough to the oven as soon as the chimpansé came to fetch him. This animal performed all the business of a sailor, spliced ropes, handled the sails, and assisted at unfurling them; and she was, in fact, considered by the sailors as one of themselves.

"The vessel was bound for America; but the poor animal did not live to see that country, having fallen a victim to the brutality of the first mate, who inflicted very cruel chastisement upon her, which she had not deserved. She endured it with the greatest patience, only holding out her hands in a suppliant attitude, in order to break the force of the blows she received. But from that moment she steadily refused to take any food, and died on the fifth day from grief and hunger. She was lamented by every person on board, not insensible to the feelings of humanity, who knew the circumstances of her fate."

The Gibbon;—a native of Sumatra, Borneo, and Malacca. The arms are of immense length, and the hands and feet are formed for clinging to the limbs of trees, where it throws itself from branch to branch with surprising agility. The expression of the face is gentle, and rather melancholy. There are many species, all of which utter loud cries.

The nimble Gibbon, at the Zoological Gardens in London.—"This specimen," says the editor of the Penny Magazine, "was a female, and had been four years in captivity at Macao, previous to her arrival in this country. On entering the apartment in which she was to be kept, where a large space, and a tree full of branches, were allotted for her accommodation, she sprang upon the tree, and, using her hands in alternate succession, she launched herself from bough to bough with admirable grace and address, sometimes to the distance of twelve or eighteen feet. Her flight might be termed aërial, for she seemed scarcely to touch the branches in her progress. It was curious to witness how abruptly she would stop in her most rapid flight. Suddenly as thought, she would raise her body, and sit quietly gazing at the astonished spectators of her gymnastics.

"She possessed great quickness of eye; and apples, and other fruit, were often thrown at her with great rapidity, but she always caught them without an effort. On one occasion, a live bird was set at liberty in her apartment. She marked its flight, made a spring to a distant branch, caught the bird with one hand, on her passage, and attained the branch with her other hand. She instantly bit off the head of the bird, picked off its feathers, and threw it down, without attempting to eat it.

"While exerting herself in feats of agility, the gibbon ever and anon uttered her call-notes, consisting of the syllables oo-ah, oo-ah, in a succession of ascending and descending semitones, during the execution of which, the lips and frame vibrated. The tones were not unmusical, but deafening, from their loudness.

"In disposition, this creature was timid, being apparently afraid of men, but allowing women to come near her, and stroke her fur, and pat her hands and feet. Her eye was quick, and she seemed to be perpetually on the watch, scrutinizing every person who entered the room. After exercising in the morning from three to four hours, she would, if allowed, spend the rest of the day quietly on one of the branches."

This is a large and ferocious species of ape, common in the south of Africa, and Asia.

Le Vaillant's Baboon.—This celebrated traveller, while in Africa, had a dog-faced baboon, whom he called Kees. He accompanied his master in his wanderings, and of his way of life we have the following sketches: "I made him," says Le Vaillant, "my taster. Whenever we found fruits, or roots, with which my Hottentots were unacquainted, we did not touch them till Kees had tasted them. If he threw them away, we concluded that they were either of a disagreeable flavor, or of a pernicious quality, and left them untasted. The ape possesses a peculiar property, wherein he differs greatly from other animals, and resembles man—namely, that he is by nature equally gluttonous and inquisitive. Without necessity, and without appetite, he tastes every thing that falls in his way, or that is given to him.

"But Kees had a still more valuable quality: he was an excellent sentinel; for, whether by day or night, he immediately sprang up on the slightest appearance of danger. By his cry, and the symptoms of fear which he exhibited, we were always apprized of the approach of an enemy, even though the dogs perceived nothing of it. The latter at length learned to rely upon him with such confidence, that they slept on in perfect tranquillity. I often took Kees with me when I went a-hunting; and when he saw me preparing for sport, he exhibited the most lively demonstrations of joy. On the way, he would climb into the trees, to look for gum, of which he was very fond. Sometimes he discovered to me honey, deposited in the clefts of rocks, or hollow trees. But if he happened to have met with neither honey nor gum, and his appetite had become sharp by his running about, I always witnessed a very ludicrous scene. In those cases, he looked for roots, which he ate with great greediness, especially a particular kind, which, to his cost, I also found to be very well tasted and refreshing, and therefore insisted upon sharing with him. But Kees was no fool. As soon as he found such a root, and I was not near enough to seize upon my share of it, he devoured it in the greatest haste, keeping his eyes all the while riveted on me. He accurately measured the distance I had to pass before I could get to him, and I was sure of coming too late. Sometimes, however, when he had made a mistake in his calculation, and I came upon him sooner than he expected, he endeavored to hide the root—in which case, I compelled him, by a box on the ear, to give me up my share.

"When Kees happened to tire on the road, he mounted upon the back of one of my dogs, who was so obliging as to carry him whole hours. One of them, that was larger and stronger than the rest, hit upon a very ingenious artifice, to avoid being pressed into this piece of service. As soon as Kees leaped upon his back, he stood still, and let the train pass, without moving from the spot. Kees still persisted in his intention, till we were almost out of his sight, when he found himself at length compelled to dismount, upon which both the baboon and dog exerted all their speed to overtake us. The latter, however, gave him the start, and kept a good look-out after him, that he might not serve him in the same manner again. In fact, Kees enjoyed a certain authority with all my dogs, for which he perhaps was indebted to the superiority of his instinct. He could not endure a competitor if any of the dogs came too near him when he was eating, he gave him a box on the ear, which compelled him immediately to retire to a respectful distance.

"Like most other domestic animals, Kees was addicted to stealing. He understood admirably well how to loose the strings of a basket, in order to take victuals out of it, especially milk, of which he was very fond. My people chastised him for these thefts; but that did not make him amend his conduct. I myself sometimes whipped him; but then he ran away, and did not return again to the tent until it grew dark. Once, as I was about to dine, and had put the beans, which I had boiled for myself, upon a plate, I heard the voice of a bird with which I was not acquainted. I left my dinner standing, seized my gun, and ran out of the tent. After the space of about a quarter of an hour, I returned, with the bird in my hand; but, to my astonishment, found not a single bean upon the plate. Kees had stolen them all, and taken himself out of the way.

"When he had committed any trespass of this kind, he used always, about the time when I drank tea, to return quietly, and seat himself in his usual place, with every appearance of innocence, as if nothing had happened; but this evening he did not let himself be seen. And on the following day also he was not seen by any of us; and, in consequence, I began to grow seriously uneasy about him, and apprehensive that he might be lost forever. But, on the third day, one of my people, who had been to fetch water, informed me that he had seen Kees in the neighborhood; but that, as soon as the animal espied him, he had concealed himself again. I immediately went out and beat the whole neighborhood with my dogs. All at once, I heard a cry like that which Kees used to make when I returned from my shooting, and had not taken him with me. I looked about, and at length espied him, endeavoring to hide himself behind the large branches of a tree. I now called to him in a friendly tone of voice, and made motions to him to come down to me. But he could not trust me, and I was obliged to climb up the tree to fetch him. He did not attempt to fly, and we returned together to my quarters: here he expected to receive his punishment; but I did nothing, as it would have been of no use.

"When any eatables had been pilfered at my quarters, the fault was always laid first upon Kees; and rarely was the accusation unfounded. For a time, the eggs, which a hen laid me, were constantly stolen away, and I wished to ascertain whether I had to attribute this loss also to him. For this purpose I went one morning to watch him, and waited till the hen announced, by her cackling, that she had laid an egg. Kees was sitting upon my vehicle; but, the moment he heard the hen's voice, he leaped down, and was running to fetch the egg. When he saw me, he suddenly stopped, and affected a careless posture, swaying himself backwards upon his hind legs, and assuming a very innocent look; in short, he employed all his art to deceive me with respect to his design. His hypocritical manœuvres only confirmed my suspicions; and, in order, in my turn, to deceive him, I pretended not to attend to him, and turned my back to the bush where the hen was cackling, upon which he immediately sprang to the place. I ran after him, and came up to him at the moment when he had broken the egg, and was swallowing it. Having caught the thief in the fact, I gave him a good beating upon the spot; but this severe chastisement did not prevent his soon stealing fresh-laid eggs again.

"As I was convinced that I should never be able to break Kees off his natural vices, and that, unless I chained him up every morning, I should never get an egg, I endeavored to accomplish my purpose in another manner: I trained one of my dogs, as soon as the hen cackled, to run to the nest, and bring me the egg, without breaking it. In a few days, the dog had learned his lesson; but Kees, as soon as he heard the hen cackle, ran with him to the nest. A contest now took place between them, who should have the egg: often the dog was foiled, although he was the stronger of the two. If he gained the victory, he ran joyfully to me with the egg, and put it into my hand. Kees, nevertheless, followed him, and did not cease to grumble and make threatening grimaces at him, till he saw me take the egg,—as if he was comforted for the loss of his booty by his adversary's not retaining it for himself. If Kees got hold of the egg, he endeavored to run with it to a tree, where, having devoured it, he threw down the shells upon his adversary, as if to make game of him. In that case, the dog returned, looking ashamed, from which I could conjecture the unlucky adventure he had met with.

"Kees was always the first awake in the morning, and, when it was the proper time, he aroused the dogs, who were accustomed to his voice, and, in general, obeyed, without hesitation, the slightest motions by which he communicated his orders to them, immediately taking their posts about the tent and carriage, as he directed them."

A droll Mimic.—A clergyman of some distinction, in England, had a tame baboon, which became so fond of him, that, wherever he went, it was always desirous of accompanying him. Whenever, therefore, he had to perform the service of his church, he was under the necessity of shutting it up in his room.

Once, however, the animal escaped, and followed his master to the church; and, silently mounting the sounding-board above the pulpit, he lay perfectly still till the sermon commenced. He then crept to the edge, and, overlooking the preacher, imitated his gestures in so grotesque a manner, that the whole congregation was unavoidably made to laugh.

The minister, surprised and confounded at this levity, severely rebuked his audience for their conduct. The reproof failed of its intended effect. The congregation still laughed, and the preacher, in the warmth of his zeal, redoubled his vociferation and action. This last the ape imitated so exactly, that the congregation could no longer restrain themselves, but burst into a long and loud roar of laughter.

A friend of the preacher at length stepped up to him, and pointed out the cause of this apparently improper conduct; and such was the arch demeanor of the animal, that it was with the utmost difficulty that the parson himself could maintain his gravity, while he ordered the sexton to take the creature away.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—Immense troops of baboons inhabit the mountains in the neighborhood of the Cape of Good Hope, whence they descend to the plains, to devastate the gardens and orchards. In their plundering excursions they are very cunning, always placing sentinels, to prevent the main body from being surprised. They break the fruit to pieces, cram it into their cheek-pouches, and keep it until hungry. Whenever the sentinel discovers a man approaching, he sets up a loud yell, which makes the whole troop retreat with the utmost precipitation. They have been known to steal behind an unwary traveller resting near their retreats, and carry off his food, which they would eat at a little distance from him; and with absurd grimaces and gestures, in ridicule, offer it back; at the same time greedily devouring it.

The following account is given by Lade: "We traversed a great mountain in the neighborhood of the Cape of Good Hope, and amused ourselves with hunting large baboons, which are very numerous in that place. I can neither describe all the arts practised by these animals, nor the nimbleness and impudence with which they returned, after being pursued by us. Sometimes they allowed us to approach so near that I was almost certain of seizing them. But, when I made the attempt, they sprang, at a single leap, ten paces from me, and mounted trees with equal agility, from whence they looked at us with great indifference, and seemed to derive pleasure from our astonishment. Some of them were so large that, if our interpreter had not assured us they were neither ferocious nor dangerous, our number would not have appeared sufficient to protect us from their attacks.

"As it could serve no purpose to kill them, we did not use our guns. But the captain levelled his piece at a very large one, that had rested on the top of a tree, after having fatigued us a long time in pursuing him; this kind of menace, of which the animal, perhaps, recollected his having sometimes seen the consequences, terrified him to such a degree, that he fell down motionless at our feet, and we had no difficulty in seizing him; but when he recovered from his stupor, it required all our dexterity and efforts to keep him. We tied his paws together; but he bit so furiously, that we were under the necessity of binding our handkerchiefs over his head."

The common baboon is very numerous in Siam, where they frequently sally forth in astonishing multitudes to attack the villages, during the time the peasants are occupied in the rice harvest, and plunder their habitations of whatever provisions they can lay their paws on. Fruits, corn, and roots, are their usual food, although they will also eat flesh. When hunted, baboons often make very formidable resistance to dogs—their great strength and long claws enabling them to make a stout defence; and it is with difficulty a single dog can overcome them, except when they are gorged with excessive eating, in which they always indulge when they can.

Some years ago, Mr. Rutter, doing duty at the castle of Cape Town, kept a tame baboon for his amusement. One evening it broke its chain unknown to him. In the night, climbing up into the belfry, it began to play with, and ring the bell. Immediately the whole place was in an uproar, some great danger being apprehended. Many thought that the castle was on fire; others, that an enemy had entered the bay; and the soldiers began actually to turn out, when it was discovered that the baboon had occasioned the disturbance. On the following morning, a court-martial was summoned, when Cape justice dictated, that, "Whereas Master Rutter's baboon had unnecessarily put the castle into alarm, the master should receive fifty lashes;" Mr. Rutter, however, found means to evade the punishment.

The following circumstance is characteristic of the imitative disposition of the baboon: The army of Alexander the Great marched, in complete battle array, into a country inhabited by great numbers of these apes, and encamped there for the night. The next morning, when the army was about to proceed on its march, the soldiers saw, at some distance, an enormous number of baboons, drawn up in rank and file, like a small army, with such regularity that the Macedonians, who could have no idea of such a manœuvre, imagined at first that it was the enemy, prepared to receive them.

The ape-catchers of Africa, it is said, take a vessel filled with water, and wash their hands and face in a situation where they are sure to be observed by the apes. After having done so, the water is poured out, and its place supplied by a solution of glue; they leave the spot, and the apes then seldom fail to come down from their trees, and wash themselves in the same manner as they have seen the men do before them. The consequence is, that they glue their eyelashes so fast together, that they cannot open their eyes, or see to escape from their enemy.

The ape is fond of spirituous liquors, and these are also used for the purpose of entrapping them. A person places, in their sight, a number of vessels filled with ardent spirits, pretends to drink, and retires. The apes, ever attentive to the proceedings of man, descend, and imitate what they have seen, become intoxicated, fall asleep, and are thus rendered an easy conquest to their cunning adversaries.

The people of India make the proneness of apes to imitation useful; for, when they wish to collect cocoa-nuts, and other fruits, they go to the woods where these grow, which are generally frequented by apes and monkeys, gather a few heaps, and withdraw. As soon as they are gone, the apes fall to work, imitate every thing they have seen done; and when they have gathered together a considerable number of heaps, the people approach, the apes fly to the trees, and the harvest is conveyed home.

Apes and monkeys, in many parts of India, are made objects of religious veneration, and magnificent temples are erected to their honor. In these countries, they propagate to an alarming extent; they enter cities in immense troops, and even venture into the houses. In some places, as in the kingdom of Calicut, the natives find it necessary to have their windows latticed, to prevent the ingress of these intruders, who lay hands without scruple upon every eatable within their reach. There are three hospitals for monkeys in Amadabad, the capital of Guzerat, where the sick and lame are fed and relieved by medical attendants.

Bindrabund, a town of Agra, in India, is in high estimation with the pious Hindoos, who resort to it from the most remote parts of the empire, on account of its being the favorite residence of the god Krishna. The town is embosomed in groves of trees, which, according to the account of Major Thorn, are the residence of innumerable apes, whose propensity to mischief is increased by the religious respect paid to them, in honor of Hunaman, a divinity of the Hindoo mythology, wherein he is characterized under the form of an ape. In consequence of this degrading superstition, such numbers of these animals are supported by the voluntary contributions of pilgrims, that no one dares to resist or molest them. Hence, access to the town is often difficult; for, should one of the apes take an antipathy against any unhappy traveller, he is sure to be assailed by the whole community, who follow him with all the missile weapons they can collect, such as pieces of bamboo, stones, and dirt, making at the same time a most hideous howling.

A striking instance of the audacity of the ape, in attacking the human species, is related by M. Mollien, in his Travels in Africa. A woman, going with millet and milk to a vessel, from St. Louis, which had been stopped before a village in the country of Golam, was attacked by a troop of apes, from three to four feet high; they first threw stones at her, on which she began to run away; they then ran after her, and, having caught her, they commenced beating her with sticks, until she let go what she was carrying. On returning to the village, she related her adventure to the principal inhabitants, who mounted their horses, and, followed by their dogs, went to the place which served as a retreat to this troop of marauders. They fired at them, killed ten, and wounded others, which were brought to them by the dogs; but several negroes were severely wounded in this encounter, either by the stones hurled at them by the apes, or by their bites; the females, especially, were most furious in revenging the death of their young ones, which they carried in their arms.

D'Obsonville, speaking of the sacred haunts of apes in different parts of India, says that, in the course of his travels through that country, he occasionally went into the ancient temples, in order to rest himself. He noticed always that several of the apes, which abounded there, first observed him attentively, then looked inquisitively at the food which he was about to take, betraying, by their features and gestures, the great desire which they felt to partake of it with him. In order to amuse himself upon such occasions, he was generally provided with a quantity of dried peas; of these he first scattered some on the side where the leader stood,—for, according to his account, the apes always obey some particular one as their leader,—upon which the animal gradually approached nearer, and gathered them eagerly up. He then held out a handful to the animal; and, as they seldom meet a person who harbors any hostile intentions against them, the creature ventured slowly to approach, cautiously watching, as it seemed, lest any trick might be played upon him. At length, becoming bolder, he laid hold, with one of his paws, of the thumb of the hand in which the peas were held out to him, while, with the other, he carried them to his mouth, keeping his eyes all the while fixed upon those of M. d'Obsonville.

"If I happened to laugh," he observes, "or to move myself, the ape immediately gave over eating, worked his lips, and made a kind of growling noise, the meaning of which was rendered very intelligible to me by his long, canine teeth, which he occasionally exhibited. If I threw some of the peas to a distance from him, he sometimes seemed pleased to see other apes pick them up; though, at other times, he grumbled at it, and attacked those who approached too near to me. The noise which he made, and the apprehensions he showed, though they might, perhaps, proceed in some measure from his own greediness, evidently proved, however, that he feared I might take advantage of their weakness, and so make them prisoners. I also observed, that those whom he suffered to approach the nearest to me were always the largest and strongest of the males; the young and the females he obliged to keep at a considerable distance from me."

Of this numerous and frolicsome family, there is a great variety in the hot regions of both continents. In some portions of South America, they enliven the landscape by their gambols, and make the forests resound with their cries. They are the smallest and most lively of the four-handed family, and in all caravans, they are the favorites of young observers.

The Fair Monkey.—This is one of the most beautiful of the tribe. Its head is small and round: its face and hands are of scarlet, so defined and vivid that it has more the appearance of art than nature. Its body and limbs are covered with long hairs of the purest white, and of a shining and silvery brightness: the tail is of a deep chestnut color, very glistening, and considerably longer than the body. This animal is somewhat larger than the striated monkey. It is an inhabitant of South America, and is frequently to be met with on the banks of the Amazon.

The following circumstance, exhibiting the fickleness of the fair monkey, was communicated to Mr. Bewick by Sir John Trevelyan. "Pug was a gentleman of excellent humor, and adored by the crew; and, to make him perfectly happy, as they imagined, they procured him a wife. For some weeks he was a devoted husband, and showed her every attention and respect. He then grew cool, and became jealous of any kind of civility shown her by the master of the vessel, and began to use her with much cruelty. His treatment made her wretched and dull; though she bore the spleen of her husband with that fortitude which is characteristic of the female sex of the human species. Pug, however, like the lords of creation, was up to deceit, and practised pretended kindness to his spouse, to effect a diabolical scheme, which he seemed to premeditate. One morning, when the sea ran very high, he seduced her aloft, and drew her observation to an object at some distance from the yard-arm; her attention being fixed, he all of a sudden applied his paw to her rear, and canted her into the sea, where she fell a victim to his cruelty. This seemed to afford him high gratification, for he descended in great spirits."

A Trick.—In 1818, a vessel that sailed between Whitehaven, in England, and Jamaica, embarked on her homeward voyage, and, among other passengers, carried Mrs. B., and an infant five weeks old. One beautiful afternoon, the captain perceived a distant sail; and, after he had gratified his curiosity, he politely offered the glass to the lady, that she might obtain a clear view of the object. She had the baby in her arms, but now she wrapped her shawl about it, and placed it on a sofa, upon which she had been sitting.

Scarcely had she applied her eye to the glass, when the helmsman exclaimed, "See what the mischievous monkey has done!" The reader may judge of the mother's feelings, when, on turning round, she beheld the animal in the act of transporting her child apparently up to the top of the mast. The monkey was a very large one, and so strong and active, that, while it grasped the infant firmly with one arm, it climbed the shrouds nimbly by the other, totally unembarrassed by the weight of its burden.

One look was enough for the terrified mother; and had it not been for the assistance of those around her, she would have fallen prostrate on the deck, where she was soon afterwards stretched, apparently a lifeless corpse. The sailors could climb as well as the monkey, but the latter watched their motions narrowly; and, as it ascended higher up the mast the moment they attempted to put a foot on the shroud, the captain became afraid that it would drop the child, and endeavor to escape by leaping from one mast to another.

In the mean time, the little innocent was heard to cry; and though many thought it was suffering pain, their fears on this point were speedily dissipated, when they observed the monkey imitating exactly the motions of a nurse, by dandling, soothing, and caressing, its charge, and even endeavoring to hush it to sleep.

From the deck, the lady was conveyed to the cabin, and gradually restored to her senses. In the mean time, the captain ordered the men to conceal themselves carefully below, and quietly took his own station on the cabin stairs, where he could see all that passed, without being seen. The plan happily succeeded. The monkey, on perceiving that the coast was clear, cautiously descended from his lofty perch, and replaced the infant on the sofa, cold, fretful, and perhaps frightened, but, in every other respect, as free from harm as when he took it up. The captain had now a most grateful office to perform; the babe was restored to its mother's arms, amidst tears, and thanks, and blessings.

A Tragedy in the Woods.—An Englishman travelling in India tells the following interesting, though painful, story:—

"I was strolling through a wood, with my gun on my shoulders, my thoughts all centred in Europe, when I heard a curious noise in a tree above me. I looked up, and found that the sounds proceeded from a white monkey, who skipped from branch to branch, chattering with delight at beholding a 'fellow-creature,' for so he decidedly seemed to consider me. For a few moments I took no notice of his antics, and walked quietly along, till suddenly a large branch fell at my feet, narrowly escaping my head. I again paused, and found that the missile had been dropped by my talkative friend. Without consideration, I instantly turned round and fired at him.

"The report had scarcely sounded, when I heard the most piercing, the most distressing cry, that ever reached my ears. An agonized shriek, like that of a young infant, burst from the little creature that I had wounded. It was within thirty paces of me. I could see the wretched animal, already stained with blood, point to its wound, and again hear its dreadful moan.

"The agony of a hare is harrowing, and I have seen a young sportsman turn pale on hearing it. The present cry was, however, more distressing. I turned round, and endeavored to hurry away. This, however, I found no easy task; for, as I moved forward, the unhappy creature followed me, springing as well as he could from bough to bough, uttering a low, wailing moan, and pointing at the same time to the spot whence the blood trickled. Then, regarding me steadily and mournfully in the face, it seemed to reproach me with my wanton cruelty. Again I hastened on, but still it pursued me. Never, in my life, did I feel so much for a dumb animal: never did I so keenly repent an act of uncalled-for barbarity.

"Determined not to allow the poor monkey thus to linger in torture, and at once to end the annoying scene, I suddenly came to a halt; and, lowering my gun, which was only single-barrelled, I was about to reload it for the purpose of despatching the maimed creature, when, springing from a tree, it ran up to within a dozen paces of me, and began to cry so piteously, and roll itself in agony, occasionally picking up earth, with which it attempted to stanch the blood by stuffing it into the wound, that, in spite of my resolution, when I fired, I was so nervous, I almost missed my aim, inflicting another wound, which broke the animal's leg, but nothing more. Again, its piercing shriek rang in my ears. Horrified beyond endurance, I threw down my gun, and actually fled.

"In about half an hour, I returned, for the purpose of getting my gun, fully expecting that the poor animal had left the spot. What, then, was my surprise, to find a crowd of monkeys surrounding the wretched sufferer, and busily employed in tearing open its wounds! A shout drove them all away, except the dying animal. I advanced. The little creature was rolling in agony. I took up my gun, which lay beside him, and fancied he cast one look of supplication on me—one prayer to be relieved from his misery. I did not hesitate; with one blow of the butt-end, I dashed out his brains. Then turning round, I slowly returned to my quarters, more profoundly dispirited than I had felt for many months.—Take my advice, reader; if you must live in India, never shoot a monkey."

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—We are told of a king of Egypt who was so successful in training monkeys to the art of dancing, that they were long admired for the dexterity and gracefulness of their movements. On one occasion, his majesty had a ball, at which a vast number of these animals "tripped it on the light, fantastic toe." A citizen, who enjoyed fun, threw a few handfuls of walnuts into the ball-room, while these picturesque animals were engaged in a high dance, upon which they forgot all decorum, and sprang to the booty.

A monkey, which was kept on board a British frigate, was the favorite of all on board but the midshipmen. This animal knew well of a large store of apples being in a locker in the wardroom, which was kept constantly secure, in consequence of his propensity for plundering it. He, however, fell upon ways and means to secure his booty. He procured a piece of wadding, swung himself from the stern gallery by one hand, and, with this in the other, broke a pane of glass in the wardroom window; and, after carefully picking out all the broken pieces of glass, made his entrance, where he gorged himself so fully, that he was unable to effect his retreat by the place where he entered. He was caught in the fact, and soundly flogged.

A singular piece of ingenuity was once practised by a monkey, in defending himself against fire-arms. This animal belonged to Captain M——, of the navy, who had also another small monkey, of which he was very fond, from its lively playfulness. The larger animal was often exceedingly troublesome, and could not be driven from his cabin, without blazing at him with a pistol loaded with powder and currant jelly,—a discharge which produced a painful and alarming effect. The old monkey was at first astounded at the sight of the weapon, which stung him so sore, that he at last learned a mode of defence; for, snatching up the little favorite, he used to interpose him as a shield between the pistol and his body.

In one of his excursions, Le Vaillant killed a female monkey, which carried a young one on her back. The latter continued to cling to her dead parent till they reached their evening quarters; and the assistance of a negro was even then required to disengage it. No sooner, however, did it feel itself alone, than it darted towards a wooden block, on which was placed the wig of Le Vaillant's father. To this it clung most pertinaciously by its fore paws; and such was the force of this deceptive instinct, that it remained in the same position for about three weeks, all this time evidently mistaking the wig for its mother. It was fed, from time to time, with goat's milk; and, at length, emancipated itself voluntarily, by quitting the fostering care of the peruke. The confidence which it ere long assumed, and the amusing familiarity of its manners, soon rendered it a favorite with the family. The unsuspecting naturalist had, however, introduced a wolf in sheep's clothing into his dwelling; for, one morning, on entering his chamber, the door of which had been imprudently left open, he beheld his young favorite making a hearty breakfast on a collection of insects which he had made. In the first transports of his anger, he resolved to strangle the monkey in his arms; but his rage immediately gave way to pity, when he perceived that the crime of its voracity had carried the punishment along with it. In eating the beetles, it had swallowed several of the pins on which they were transfixed. Its agony, consequently, became great, and all his efforts were unable to preserve its life.

This order includes bats, hedgehogs, bears, dogs, wolves, foxes, lions, weasels, &c.

These creatures, partaking both of the nature of quadrupeds and birds, have excited the wonder of mankind in all ages. There is a great variety of species, from the common bat of our climate to the vampyre of South America, whose wings stretch to the extent of two feet. These animals live in caves and crevices during the day, and sally forth at evening to catch their prey. For this reason, there is a popular disgust of the whole tribe; yet the species in our climate are a harmless race. We cannot say as much of the larger kinds, which sometimes darken the air, by their abundance, in hot climates. One species, already mentioned, is a formidable animal.

Captain Stedman, in his "Narrative of a Five Years' Expedition against the revolted Negroes of Surinam," relates that, on awaking about four o'clock one morning in his hammock, he was extremely alarmed at finding himself weltering in congealed blood, and without feeling any pain whatever. "The mystery was," says Captain Stedman, "that I had been bitten by the vampyre, or spectre of Guiana, which is also called the flying dog of New Spain; and by the Spaniards, perrovolador. This is no other than a bat of monstrous size, that sucks the blood from men and cattle, while they are fast asleep, even, sometimes, till they die; and, as the manner in which they proceed is truly wonderful, I shall endeavor to give a distinct account of it.

"Knowing, by instinct, that the person they intend to attack is in a sound slumber, they generally alight near the feet, where, while the creature continues fanning with his enormous wings, which keeps one cool, he bites a piece out of the tip of the great toe, so very small, indeed, that the head of a pin could scarcely be received into the wound, which is, consequently, not painful; yet, through this orifice, he continues to suck the blood, until he is obliged to disgorge. He then begins again, and thus continues sucking and disgorging until he is scarcely able to fly, and the sufferer has often been known to pass from time to eternity. Cattle they generally bite in the ear, but always in places where the blood flows spontaneously. Having applied tobacco ashes as the best remedy, and washed the gore from myself and hammock, I observed several small heaps of congealed blood, all round the place where I had lain, upon the ground; on examining which, the surgeon judged that I had lost at least twelve or fourteen ounces of blood."

"Some years ago," says Mr. Waterton, in his "Wanderings in South America," "I went to the River Paumaron, with a Scotch gentleman, by name Tarbet. We hung our hammocks in the thatched loft of a planter's house. Next morning, I heard this gentleman muttering in his hammock, and now and then letting fall an imprecation or two, just about the time he ought to have been saying his morning prayers. 'What is the matter, sir?' said I, softly; 'is any thing amiss?' 'What's the matter?' answered he, surlily; 'why, the vampyres have been sucking me to death.' As soon as there was light enough, I went to his hammock, and saw it much stained with blood. 'There,' said he, thrusting his foot out of the hammock, 'see how these infernal imps have been drawing my life's blood.' On examining his foot, I found the vampyre had tapped his great toe. There was a wound somewhat less than that made by a leech. The blood was still oozing from it. I conjectured he might have lost from ten to twelve ounces of blood. Whilst examining it, I think I put him into a worse humor, by remarking that a European surgeon would not have been so generous as to have blooded him without making a charge. He looked up in my face, but did not say a word. I saw he was of opinion that I had better have spared this piece of ill-timed levity."

This animal belongs exclusively to the eastern continent, and is well known from the thick and sharp prickles with which its back and sides are covered, and the contractile power by which it can draw its head and belly within the prickly covering of its back, so as to give it the appearance of a ball. It is found near hedges and thickets, from the fruits and herbage of which it obtains its food. It also feeds upon small animals, such as snails and beetles.

The sagacity of the hedgehog is celebrated in antiquity. We are informed by Plutarch, that a citizen of Cyzicus thus acquired the reputation of a good meteorologist: A hedgehog generally has its burrow open in various points; and, when its instinct warns it of an approaching change of the wind, it stops up the aperture towards that quarter. The citizen alluded to, becoming aware of this practice, was able to predict to what point the wind would next shift.

Though of a very timid disposition, the hedgehog has been sometimes tamed. In the year 1790, there was one in the possession of a Mr. Sample, in Northumberland, which performed the duty of a turnspit as well, in all respects, as the dog of that denomination. It ran about the house with the same familiarity as any other domestic animal.

In the London Sporting Magazine for 1821, there is an account of one, which, after having been tamed in a garden, found its way to the scullery, and there made regular search for the relics of the dinner plates; having its retreat in the adjoining cellar. It was fed after the manner itself had selected. Milk was given in addition to the meat; but it lost its relish for vegetables, and constantly rejected them. It soon became as well domesticated as the cat, and lived on a footing of intimacy with it.

Of this animal there are several species; they burrow in the earth, and form avenues from one nest to another, like the crossing streets of a city. Their eyes are small, and so buried in fur as to be invisible, except on close inspection.

Mole-Catching.—It has been a common opinion that moles were destructive to the crops; and in Europe, much pains have been taken to destroy them. The mole-catcher—in general a quiet old man, who passes his winter in making his traps, in the chimney-corner—comes forth, in the spring, with his implements of destruction. His practised eye soon discovers the tracks of the mole, from the mound which he throws up to some neighboring bank, or from one mound to another. It is in this track, or run, that he sets his trap, a few inches below the surface of the ground. As the mole passes through this little engine of his ruin, he disturbs a peg which holds down a strong hazel rod in a bent position. The moment the peg is moved, the end of the rod which is held down flies up, and with it comes up the poor mole, dragged out of the earth which he has so ingeniously excavated, to be gibbeted, without a chance of escape.

There was a Frenchman, of the name of Le Court, who died a few years since,—a man of great knowledge and perseverance, and who did not think it beneath him to devote his whole attention to the observation of the mole. He established a school for mole-catching; and taught many what he had acquired by incessant perseverance—the art of tracing the mole to his hiding-place in the ground, and cutting off his retreat. The skill of this man once saved, as was supposed, a large and fertile district of France from inundation by a canal, whose banks the moles had undermined in every direction.

More recently, it has been doubted whether moles are really so mischievous to the farmer as has been supposed. It is said that they assist in draining the land, and thus prevent the foot-rot in sheep. Mr. Hogg, the Ettrick shepherd, says, "If a hundred men and horses were employed on a common-sized pasture-farm—say from 1500 to 2000 acres—in raising and draining manure for a top-dressing to the land, they would not do it so effectually, so equally, and so neatly, as the natural number of moles on the farm would do for themselves."

Moles are said to be very ferocious animals; and, as an evidence of this, we are told that a mole, a toad, and a viper, were enclosed in a glass case; the mole despatched the other two, and devoured a great part of both of them.

Of this animal there are many species; among which, the white bear of the polar regions, and the grisly bear of the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, are the largest and most formidable. The brown bear is common to both continents. The most remarkable of the other species are the Bornean, spectacled, large-lipped, Thibetian, and Malayan.

The Brown or Black Bear.—Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—This species, like the rest of the family, is a solitary animal; for he only remains associated with his mate for a short period, and then retires to his winter retreat, which is usually in the hole of a rock, the cavity of a tree, or a pit in the earth, which the animal frequently digs for himself. He sometimes constructs a kind of hut, composed of the branches of trees, which he lines with moss. In these situations he continues, for the most part, in a lethargic state, taking no food, but subsisting entirely on the absorption of the fat which he has accumulated in the course of the summer.

The modes that are adopted, by the inhabitants of different countries, for taking or destroying bears, are various. Of these, the following appear to be the most remarkable: In consequence of the well-known partiality of these animals for honey, the Russians sometimes fix to those trees where bees are hived a heavy log of wood, at the end of a long string. When the unwieldy creature climbs up, to get at the hive, he finds himself interrupted by the log; he pushes it aside, and attempts to pass it; but, in returning, it hits him such a blow, that, in a rage, he flings it from him with greater force, which makes it return with increased violence; and he sometimes continues this, till he is either killed, or falls from the tree.

In Lapland, hunting the bear is often undertaken by a single man, who, having discovered the retreat of the animal, takes his dog along with him, and advances towards the spot. The jaws are tied round with a cord, to prevent his barking; and the man holds the other end of this cord in his hand. As soon as the dog smells the bear, he begins to show signs of uneasiness, and, by dragging at the cord, informs his master that the object of his pursuit is at no great distance.

When the Laplander, by this means, discovers on which side the bear is stationed, he advances in such a direction that the wind may blow from the bear to him, and not the contrary; for otherwise, the animal would, by his scent, be aware of his approach, though not able to see the enemy, being blinded by sunshine. The olfactory organs of the bear are exquisite. When the hunter has advanced to within gunshot of the bear, he fires upon him; and this is very easily accomplished in autumn, as he is then more fearless, and is constantly prowling about for berries of different kinds, on which he feeds at this season of the year. Should the man chance to miss his aim, the furious beast will directly turn upon him in a rage, and the little Laplander is obliged to take to his heels with all possible speed, leaving his knapsack behind him on the spot. The bear, coming up to this, seizes upon it, biting and tearing it into a thousand pieces. While he is thus venting his fury, the Laplander, who is generally a good marksman, reloads his gun, and usually destroys him at the second shot; if not, the bear in most cases runs away.

Bear-baiting was a favorite amusement of our English ancestors. Sir Thomas Pope entertained Queen Mary and the Princess Elizabeth, at Hatfield, with a grand exhibition of a "bear-baiting, with which their highnesses were right well content." Bear-baiting was part of the amusement of Elizabeth, among "the princely pleasures of Kenilworth Castle." Rowland White, speaking of the queen, then in her sixty-seventh year, says,—"Her majesty is very well. This day she appoints a Frenchman to do feats upon a rope, in the Conduit Court. To-morrow she has commanded the bears, the bull, and the ape, to be bayted, in the tilt-yard. Upon Wednesday, she will have solemn dauncing." The office of chief master of the bear was held under the crown, with a salary of 16d. per diem. Whenever the king chose to entertain himself or his visitors with this sport, it was the duty of the master to provide bears and dogs, and to superintend the baiting; and he was invested with unlimited authority to issue commissions, and to send his officers into every county in England, who were empowered to seize and take away any bears, bulls, or dogs, that they thought meet, for his majesty's service. The latest record, by which this diversion was publicly authorized, is a grant to Sir Saunders Duncombe, October 11, 1561, "for the sole practice and profit of the fighting and combating of wild and domestic beasts, within the realm of England, for the space of fourteen years." Occasional exhibitions of this kind were continued till about the middle of the eighteenth century.

We are told, in Johnston's Sketches of India, that "bears will often continue on the road, in front of a palanquin, for a mile or two, tumbling, and playing all sorts of antics, as if they were taught to do so. I believe it is their natural disposition; for they certainly are the most amusing creatures imaginable, in a wild state. It is no wonder they are led about with monkeys, to amuse mankind. It is astonishing, as well as ludicrous, to see them climb rocks, and tumble, or rather roll, down precipices. If they are attacked by a person on horseback, they stand erect on their hind legs, showing a fine set of white teeth, and make a crackling kind of noise. If the horse comes near them, they try to catch him by the legs; and, if they miss him, they tumble over and over several times. They are easily speared by a person mounted on horseback, that is bold enough to go near them."

Bears ascend trees with great facility. Of their fondness for climbing, we have the following curious instance: In the end of June, 1825, a tame bear took a notion of climbing up the scaffolding placed round a brick stalk, erecting by Mr. G. Johnstone, at St. Rollox. He began to ascend very steadily, cautiously examining, as he went along, the various joists, to see if they were secure. He at length, to the infinite amusement and astonishment of the workmen, reached the summit of the scaffolding, one hundred and twenty feet high. Bruin had no sooner attained the object of his wishes, than his physiognomy exhibited great self-gratulation; and he looked about him with much complacency, and inspected the building operations going on. The workmen were much amused with their novel visitor, and every mark of civility and attention was shown him; which he very condescendingly returned, by good-humoredly presenting them with a shake of his paw. A lime bucket was now hoisted, in order to lower him down; and the workmen, with all due courtesy, were going to assist him into it; but he declined their attentions, and preferred returning in the manner he had gone up. He afterwards repeated his adventurous visit.

"Bears," says Mr. Lloyd, "are not unfrequently domesticated in Wermeland. I heard of one that was so tame, that his master, a peasant, used occasionally to cause him to stand at the back of his sledge when on a journey; but the fellow kept so good a balance, that it was next to impossible to upset him. When the vehicle went on one side, bruin threw his weight the other way, and vice versa. One day, however, the peasant amused himself by driving over the very worst ground he could find, with the intention, if possible, of throwing the bear off his equilibrium, by which, at last, the animal got so irritated, that he fetched his master, who was in advance of him, a tremendous thwack on the shoulders with his paw. This frightened the man so much, that he caused the beast to be killed immediately."

Of the ferocity of the bear there are many instances on record. A brown bear, which was presented to his late majesty, George III., while Prince of Wales, was kept in the Tower. By the carelessness of the servant, the door of the den was left open; and the keeper's wife happening to go across the court at the same time, the animal flew out, seized the woman, threw her down, and fastened upon her neck, which he bit; and without offering any further violence, lay upon her, sucking the blood out of the wound. Resistance was in vain, as it only served to irritate the brute; and she must inevitably have perished, had not her husband luckily discovered her situation. By a sudden blow, he obliged the bear to quit his hold, and retire to his den, which he did with great reluctance, and not without making a second attempt to come at the woman, who was almost dead, through fear and loss of blood. It is somewhat remarkable, that, whenever he happened to see her afterwards, he growled, and made most violent struggles to get at her. The prince, upon hearing of the circumstance, ordered the bear to be killed.

But the bear is also capable of generous attachment. Leopold, Duke of Lorraine, had a bear called Marco, of the sagacity and sensibility of which we have the following remarkable instance: During the winter of 1709, a Savoyard boy, ready to perish with cold in a barn, in which he had been put by a good woman, with some more of his companions, thought proper to enter Marco's hut, without reflecting on the danger which he ran in exposing himself to the mercy of the animal which occupied it. Marco, however, instead of doing any injury to the child, took him between his paws, and warmed him by pressing him to his breast, until next morning, when he suffered him to depart, to ramble about the city. The young Savoyard returned in the evening to the hut, and was received with the same affection. For several days he had no other retreat; and it added not a little to his joy, to perceive that the bear regularly reserved part of his food for him. A number of days passed in this manner without the servants' knowing any thing of the circumstance. At length, when one of them came to bring the bear its supper, rather later than ordinary, he was astonished to see the animal roll his eyes in a furious manner, and seeming as if he wished him to make as little noise as possible, for fear of awaking the child, whom he clasped to his breast. The bear, though ravenous, did not appear the least moved with the food which was placed before him. The report of this extraordinary circumstance was soon spread at court, and reached the ears of Leopold, who, with part of his courtiers, was desirous of being satisfied of the truth of Marco's generosity. Several of them passed the night near his hut, and beheld, with astonishment, that the bear never stirred as long as his guest showed an inclination to sleep. At break of day, the child awoke, was very much ashamed to find himself discovered, and, fearing that he would be punished for his temerity, begged pardon. The bear, however, caressed him, and endeavored to prevail on him to eat what had been brought to him the evening before, which he did at the request of the spectators, who afterwards conducted him to the prince. Having learned the whole history of this singular alliance, and the time which it had continued, Leopold ordered care to be taken of the little Savoyard, who, doubtless, would have soon made his fortune, had he not died a short time after.

Munster relates the following story of a man being strangely relieved from a perilous situation: A countryman in Muscovy, in seeking for honey in the woods, mounted a stupendous tree, which was hollow in the centre of its trunk; and, discovering that it contained a large quantity of comb, descended into the hollow, where he stuck fast in the honey, which had been accumulated there to a great depth; and every effort on his part to extricate himself proved abortive. So remote was this tree, that it was impossible his voice could be heard. After remaining in this situation for two days, and allaying his hunger with the honey, all hope of being extricated was abandoned, and he gave himself up to despair. At last a bear, who, like himself, had come in search of honey, mounted the tree, and descended the hollow cleft, "stern forward." The man was at first alarmed, but mustered courage to seize the bear with all the firmness he could; upon which the animal took fright, made a speedy retreat, and dragged the peasant after it. When fairly out of the recess, he quitted his hold, and the bear made the best of its way to the ground, and escaped.

It would appear that, in the remote regions of the United States, the common black bear is occasionally found of a cinnamon color, and sometimes even white. Tanner gives us the following account: "Shortly after this, I killed an old she-bear, which was perfectly white. She had four cubs; one white, with red eyes and red nails, like herself; one red, and two black. In size, and other respects, she was the same as the common black bear; but she had nothing black about her but the skin of her lips. The fur of this kind is very fine, but not so highly valued by the traders as the red. The old one was very tame, and I shot her without difficulty; two of the young ones I shot in the hole, and two escaped into a tree.

"I had but just shot them when there came along three men, attracted, probably, by the sound of my gun. As these men were very hungry, I took them home with me, fed them, and gave them each a piece of meat, to carry home. Next day, I chased another bear into a low poplar-tree; but my gun being a poor one, I could not shoot him.

"A few days after, as I was hunting, I started, at the same moment, an elk and three young bears; the latter ran into a tree. I shot at the young bears, and two of them fell. As I thought one or both must only be wounded, I sprang towards the root of the tree, but had scarcely reached it when I saw the old she-bear coming in another direction. She caught up the cub which had fallen near her, and, raising it with her paws, while she stood on her hind feet, holding it as a woman holds a child, she looked at it for a moment, smelled the ball-hole, which was in its belly, and perceiving it was dead, dashed it down, and came directly towards me, gnashing her teeth, and walking so erect that her head stood as high as mine. All this was so sudden, that I scarce reloaded my gun, having only time to raise it, and fire, as she came within reach of the muzzle. I was now made to feel the necessity of a lesson the Indians had taught me, and which I very rarely neglected—that is, to think of nothing else before loading it again."

Some years ago, a boy, of New Hampshire, found a very young cub, near Lake Winnipeg, and carried it home with him. It was fed and brought up about the house of the boy's father, and became as tame as a dog.

Every day its youthful captor had to go to school at some distance, and, by degrees, the bear became his daily companion. At first, the other scholars were shy of the creature's acquaintance; but, ere long, it became their regular playfellow, and they delighted in sharing with it the little store of provisions which they brought, for their sustenance, in small bags. After two years of civilization, however, the bear wandered to the woods, and did not return. Search was made for him, but in vain.

Four succeeding years passed away, and, in the interval, changes had occurred in the school alluded to. An old dame had succeeded to the ancient master, and a new generation of pupils had taken the place of the former ones. One very cold, winter day, while the schoolmistress was busy with her humble lessons, a boy chanced to leave the door half way open, on his entrance, and, suddenly, a large bear walked in.

The consternation of the old lady, and her boys and girls, was unspeakable. Both schoolmistress and pupils would fain have been abroad; but the bear was in the path, and all that could be done was to fly off, as far as possible, behind the tables and benches. But the bear troubled nobody. He walked quietly up to the fireplace, and warmed himself, exhibiting much satisfaction in his countenance during the process.

He remained thus about a quarter of an hour, and then walked up to the wall where the provender bags and baskets of the pupils were suspended. Standing on his hind feet, he took hold of these successively, put his paws into them, and made free with the bread, fruit, and other eatables, therein contained. He next tried the schoolmistress's desk, where some little provisions usually were; but finding it firmly shut, he went up again to the fire, and, after a few minutes' stay before it, he walked out by the way he came in.

As soon as the schoolmistress and her pupils had courage to move, the alarm was given to the neighbors. Several young men immediately started after the bear, and, as its track was perfectly visible upon the snow, they soon came up with it, and killed it. Then it was that, by certain marks upon its skin, some of the pursuers recognized, in the poor bear, no enemy, but an old friend of their own recent school days. Great regret was felt at the loss of the creature. It was like killing a human friend rather than a wild animal.

Landor furnishes us with the following account: A man in Sweden set off one morning to shoot the cock of the woods. This bird is so extremely shy, that he may rarely be met with, except in the pairing season, when, every morning, he renews his song. He usually commences just before sunrise, beginning in a loud strain, which gradually sinks into a low key, until he is quite entranced with his own melody; he then droops his wings to the earth, and runs to the distance of several feet, calling, Cluck, cluck, cluck! during which time, he is said to be incapable of seeing, so wrapped up is he in his own contemplations, and may be caught even with the hand by those who are near enough, as the fit lasts only a few moments. If unready, wait for the next occasion; for, should he advance a step, except when the bird is thus insensible, he will certainly be overheard, and the victim escape.

The man I began to speak of, being, early one morning, in pursuit of this bird, heard his song at a short distance, and, as soon as the clucking commenced, of course advanced as rapidly as he could, and then remained motionless, till these particular notes were again sounded. It was quite dusk, the sun not having yet risen; but the song seemed to come from an open space in the forest, from which the sun was just emerging. He could not see many yards before him, and only followed the direction of the sound. It so happened that, from another point, but at no great distance, a bear was advancing on the bird, just in the manner of, and with the same steps as the man.

The hunter, whilst standing motionless, thought he perceived a dark object on one side of him; but it did not much engage his attention; at the usual note, he moved on toward the game, but was surprised to see that the black object had also advanced in an equal degree, and now stood on a line with him. Still he was so eager after the bird, that he could think of nothing else, and approached close to his prey before he perceived that a large bear stood within a few feet of him; in fact, just as they were about to spring on the bird, they caught sight of one another, and each thought proper to slink back. After having retreated a short distance, the man began to think it would be rather inglorious to yield the prize without a struggle; and there being now more light, he returned to the spot, when it appeared that the bear had also taken the same resolution, and was actually advancing over the same open space I have mentioned, growling, and tearing up the grass with her feet. Though the man had only shot in his gun, he fired without hesitation, and immediately took to his heels and fled, conceiving the bear to be close in his rear, and returned not to pause till he gained his own habitation. Having armed himself anew, and taken a companion with him, he again repaired to the spot, where he found the bear lying dead on the ground, some of the shots having entered her heart.

The American black bear lives a solitary life in forests and uncultivated deserts, and subsists on fruits, and on the young shoots and roots of vegetables. Of honey he is exceedingly fond, and, as he is a most expert climber, he scales the loftiest trees in search of it. Fish, too, he delights in, and is often found in quest of them, on the borders of lakes and on the sea-shore. When these resources fail, he will attack small quadrupeds, and even animals of some magnitude. As, indeed, is usual in such cases, the love of flesh, in him, grows with the use of it.

As the fur is of some value, the Indians are assiduous in the chase of the creature which produces it. "About the end of December, from the abundance of fruits they find in Louisiana and the neighboring countries, the bears become so fat and lazy that they can scarcely run. At this time they are hunted by the Indians. The nature of the chase is generally this: the bear chiefly adopts, for his retreat, the hollow trunk of an old cypress-tree, which he climbs, and then descends into the cavity from above. The hunter, whose business it is to watch him into this retreat, climbs a neighboring tree, and seats himself opposite to the hole. In one hand he holds his gun, and in the other a torch, which he darts into the cavity. Frantic with rage and terror, the bear makes a spring from his station; but the hunter seizes the instant of his appearance, and shoots him.

"The pursuit of the bear is a matter of the first importance to some of the Indian tribes, and is never undertaken without much ceremony. A principal warrior gives a general invitation to all the hunters. This is followed by a strict fast of eight days, in which they totally abstain from food, but during which the day is passed in continual song. This is done to invoke the spirits of the woods to direct the hunters to the places where there are abundance of bears. They even cut the flesh in divers parts of their bodies, to render the spirits more propitious. They also address themselves to the manes of the beasts slain in the preceding chases, and implore these to direct them, in their dreams, to an abundance of game. The chief of the hunt now gives a great feast, at which no one dares to appear without first bathing. At this entertainment, contrary to their usual custom, they eat with great moderation. The master of the feast touches nothing, but is employed in relating to the guests ancient tales of feasts in former chases; and fresh invocations to the manes of the deceased bears conclude the whole.

"They then sally forth, equipped as if for war, and painted black. They proceed on their way in a direct line, not allowing rivers, marshes, or any other impediment, to stop their course, and driving before them all the beasts they find. When they arrive at the hunting-ground, they surround as large a space as they can, and then contract their circle, searching, at the same time, every hollow tree, and every place capable of being the retreat of a bear; and they continue the same practice till the chase is expired.

"As soon as a bear is killed, a hunter puts into his mouth a lighted pipe of tobacco, and, blowing into it, fills the throat with the smoke, conjuring the spirit of the animal not to resent what they are about to do to its body, or to render their future chases unsuccessful. As the beast makes no reply, they cut out the string of the tongue, and throw it into the fire. If it crackle and shrivel up, which it is almost sure to do, they accept this as a good omen; if not, they consider that the spirit of the beast is not appeased, and that the chase of the next year will be unfortunate."

When our forefathers first settled in America, bears were common in all parts of the country along the Atlantic. Many adventures with them took place, some of which are recorded in the histories of the times. The following is said to have occurred at a later period:—

Some years since, when the western part of New York was in a state of nature, and wolves and bears were not afraid of being seen, some enterprising pilgrim had erected, and put in operation, a sawmill, on the banks of the Genesee. One day, as he was sitting on the log, eating his bread and cheese, a large, black bear came from the woods towards the mill. The man, leaving his luncheon on the log, made a spring, and seated himself on a beam above; when the bear, mounting the log, sat down with his rump towards the saw, which was in operation, and commenced satisfying his appetite on the man's dinner. After a little while, the saw progressed enough to interfere with the hair on bruin's back, and he hitched along a little, and kept on eating. Again the saw came up, and scratched a little flesh. The bear then whirled about, and, throwing his paws around the saw, held on, till he was mangled through and through, when he rolled off, fell through into the flood, and bled to death.

The Grisly Bear.—This creature, which is peculiar to North America, is, perhaps, the most formidable of the bruin family in magnitude and ferocity. He averages twice the bulk of the black bear, to which, however, he bears some resemblance in his slightly elevated forehead, and narrow, flattened, elongated muzzle. His canine teeth are of great size and power. The feet are enormously large—the breadth of the fore foot exceeding nine inches, and the length of the hind foot, exclusive of the talons, being eleven inches and three quarters, and its breadth seven inches. The talons sometimes measure more than six inches. He is, accordingly, admirably adapted for digging up the ground, but is unable to climb trees, in which latter respect he differs wholly from most other species. The color of his hair varies to almost an indefinite extent, between all the intermediate shades of a light gray and a black brown; the latter tinge, however, being that which predominates. It is always in some degree grizzled, by intermixture of grayish hairs. The hair itself is, in general, longer, finer, and more exuberant, than that of the black bear.

The neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains is one of the principal haunts of this animal. There, amidst wooded plains, and tangled copses of bough and underwood, he reigns as much the monarch as the lion is of the sandy wastes of Africa. Even the bison cannot withstand his attacks. Such is his muscular strength, that he will drag the ponderous carcass of the animal to a convenient spot, where he digs a pit for its reception. The Indians regard him with the utmost terror. His extreme tenacity of life renders him still more dangerous; for he can endure repeated wounds which would be instantaneously mortal to other beasts, and, in that state, can rapidly pursue his enemy; so that the hunter who fails to shoot him through the brain is placed in a most perilous situation.

One evening, the men in the hindmost of one of Lewis and Clark's canoes perceived one of these bears lying in the open ground, about three hundred paces from the river; and six of them, who were all good hunters, went to attack him. Concealing themselves by a small eminence, they were able to approach within forty paces unperceived; four of the hunters now fired, and each lodged a ball in his body, two of which passed directly through the lungs. The bear sprang up, and ran furiously, with open mouth, upon them; two of the hunters, who had reserved their fire, gave him two additional wounds, and one, breaking his shoulder-blade, somewhat retarded his motions. Before they could again load their guns, he came so close on them, that they were obliged to run towards the river, and before they had gained it, the bear had almost overtaken them. Two men jumped into the canoe; the other four separated, and, concealing themselves among the willows, fired as fast as they could load their pieces. Several times the bear was struck, but each shot seemed only to direct his fury towards the hunters; at last he pursued them so closely that they threw aside their guns and pouches, and jumped from a perpendicular bank, twenty feet high, into the river. The bear sprang after them, and was very near the hindmost man, when one of the hunters on the shore shot him through the head, and finally killed him. When they dragged him on shore, they found that eight balls had passed through his body in different directions.

Richardson relates the following story of a grisly bear. A party of voyagers, who had been employed all day in tracking a canoe up the Saskatchewan, had seated themselves, in the twilight, by a fire, and were busy in preparing their supper, when a large grisly bear sprang over their canoe that was behind them, and, seizing one of the party by the shoulder, carried him off. The rest fled in terror, with the exception of a man named Bourasso, who, grasping his gun, followed the bear as it was retreating leisurely with its prey. He called to his unfortunate comrade that he was afraid of hitting him if he fired at the bear; but the latter entreated him to fire immediately, as the animal was squeezing him to death. On this he took a deliberate aim, and discharged his piece into the body of the bear, which instantly dropped its prey to pursue Bourasso. He escaped with difficulty, and the bear retreated to a thicket, where it is supposed to have died. The man who was rescued had his arm fractured, and was otherwise severely bitten by the bear, but finally recovered.

The White Bear.—The polar bear is considerably larger than the brown or black bear, and is covered with a long, thick fur, of a bright white beneath and of a yellowish tinge above. Besides the difference in external appearance, there is a remarkable distinction between the brown and the polar bears; for the former prefers, as his abode, the wooded summits of alpine regions, feeding principally on roots and vegetables; while the latter fixes his residence on the sea-coast, or on an iceberg, and seems to delight in the stormy and inhospitable precincts of the arctic circle, where vegetation is scarcely known to exist, feeding entirely on animal matter. But it cannot be regarded as a predatory quadruped, for it seems to prefer dead to living animal food, its principal subsistence being the floating carcasses of whales. It also preys upon seals, which it catches with much keenness and certainty, as they ascend to the surface of the ocean to breathe; and sometimes fish are caught by them, when they enter shoals or gulfs. They move with great dexterity in the water, and capture their prey with apparent ease. It is only when these bears quit their winter quarters, and especially when the female has to protect her young, that they manifest great ferocity.

While the Carcass, one of the ships of Captain Phipps's voyage of discovery to the north pole, was locked in the ice, early one morning the man at the mast-head gave notice that three bears were making their way very fast over the Frozen Ocean, and were directing their course towards the ship. They had no doubt been invited by the scent of some blubber of a sea-horse, which the crew had killed a few days before, and which, having been set on fire, was burning on the ice at the time of their approach. They proved to be a she-bear and her two cubs; but the cubs were nearly as large as the dam. They ran eagerly to the fire, and drew out from the flames part of the flesh of the sea-horse that remained unconsumed, and ate it voraciously.

The crew of the ship threw great lumps of the flesh they had still left upon the ice, which the old bear fetched away singly, laying every piece before the cubs as she brought it, and, dividing it, gave each a share, reserving but a small portion to herself. As she was fetching away the last piece, they levelled their muskets at the cubs, and shot them both dead, at the same time wounding the dam in her retreat, but not mortally. It would have drawn tears of pity from any but the most unfeeling, to have marked the affectionate concern expressed by this poor animal, in the dying moments of her expiring young. Though she was sorely wounded, and could but just crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh she had just fetched away, as she had done the others, tore it in pieces, and laid it down before them. When she saw they refused to eat, she laid her paws first upon the one, then upon the other, and endeavored to raise them up, making, at the same time, the most pitiable moans.

Finding she could not stir them, she went off, and, when she had got to some distance, looked back, and moaned; and that not availing to entice them away, she returned, and, smelling round them, began to lick their wounds. She went off a second time, as before, and having crawled a few paces, looked again behind her, and for some time stood moaning. But still her cubs not rising to follow, she returned to them anew, and, with signs of inexpressible fondness, went round, pawing them successively. Finding, at last, that they were cold and lifeless, she raised her head towards the ship, and growled a curse upon the destroyers, which they returned with a volley of musket-balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their wounds.

The polar bears are remarkably sagacious, as the following instances may prove. Those in Kamtschatka are said to have recourse to a singular stratagem, in order to catch the bareins, which are much too swift of foot for them. These animals keep together in large herds; they frequent mostly the low grounds, and love to browse at the base of rocks and precipices. The bear hunts them by scent, till he comes in sight, when he advances warily, keeping above them, and concealing himself among the rocks, as he makes his approach, till he gets immediately over them, and near enough for his purpose. He then begins to push down, with his paws, pieces of rock among the herd below. This manœuvre is not followed by any attempt to pursue, until he finds he has maimed one of the flock, upon which a course immediately ensues, that proves successful, or otherwise, according to the hurt the barein has received.

The captain of a Greenland whaler, being anxious to procure a bear without injuring the skin, made trial of a stratagem of laying the noose of a rope in the snow, and placing a piece of kreng within it. A bear, ranging the neighboring ice, was soon enticed to the spot by the smell of burning meat. He perceived the bait, approached, and seized it in his mouth; but his foot, at the same time, by a jerk of the rope, being entangled in the noose, he pushed it off with his paw, and deliberately retired. After having eaten the piece he had carried away with him, he returned. The noose, with another piece of kreng, having been replaced, he pushed the rope aside, and again walked triumphantly off with the bait. A third time the noose was laid; but, excited to caution by the evident observations of the bear, the sailors buried the rope beneath the snow, and laid the bait in a deep hole dug in the centre. The animal once more approached, and the sailors were assured of their success. But bruin, more sagacious than they expected, after snuffing about the place for a few moments, scraped the snow away with his paw, threw the rope aside, and again escaped unhurt with his prize.

A Greenland bear, with two cubs under her protection, was pursued across a field of ice by a party of armed sailors. At first, she seemed to urge the young ones to an increase of speed, by running before them, turning round, and manifesting, by a peculiar action and voice, her anxiety for their progress; but, finding her pursuers gaining upon them, she carried, or pushed, or pitched them alternately forward, until she effected their escape. In throwing them before her, the little creatures are said to have placed themselves across her path to receive the impulse, and, when projected some yards in advance, they ran onwards, until she overtook them, when they alternately adjusted themselves for another throw.

In the month of June, 1812, a female bear, with two cubs, approached near a whale ship, and was shot. The cubs, not attempting to escape, were taken alive. These animals, though at first very unhappy, became, at length, in some measure reconciled to their situation, and, being tolerably tame, were allowed occasionally to go at large about the deck. While the ship was moored to a floe, a few days after they were taken, one of them, having a rope fastened round his neck, was thrown overboard. It immediately swam to the ice, got upon it, and attempted to escape. Finding itself, however, detained by the rope, it endeavored to disengage itself in the following ingenious way: Near the edge of the floe was a crack in the ice, of considerable length, but only eighteen inches or two feet wide, and three or four feet deep. To this spot the bear turned, and when, on crossing the chasm, the bight of the rope fell into it, he placed himself across the opening; then, suspending himself by his hind feet, with a leg on each side, he dropped his head and most part of his body into the chasm, and, with a foot applied to each side of the neck, attempted, for some minutes, to push the rope over his head. Finding this scheme ineffectual, he removed to the main ice, and, running with great impetuosity from the ship, gave a remarkable pull on the rope; then, going backwards a few steps, he repeated the jerk. At length, after repeated attempts to escape this way, every failure of which he announced by a significant growl, he yielded himself to hard necessity, and lay down on the ice in angry and sullen silence.

Like the brown and black bear, polar bears are animals capable of great fierceness. Brentz, in his voyage in search of the north-east passage to China, had horrid proofs of their ferocity in the Island of Nova Zembla, where they attacked his seamen, seizing them in their mouth, carrying them off with the utmost ease, and devouring them even in sight of their comrades.

About twenty years ago, the crew of a boat belonging to a ship in the whale fishery, shot at a bear some little distance off, and wounded him. The animal immediately set up a dreadful howl, and scampered along the ice towards the boat. Before he reached it, he had received a second wound. This increased his fury, and he presently plunged into the water, and swam to the boat; and, in his attempt to board it, he placed one of his fore paws upon the gunwale, and would have gained his point, had not one of the sailors seized a hatchet and cut it off. Even this had not the effect of damping his courage; for he followed the boat till it reached the ship, from whence several shots were fired at him, which hit, but did not mortally wound him: he approached the vessel, and ascended the deck, where, from his dreadful fury, he spread such consternation, that all the crew fled to the shrouds, and he was in the act of pursuing them thither, when an effective shot laid him dead on the deck.

This animal is peculiar to America. He resembles the bear, but is much smaller and more elegantly formed. He is an active and lively animal; an excellent climber of trees, in which the sharpness of his claws greatly aids him; and he will even venture to the extremity of slender branches. He is a good-tempered animal, and, consequently, easily tamed; but his habit of prying into every thing renders him rather troublesome, for he is in constant motion, and examining every object within his reach. He generally sits on his hinder parts when feeding, conveying all his food to his mouth with his fore paws. He will eat almost every kind of food, but is particularly fond of sweetmeats, and will indulge in spirituous liquors even to drunkenness. He feeds chiefly at night, in a wild state, and sleeps during the day.

Brickell gives an interesting account, in his "History of North Carolina," of the cunning manifested by the raccoon in pursuit of its prey. "It is fond of crabs, and, when in quest of them, will take its station by a swamp, and hang its tail over into the water, which the crabs mistake for food, and lay hold of it; as soon as the raccoon feels them pinch, it pulls up its tail with a sudden jerk, and they generally quit their hold upon being removed from the water. The raccoon instantly seizes the crabs in its mouth, removes them to a distance from the water, and greedily devours its prey. It is very careful how it takes them up, which it always does from behind, holding them transversely, in order to prevent their catching its mouth with their nippers."

When enraged, or desirous of attacking a person, the raccoon advances with arched back and bristling hair, and with its chin or under jaw close to the ground, uttering gruff sounds of displeasure. If once injured, it seldom forgives its enemy. On one occasion, a servant struck a tame raccoon with a whip: in vain did he afterwards attempt a reconciliation; neither eggs, nor food most coveted by the animal, availed in pacifying it. At his approach, it flew into a sort of fury; it darted at him with sparkling eyes, uttering loud cries.

Its accents of anger were very singular; sometimes one might fancy them the whistling of the curlew, at others, the hoarse bark of an old dog. If any one beat it, it opposed no resistance; it concealed its head and its paws, like the hedgehog, by rolling itself into a ball. In this position it would suffer death. When its chain broke, it would allow no one to approach it, and it was with great difficulty refettered.

This animal, which frequents the woods of South America, resembles the raccoon, but is smaller. He is in the habit of rooting under trees, and thus overturns many of them, even those of large size. The most curious incident in his history, is that he eats his own tail! This is explained by Godman as follows: "The extreme length of its tail, in which the blood circulates but feebly, exposes it to the influence of cold or frost; and the exceedingly tormenting irritation produced thereby leads the animal to gnaw and scratch the tail, to relieve the excessive itching. The disease spreads, and the anguish induces the coati to gnaw more furiously, and eventually its life is destroyed by the extension of the inflammation and irritability to the spine."

Of this animal there are two species, one European, the other American; but they have a strong resemblance. It has short legs, and a long body; lives in burrows by day, and goes forth at night to prey on roots, snails, and worms. The American species seems to be more carnivorous than his foreign relation: in this respect he has high example, for the people of America eat more butcher's meat than those of Europe—for the reason, however, that they are so fortunate as to be able to get it.

In Europe, the badger is hunted as a matter of sport, the chief amusement being derived from the fierce resistance he makes to the dogs. In South America, the creature is eaten, and badger hams are deemed a delicacy. Catching this animal is a great source of interest to the Indians. We are told that a "party of eight, in one of their expeditions, will destroy two or three hundred badgers, and a quantity of deer on their return home, besides guanas. These hunting parties are so delightful, even to the women, that the hopes of being allowed to accompany the men will make them behave well all the year. On these excursions they live well, and seem more happy than during the rainy season; in their way home, they travel day and night rapidly, in spite of obstructions, carrying long poles between them, on which the animals are slung—the boys carrying the skins and lard; the dogs too are well fed during this period, and seem to return with regret. A cloud of vultures generally hover over them, and are seen by their clans a day or two before they arrive, who make every preparation to receive them; their return is greeted like that of victors. The rainy nights are passed in recounting their exploits one to another."

The habits of the badger are said to be "the most social of any quadruped in the universe; it is not known to quarrel with any other animal; even the fox, polecat, opossum, land crab, and snake, make it resign its abode, although it is much stronger than any of them. It also lives in the greatest harmony with its own species, subsisting principally on nuts, roots, and vegetables; it is cleanly in its habits, being observed to perform its ablutions while the dew is on the ground."

This animal, which is called wolverene in this country, and carcajou by the Canadians, is about three feet long, and of a dark-brown color. It is strong and courageous, and will even attack and destroy the fox in its burrow. Its extraordinary voracity gives the impulse to all its exertions. Incessantly in search of food, it kills animals larger and stronger than itself, seizes the deer which the hunter has just shot, plunders the baits on his traps, or the game these have taken. A proof at once of the strength, the cunning, and the strong appetite, of the glutton, was afforded by one, at Hudson's Bay, some years since, which overset the greatest part of a pile of wood of great extent, which contained a whole winter's firing; his object was to get at some provisions that had been hidden there by the company's servants when going to the factory to spend the Christmas holidays.

This animal had for many weeks been lurking about their tent, and had committed many depredations on the game caught in their traps and snares, as well as eaten many of the foxes that were killed by guns set for the purpose; but he was too cunning to touch either gun or trap himself. The people thought they had adopted the best method to secure their provisions, by tying them in bundles, and laying them on the top of wood piles. To their astonishment, when they returned, they found the greatest part of the pile thrown down, notwithstanding some of the trees with which it was constructed were as much as two men could carry. The wood was very much scattered about; and it was supposed that, in the animal's attempting to carry off the booty, some of the small parcels of provisions had fallen down into the heart of the pile, and sooner than lose half his prize, he was at the trouble of pulling away the wood. The bags of flour, oatmeal, and peas, though of no use to him, he tore all to pieces, and scattered the contents about on the snow; but every bit of animal food, consisting of beef, pork, bacon, venison, salted geese, and partridges, in considerable quantities, he carried away.

When attacked by other animals, the glutton fights desperately, and three stout dogs are scarcely its match. A man who had tamed one of them threw it one day into the water, and set a couple of dogs upon it, when it immediately seized one of them by the head, and held it under water till it was drowned.

The weasel stands as the type of a large number of animals, such as the marten, sable, polecat, otter, skunk, &c.; all being characterized by a long body, short legs, and considerable energy of disposition. Some of the species are celebrated for their abominable odor.

The weasel is an active, bloodthirsty little animal, not exceeding seven inches in length from the nose to the tail. It is much about the same size as a rat, though more slender; but it is a mortal enemy to this animal, pursuing them to their holes, and killing them in great numbers. It is also often fatal to the hare, as it will either creep upon it when at rest, or, lying unseen amidst the rubbish or furze, will spring at its throat; where, as in the case of other animals which it kills, it fixes its bite, and then sucks the blood till its victim expires. It makes a hole in the ends of eggs, and sucks the contents—differently from the rat, which breaks the shell to pieces. It is a destructive enemy to pigeons, as it creeps into the holes of a dove-cot in the evening, and surprises its prey while they are asleep; and, from the peculiar construction of its body, there are few situations it is incapable of reaching; for it can clamber up an almost perpendicular wall. When it sees a man, it endeavors as quickly as possible to get out of the way, and hide itself amidst the grass or loose stones; but if trodden on, or seized, it will turn and bite, like a serpent. An ordinary dog does not wish to attack it, for it instantly fastens itself on his lips.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—Weasels seem to unite, in many cases, for mutual defence, or the attack of man. In January, 1818, a laborer in the parish of Glencairn, Dumfriesshire, was suddenly attacked by six weasels, which rushed upon him from an old dike in the field where he was at work. The man, alarmed at such a furious onset, instantly betook himself to flight; but he soon found he was closely pursued. Although he had about him a large horsewhip, with which he endeavored, by several back-handed strokes, to stop them, yet, so eager was the pursuit of the weasels, 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, manfully rallied upon his enemies, and had such success, that he killed three of them, and put the remaining three to flight.

A similar case occurred some years ago at Gilmerton, near Edinburgh, when a gentleman, observing a person leaping about in an extraordinary manner, made up to him, and found him beset, and dreadfully bitten, by about fifteen weasels, which continued their attack. Being both strong persons, they succeeded in killing a number, and the rest escaped by flying into the fissures of a neighboring rock. The account the person gave of the commencement of the affray was, that, walking through the park, he ran at a weasel which he saw, and made several attempts to strike it, remaining between it and the rock to which its retreat lay. The animal, being thus circumstanced, squeaked aloud, when an instantaneous sortie was made by the colony, and an attack commenced.

The weasel is exceedingly difficult to tame. When kept in a cage, it seems in a perpetual state of agitation, is terrified at the sight of all who approach to look at it, and generally endeavors to hide itself behind the straw, or other substances, which may be at the bottom of its cage. Yet instances are not wanting to prove that the weasel may be brought into complete subjection. Mademoiselle de Laistre, in a letter on this subject, gives a very pleasing account of the education and manners of a weasel which she took under her protection, and which frequently ate from her hand, seemingly more delighted with this manner of feeding than any other. "If I pour," says this lady, "some milk into my hand, it will drink a good deal; but if I do not pay it this compliment, it will scarcely take a drop. When satisfied, it generally goes to sleep. My chamber is the place of its residence; and I have found a method of dispelling its strong smell by perfumes. By day it sleeps in a quilt, into which it gets by an unsewn place which it has discovered on the edge; during the night, it is kept in a wired box or cage, which it always enters with reluctance, and leaves with pleasure. If it be set at liberty before my time of rising, after a thousand little playful tricks, it gets into my bed, and goes to sleep on my hand or on my bosom.

"If I am up first, it spends a full half hour in caressing me; playing with my fingers like a little dog, jumping on my head and on my neck, and running round on my arms and body with a lightness and elegance which I never found in any other animal. If I present my hands at the distance of three feet, it jumps into them without ever missing. It shows a great deal of address and cunning in order to compass its ends, and seems to disobey certain prohibitions merely through caprice. During all its actions it seems solicitous to divert, and to be noticed; looking, at every jump, and at every turn, to see whether it be observed or not. If no notice be taken of its gambols, it ceases them immediately, and betakes itself to sleep; and when awakened from the soundest sleep, it instantly resumes its gayety, and frolics about in as sprightly a manner as before. It never shows any ill-humor, unless when confined, or teased too much; in which case it expresses its displeasure by a sort of murmur very different from that which it utters when pleased. In the midst of twenty people, this little animal distinguishes my voice, seeks me out, and springs over every body to come to me. His play with me is the most lovely and caressing; with his two little paws he pats me on the chin, with an air and manner expressive of delight. This, and a thousand other preferences, show that his attachment is real.

"When he sees me dressed to go out, he will not leave me, and it is not without some trouble that I can disengage myself from him. He then hides himself behind a cabinet near the door, and jumps upon me, as I pass, with so much celerity, that I often can scarcely perceive him. He seems to resemble a squirrel in vivacity, agility, voice, and his manner of murmuring. During the summer he squeaks and runs all the night long; and since the commencement of the cold weather, I have not observed this. Sometimes, when the sun shines while he is playing on the bed, he turns and tumbles about, and murmurs for a while.

"From his delight in drinking milk out of my hand, into which I pour a very little at a time, and his custom of sipping the little drops and edges of the fluid, it seems probable that he drinks dew in the same manner. He very seldom drinks water, and then only for the want of milk; and with great caution, seeming only to refresh his tongue once or twice, and to be even afraid of that fluid. During the hot weather, it rained a good deal. I presented to him some rain water in a dish, and endeavored to make him go into it, but could not succeed. I then wetted a piece of linen cloth in it, and put it near him, when he rolled upon it with extreme delight. One singularity in this charming animal is his curiosity; it being impossible to open a drawer or box, or even to look at a paper, but it will examine it also. If he gets into any place where I am afraid to let him stay, I take a paper or a book, and look attentively at it, when he immediately runs upon my hand, and surveys, with an inquisitive air, whatever I happen to hold. I must further observe, that he plays with a young cat and dog, both of some size; getting about their necks and paws without their doing him the least harm."

The following story regarding the weasel is told in Selkirkshire: "A group of haymakers, while busy at their work on Chapelhope meadow, at the upper end of St. Mary's Loch,—or rather of the Loch of the Lowes, which is separated from it by a narrow neck of land,—saw an eagle rising above the steep mountains that enclose the narrow valley. The eagle himself was, indeed, no unusual sight; but there is something so imposing and majestic in the flight of this noble bird, while he soars upwards in spiral circles, that it fascinates the attention of most people. But the spectators were soon aware of something peculiar in the flight of the bird they were observing. He used his wings violently; and the strokes were often repeated, as if he had been alarmed and hurried by unusual agitation; and they noticed, at the same time, that he wheeled in circles that seemed constantly decreasing, while his ascent was proportionally rapid. The now idle haymakers drew together in close consultation on the singular case, and continued to keep their eyes on the seemingly distressed eagle, until he was nearly out of sight, rising still higher and higher into the air. In a short while, however, they were all convinced that he was again seeking the earth, evidently not, as he ascended, in spiral curves; it was like something falling, and with great rapidity. But, as he approached the ground, they clearly saw he was tumbling in his fall like a shot bird; the convulsive fluttering of his powerful wings stopping the descent but very little, until he fell at a small distance from the men and boys of the party, who had naturally run forward, highly excited by the strange occurrence. A large black-tailed weasel or stoat ran from the body as they came near; turned with the nonchalance and impudence of the tribe; stood up upon its hind legs; crossed its fore paws over its nose, and surveyed its enemies a moment or two,—as they often do when no dog is near,—and bounded into a saugh bush. The king of the air was dead; and, what was more surprising, he was covered with his own blood; and, upon further examination, they found his throat cut, and the weasel has been suspected as the regicide unto this day."

This animal, which is confined to the eastern continent, is thrice the size of the weasel, but its prey is nearly the same. It has as high a reputation in Europe, for its offensive smell, as the skunk has here. The following fact is recorded in Bewick's Quadrupeds: "During a severe storm, one of these animals was traced in the snow from the side of a rivulet to its hole at some distance from it. As it was observed to have made frequent trips, and as other marks were to be seen in the snow, which could not easily be accounted for, it was thought a matter worthy of greater attention. Its hole was accordingly examined, the polecat taken, and eleven fine eels were discovered to be the fruits of its nocturnal exertions. The marks on the snow were found to have been made by the motions of the eels while in the creature's mouth."

This animal is a native of Africa, and requires much care to preserve it alive in cold countries. It is kept for the purpose of dislodging rabbits from their warren, and has such a natural antipathy to these animals, that, if a dead one be presented to a young ferret, though it has never seen a rabbit before, it will eagerly seize it. Like the rest of the species, it is remarkable for the pertinacity with which it retains the bite which it has once taken. This circumstance is illustrated by the following occurrence: A man, of the name of Isles, a bargeman, finding himself much incommoded by the repeated mischief done in his barge by rats, procured a ferret to destroy them. The ferret remaining away a considerable time, he thought it was devouring some rats that it had killed, and went to sleep, but was awakened early next morning by the ferret, who was commencing an attack upon him. The animal had seized him near his eyebrow; and the man, after endeavoring in vain to shake him off, at length severed the body from the head with a knife,—the latter still sticking so fast, as to be with difficulty removed.

This animal is found throughout a great extent of country, from Carolina to Hudson's Bay, and in its habits and appearance resembles the otter. The favorite haunts of this species are the banks of streams, where it inhabits holes near the water. It is an excellent swimmer and diver, and feeds on frogs and fish. It also commits great depredations in the poultry-yard. When provoked, it ejects a fetid liquor, which is exceedingly unpleasant.

Of this animal there are two or three species, confined to the northern regions of the eastern continent. Of all the weasel tribe it is the most pleasing; all its motions show great grace as well as agility; and there is scarcely an animal in our woods that will venture to oppose it. Quadrupeds five times as large are easily vanquished; the hare, the sheep, and even the wild-cat itself, is not a match for it. We are told of a marten which had been tamed, and was extremely pretty and playful in its manners. It went among the houses of the neighborhood, and always returned home when hungry. It was extremely fond of a dog that had been bred with it, and used to play with it as cats are seen to play, lying on its back, and biting without anger or injury.

This animal, as well as several others of the tribe, is greatly valued for its fur. It resembles the marten, and is found in the northern parts of both continents. The enterprise, perseverance, and hardships of the hunters, in America as well as Siberia, in pursuit of this creature, are almost incredible. In the latter country, the hunting of the sable chiefly falls to the lot of condemned criminals, who are sent from Russia into these wild and extensive forests, that for the greatest part of the year are covered with snow; and in this instance, as in many others, the luxuries and ornaments of the vain are wrought out of the dangers and miseries of the wretched. These are obliged to furnish a certain number of skins every year, and are punished if the proper quantity is not provided.

The sable is also killed by the Russian soldiers, who are sent into those parts for the purpose. They are taxed a certain number of skins yearly, and are obliged to shoot with only a single ball, to avoid spoiling the skin, or else with cross-bows and blunt arrows. As an encouragement to the hunters, they are allowed to share among themselves the surplus of those skins which they thus procure; and this, in the process of six or seven years, amounts to a considerable sum. A colonel, during his seven years' stay, gains about four thousand crowns for his share, and the common men earn six or seven hundred each.

Of this animal there are several varieties upon the American continent, to which it is confined; though we have but one in this quarter of the United States. This is of the size of a cat, and striped with black and white. Its celebrity depends exclusively upon its peculiar mode of defence—that of discharging upon its foe a liquid of the most revolting and intolerable odor, and of such vigor as to fill the air for half a mile around.

Some years ago, a Frenchman, who had settled at Hartford, Connecticut, was going home from Wethersfield, a place renowned for raising onions. It was evening, and in the twilight the man saw a little animal crossing the path before him. Not knowing or suspecting its character, he darted upon it, caught it, and put it in his pocket. When he reached home, he took it out, and a general exclamation of astonishment burst from the household, at the extraordinary flavor of the little beast. "What is it?" "What can it be?"—was the general inquiry. "I cannot say," said the Frenchman; "but I suppose it must be a Wethersfield kitten!"

On a certain occasion, Dr. B——, an eminent divine, was walking at evening in a by-way, when he saw a small animal trotting along before him. He easily guessed its true character, and having a volume of Rees's Cyclopedia under his arm, he hurled it with all his might at the suspicious quadruped. It took effect, but the animal retorted by discharging, both upon the Cyclopedia and the D.D., a shaft from his abominable quiver. It seems that the event made an indelible impression both upon the garments and the memory of the divine; the former he buried; and when, some years after, he was advised to write a book against a rival sect, he replied, "No, no!—I once threw a quarto at a skunk, and got the worst of it. I shall not repeat such folly."

"In the year 1749," says Kahn, "one of these animals came near the farm where I lived. It was in winter time, during the night; and the dogs that were on watch pursued it for some time, until it discharged against them. Although I was in a bed at some distance from the scene of action, I thought I should have been suffocated, and the cows and oxen, by their lowing, showed how much they were affected by the stench.

"About the end of the same year, another of these animals crept into our cellar, but did not exhale the smallest scent when undisturbed. A foolish woman, however, who perceived it one night by the shining of its eyes, killed it, and at that moment the fetid odor began to spread. The cellar was filled with it to such a degree that the woman kept her bed for several days; and all the bread, meat, and other provisions that were kept there, were so infected, that they were obliged to be thrown out of doors."

The otter is a native of the greater part of Europe and America. Its principal food being fish, it makes its habitation on the banks of rivers, where it burrows to some depth.

Anecdotes.—The females produce from four to five at a birth. Their parental affection is so powerful, that they will frequently suffer themselves to be killed rather than quit their progeny; and this has frequently been the occasion of their losing their lives, when they might, otherwise, have escaped. Professor Steller says, "Often have I spared the lives of the female otters, whose young ones I took away. They expressed their sorrow by crying like human beings, and followed me as I was carrying off their young ones, which called to them for aid, with a tone of voice which very much resembled the wailing of children. When I sat down in the snow, they came quite close to me, and attempted to carry off their young. On one occasion, when I had deprived an otter of her progeny, I returned to the place eight days after, and found the female sitting by the river, listless and desponding; she suffered me to kill her on the spot without making any attempt to escape. On skinning her, I found she was quite wasted away, from sorrow for the loss of her young. Another time I saw, at some distance from me, an old female otter sleeping by the side of a young one, about a year old. As soon as the mother perceived us, she awoke the young one, and enticed him to betake himself to the river; but, as he did not take the hint, and seemed inclined to prolong his sleep, she took him up in her fore paws and plunged him into the water."

The otter is naturally ferocious; but when taken young, and properly treated, it can be rendered tame, and taught to catch fish, and fetch them to its master. James Campbell, near Inverness, procured a young otter, which he brought up and domesticated. It would follow him wherever he chose; and, if called on by its name, would immediately obey. When apprehensive of danger from dogs, it sought the protection of its master, and would endeavor to spring into his arms for greater security. It was frequently employed in catching fish, and would sometimes take eight or ten salmon in a day. If not prevented, it always made an attempt to break the fish behind the anal fin, which is next the tail; and, as soon as one was taken away, it always dived in pursuit of more. It was equally dexterous at sea-fishing, and took great numbers of young cod, and other fish, there. When tired, it would refuse to fish any longer, and was then rewarded with as much as it could devour. Having satisfied its appetite, it always coiled itself round, and fell asleep; in which state it was generally carried home.

It appears that the otter, in its native haunts, is of a playful and sportive humor. We are told that, on the banks of the northern rivers, where they dwell unmolested, they may be sometimes seen sliding down the soft, muddy banks into the water, like a parcel of boys coasting upon the snow. They become quite animated with the sport, seeming to emulate each other in the vigor and frolic of their performances.

The sea otter is a larger species, living in pairs along the northern shores of the Pacific Ocean.

The dog, in its wild state, differs little in its habits from those of the same order of quadrupeds; it resembles the wolf rather than the fox, hunts in troops, and, thus associated, attacks the most formidable animals—wild boars, tigers, and even lions. They are said, however, even while in this condition, to exhibit a disposition to yield to man; and, if approached by him with gentleness, will submit to be caressed. On the other hand, if dogs that have been once tamed are driven from the haunts of men, and the protection to which they have been accustomed, they readily become wild, and associate together in troops. In Asia, there are multitudes of these animals around the towns, which live in a half-wild state, calling no man master.

But when domesticated, the dog presents the appearance of the most thorough submission to the will, and subservience to the use of man. If we look at the individual, we perceive it attached to a person whom it acknowledges as master, with whom it has formed a very humble alliance, and whose interest it considers its own. It answers to its name, is willing to follow its master wherever he goes, and exerts all its energies in any service to which he may command it, and that without any constraint except what arises from its own disposition. A more perfect image of obedience and subservience cannot be conceived. If, on the other hand, we survey the species, we find it in every variety of size, and shape, and disposition, according to the various services of which it is capable. The division of labor is almost as complete, among the different species of the dog, as among men themselves. It, like its masters, gives up the exercise of one faculty that it may bring another to a greater perfection.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—The anecdotes which go to display the intelligence and fidelity of dogs, are almost innumerable. Of these, we can give only a few specimens. "My dog Sirrah," says the Ettrick shepherd, "was, beyond all comparison, the best dog I ever saw. He was of a surly and unsocial temper. Disdaining all flattery, he refused to be caressed; but his attention to my commands and interests will never again, perhaps, be equalled by any of the canine race. When I first saw him, a drover was leading him in a rope. He was both lean and hungry, and far from being a beautiful animal, for he was almost all black, and had a grim face, striped with dark-brown. The man had bought him of a boy, somewhere on the Border, for three shillings, and had fed him very ill on his journey. I thought I discovered a sort of sullen intelligence in his countenance, notwithstanding his dejected and forlorn appearance. I gave the drover a guinea for him, and I believe there never was a guinea so well laid out; at least, I am satisfied I never laid one out to so good a purpose. He was scarcely a year old, and knew so little of herding, that he had never turned a sheep in his life; but as soon as he discovered that it was his duty to do so, and that it obliged me, I can never forget with what anxiety and eagerness he learned his different evolutions. He would try every way deliberately, till he found out what I wanted him to do; and, when I once made him understand a direction, he never forgot or mistook it again. Well as I knew him, he often astonished me; for, when hard pressed in accomplishing the task that he was put to, he had expedients of the moment that bespoke a great share of the reasoning faculty."

Among other remarkable exploits of Sirrah, illustrative of his sagacity, Mr. Hogg relates that, upon one occasion, about seven hundred lambs, which were under his care at weaning time, broke up at midnight, and scampered off, in three divisions, across the neighboring hills, in spite of all that he and an assistant could do to keep them together. The night was so dark that he could not see Sirrah; but the faithful animal heard his master lament their absence in words which, of all others, were sure to set him most on the alert; and, without more ado, he silently set off in quest of the recreant flock. Meanwhile, the shepherd and his companion did not fail to do all in their power to recover their lost charge; they spent the whole night in scouring the hills for miles round, but of neither the lambs nor Sirrah could they obtain the slightest trace. It was the most extraordinary circumstance that had ever occurred in the annals of pastoral life. They had nothing to do, as day had dawned, but to return to their master, and inform him that they had lost his whole flock of lambs, and knew not what was become of one of them. "On our way home, however," says Mr. Hogg, "we discovered a lot of lambs at the bottom of a deep ravine called the Flesh Cleuch, and the indefatigable Sirrah standing in front of them, looking round for some relief, but still true to his charge. The sun was then up; and when we first came in view, we concluded that it was one of the divisions, which Sirrah had been unable to manage until he came to that commanding situation. But what was our astonishment when we discovered that not one lamb of the whole flock was wanting! How he had got all the divisions collected in the dark is beyond my comprehension. The charge was left entirely to himself from midnight until the rising sun; and if all the shepherds in the Forest had been there to have assisted him, they could not have effected it with greater propriety. All that I can further say is, that I never felt so grateful to any creature under the sun, as I did to my honest Sirrah that morning."

Sir Walter Scott has furnished an anecdote on this subject, concerning a dog, which, though meritorious in himself, must ever deserve the greatest share of fame and interest from the circumstance of having belonged to such a master. "The wisest dog," says Sir Walter, "I ever had, was what is called the bull-dog terrier. I taught him to understand a great many words, insomuch that I am positive that the communication betwixt the canine species and ourselves might be greatly enlarged. Camp once bit the baker, who was bringing bread to the family. I beat him, and explained the enormity of his offence; after which, to the last moment of his life, he never heard the least allusion to the story, in whatever voice or tone it was mentioned, without getting up and retiring into the darkest corner of the room, with great appearance of distress. Then, if you said, 'The baker was well paid,' or 'The baker was not hurt after all,' Camp came forth from his hiding-place, capered, barked, and rejoiced. When he was unable, towards the end of his life, to attend me when on horseback, he used to watch for my return, and the servant used to tell him 'his master was coming down the hill, or through the moor;' and although he did not use any gesture to explain his meaning, Camp was never known to mistake him, but either went out at the front to go up the hill, or at the back to get down to the moor-side. He certainly had a singular knowledge of spoken language."

It has been made a question, whether the dog remembers his master after a long period of separation. The voice of antiquity favors the affirmative. Homer makes the dog of Ulysses to recognize him after many years' absence, and describes Eumenes, the swineherd, as being thus led to apprehend, in the person before him, the hero, of seeing whom he had long despaired. Byron, on the other hand, was skeptical on this point. Writing to a friend, who had requested the results of his experience on the subject,—he states that, on seeing a large dog, which had belonged to him, and had formerly been a favorite, chained at Newstead, the animal sprang towards him, as he conceived, in joy—but he was glad to make his escape from it, with the comparatively trivial injury of the loss of the skirts of his coat. Perhaps this circumstance may have suggested the following verses of the poet:—

"And now I'm in the world alone,

Upon the wide, wide sea;

But why should I for others groan,

When none will sigh for me?

Perchance my dog will whine in vain,

Till fed by stranger hands;

But long ere I come back again,

He'd tear me where he stands."

The affection of the dog for his master does not end with his life; and innumerable are the anecdotes on record of dogs, which have continued to pine after their master's death, or died immediately after. We shall select but one or two well-authenticated instances, for they are all so much alike, that it is unnecessary to produce many. It is said, in the Life of Mary, Queen of Scots, lately published at Glasgow, that, after her head was cut off, her little favorite lapdog, which had affectionately followed her, and unobserved had nestled among her clothes, now continued to caress her, and would not leave the body till forced away, and then died two days afterwards.

Mr. Renton, of Lammerton, had a herdsman, who, pursuing a sheep that had run down the steep bank of Blackadder Water, fell into the river and was drowned. His dog, a common shepherd's dog, returned home next morning, and led his wife to the spot, holding her by the apron. The body was found. The dog followed it even to the grave, and died in a few days.

A mastiff dog belonging to the Honorable Peter Bold, England, attended his master in his chamber during the tedious sickness consequent on a pulmonary consumption. After the gentleman expired, and his corpse had been removed, the dog repeatedly entered the apartment, making a mournful, whining noise; he continued his researches for several days through all the rooms of the house, but in vain. He then retired to his kennel, which he could not be induced to leave; refusing all manner of sustenance, he soon died. Of this fact, and his previous affection, the surgeon who attended his master was an eye-witness.

The regret of the dog for its master's death is not confined to inactive sorrow; if his death has been caused by violence, it discovers a singular and persevering hatred of the murderers, which in some cases has led to their detection. The following instance is related in a letter, written in 1764, by a gentleman at Dijon, in France, to his friend in London: "Since my arrival here, a man has been broken on the wheel, with no other proof to condemn him than that of a water-spaniel. The circumstances attending it being so very singular and striking, I beg leave to communicate them to you. A farmer, who had been to receive a sum of money, was waylaid, robbed, and murdered, by two villains. The farmer's dog returned with all speed to the house of the person who had paid the money, and expressed such amazing anxiety that he would follow him, pulling him several times by the sleeve and skirt of the coat, that at length the gentleman yielded to his importunity. The dog led him to the field, a little from the roadside, where the body lay. From thence the gentleman went to a public house, in order to alarm the country. The moment he entered, (as the two villains were there drinking,) the dog seized the murderer by the throat, and the other made his escape. This man lay in prison three months, during which time they visited him once a week with the spaniel; and though they made him change his clothes with other prisoners, and always stand in the midst of a crowd, yet did the animal always find him out, and fly at him. On the day of trial, when the prisoner was at the bar, the dog was let loose in the court-house, and, in the midst of some hundreds, he found him out, though dressed entirely in new clothes, and would have torn him to pieces had he been allowed; in consequence of which he was condemned, and at the place of execution he confessed the fact. Surely so useful, so disinterestedly faithful an animal, should not be so barbarously treated as I have often seen them, particularly in London."

Other cases might be produced, but we shall only present that of the dog of Montargis, which has become familiar to the public by being made the subject of a melodrame frequently acted at the present time. The fame of this English blood-hound has been transmitted by a monument in basso-relievo, which still remains in the chimney-piece of the grand hall, at the Castle of Montargis, in France. The sculpture, which represents a dog fighting with a champion, is explained by the following narrative: Aubri de Mondidier, a gentleman of family and fortune, travelling alone through the Forest of Bondy, was murdered, and buried under a tree. His dog, a bloodhound, would not quit his master's grave for several days; till at length, compelled by hunger, he proceeded to the house of an intimate friend of the unfortunate Aubri, at Paris, and, by his melancholy howling, seemed desirous of expressing the loss sustained. He repeated his cries, ran to the door, looked back to see if any one followed him, returned to his master's friend, pulled him by the sleeve, and, with dumb eloquence, entreated him to go with him. The singularity of all these actions of the dog, added to the circumstance of his coming there without his master, whose faithful companion he had always been, prompted the company to follow the animal, who conducted them to a tree, where he renewed his howl, scratching the earth with his feet, and significantly entreating them to search the particular spot. Accordingly, on digging, the body of the unhappy Aubri was found. Some time after, the dog accidentally met the assassin, who is styled, by all the historians that relate this fact, the Chevalier Macaire; when, instantly seizing him by the throat, he was with great difficulty compelled to quit his victim. In short, whenever the dog saw the chevalier, he continued to pursue and attack him with equal fury.

Such obstinate violence in the animal, confined only to Macaire, appeared very extraordinary—especially as several instances of Macaire's envy and hatred to Aubri de Mondidier had been conspicuous. Additional circumstances created suspicion, and at length the affair reached the royal ear. The king, Louis VIII., accordingly sent for the dog, which appeared extremely gentle till he perceived Macaire in the midst of several noblemen, when he ran fiercely towards him, growling at and attacking him, as usual. The king, struck with such a combination of circumstantial evidence against Macaire, determined to refer the decision to the chance of battle; in other words, he gave orders for a combat between the chevalier and the dog. The lists were appointed in the Isle of Notre Dame, then an unenclosed, uninhabited place, and Macaire was allowed, for his weapon, a great cudgel. An empty cask was given to the dog as a place of retreat, to enable him to recover breath. Every thing being prepared, the dog no sooner found himself at liberty, than he ran round his adversary, avoiding his blows, and menacing him on every side, till his strength was exhausted; then springing forward, he seized him by the throat, and threw him on the ground. Macaire now confessed his guilt in presence of the king and the whole court. In consequence of this, the chevalier, after a few days, was convicted upon his own acknowledgment, and beheaded on a scaffold in the Isle of Notre Dame.

The instances in which persons have been saved from drowning by the Newfoundland dog, are innumerable. The following anecdote is the more remarkable, as it does not appear that the affectionate animal was of that species. A young man belonging to the city of Paris, desirous of getting rid of his dog, took it along with him to the River Seine. He hired a boat, and, rowing into the stream, threw the animal in. The poor creature attempted to climb up the side of the boat, but his master, whose intention was to drown him, constantly pushed him back with the oar. In doing this, he fell himself into the water, and would certainly have been drowned, had not the dog, as soon as he saw his master struggling in the stream, suffered the boat to float away, and held him above the water till assistance arrived, and his life was saved.

Of the alertness of the dog in recovering the lost property of its master, we shall furnish a striking instance. M. Dumont, a tradesman of the Rue St. Denis, Paris, offered to lay a wager with a friend that, if he were to hide a six-livre piece in the dust, his dog would discover and bring it to him. The wager was accepted, and the piece of money secreted, after being carefully marked. When they had proceeded some distance from the spot, M. Dumont signified to his dog that he had lost something, and ordered him to seek it. Caniche immediately turned back, while his master and his companion pursued their walk to the Rue St. Denis.

Meanwhile a traveller, who happened to be just then returning in a small chaise from Vincennes, perceived the piece of money, which his horse had kicked from its hiding-place; he alighted, took it up, and drove to his inn in Rue Pont-aux-Choux, and Caniche had just reached the spot in search of the lost piece when the stranger picked it up. He followed the chaise, went into the inn, and stuck close to the traveller. Having scented out the coin, which he had been ordered to bring back, in the pocket of the latter, he leaped up incessantly at and about him. The gentleman, supposing him to be some dog that had been lost or left behind by his master, regarded his different movements as marks of fondness; and as the animal was handsome, he determined to keep him. He gave him a good supper, and, on retiring to bed, took him with him to his chamber. No sooner had he pulled off his breeches, than they were seized by the dog; the owner, conceiving he wanted to play with them, took them away again. The animal began to bark at the door, which the traveller opened, under the idea that he wanted to go out. Caniche instantly snatched up the breeches, and away he flew. The stranger posted after him with his night-cap on, and nearly sans culottes.

Anxiety for the fate of a purse full of double Napoleons, of forty francs each, which was in one of the pockets, gave redoubled velocity to his steps. Caniche ran full speed to his master's house, where the stranger arrived a moment afterwards, breathless and furious. He accused the dog of robbing him. "Sir," said the master, "my dog is a very faithful creature, and if he has run away with your breeches, it is because you have in them money which does not belong to you." The traveller became still more exasperated. "Compose yourself, sir," rejoined the other, smiling; "without doubt there is in your purse a six-livre piece with such and such marks, which you picked up in the Boulevard St. Antoine, and which I threw down there with a firm conviction that my dog would bring it back again. This is the cause of the robbery which he has committed upon you!" The stranger's rage now yielded to astonishment; he delivered the six-livre piece to the owner, and could not forbear caressing the dog which had given him so much uneasiness and such an unpleasant chase.

A shepherd on the Grampian Mountains, having left his child at the foot of the hill, was soon enveloped in mist; and, unable to return to the precise place, he could not discover the child. In vain he searched for it in the midst of the mist, not knowing whither he went; and when, at length, the moon shone clearly, he found himself at his cottage, and far from the hill. He searched in vain next day, with a band of shepherds. On returning to his cottage, he found that the dog, on receiving a piece of cake, had instantly gone off. He renewed the search for several days, and still the dog had disappeared, during his absence, taking with it a piece of cake. Struck with this circumstance, he remained at home one day, and when the dog, as usual, departed with his piece of cake, he resolved to follow him. The dog led the way to a cataract at some distance from the spot where the shepherd had left his child.

The banks of the waterfall almost joined at the top, yet, separated by an abyss of immense depth, presented that abrupt appearance which so often astonishes and appals the traveller amidst the Grampian Mountains. Down one of these rugged and almost perpendicular descents the dog began, without hesitation, to make his way, and at last disappeared in a cave, the mouth of which was almost upon a level with the torrent. The shepherd with difficulty followed; but, on entering the cave, what were his emotions when he beheld his infant eating, with much satisfaction, the cake which the dog had just brought him, while the faithful animal stood by, eyeing his young charge with the utmost complacence. From the situation in which the child was found, it appears that he had wandered to the brink of the precipice, and either fallen or scrambled down till he reached the cave, which the dread of the torrent had afterwards prevented him from leaving. The dog, by means of his scent, had traced him to the spot, and afterwards prevented him from starving by giving up to him his own daily allowance. He appears never to have quitted the child by night or day, except when it was necessary to go for its food, and then he was always seen running at full speed to and from the cottage.

The memory of the dog Gelert has been preserved by tradition, and celebrated in poetry. In the neighborhood of a village at the foot of Snowdon, a mountain in Wales, Llewellyn, son-in-law to King John, had a residence. The king, it is said, had presented him with one of the finest greyhounds in England, named Gelert. In the year 1205, Llewellyn one day, on going out to hunt, called all his dogs together; but his favorite greyhound was missing, and nowhere to be found. He blew his horn as a signal for the chase, and still Gelert came not. Llewellyn was much disconcerted at the heedlessness of his favorite, but at length pursued the chase without him. For want of Gelert the sport was limited; and, getting tired, he returned home at an early hour, when the first object that presented itself to him at the castle gate was Gelert, who bounded with the usual transport to meet his master, having his lips besmeared with blood. Llewellyn gazed with surprise at the unusual appearance of his dog.

On going into the apartment where he had left his infant son and heir asleep, he found the bed-clothes all in confusion, the cover rent and stained with blood. He called on his child, but no answer was made, from which he hastily concluded that the dog must have devoured him; and, giving vent to his rage, plunged his sword to the hilt in Gelert's side. The noble animal fell at his feet, uttering a dying yell which awoke the infant, who was sleeping beneath a mingled heap of the bed-clothes, while beneath the bed lay a great wolf covered with gore, whom the faithful and gallant hound had destroyed. Llewellyn, smitten with sorrow and remorse for the rash and frantic deed which had deprived him of so faithful an animal, caused an elegant marble monument, with an appropriate inscription, to be erected over the spot where Gelert was buried, to commemorate his fidelity and unhappy fate. The place to this day is called Beth-Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound.

"Here never could the spearman pass,

Or forester, unmoved;

Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass

Llewellyn's sorrow proved.

And here he hung his horn and spear,

And oft, as evening fell,

In fancy's piercing sounds would hear

Poor Gelert's dying yell."

The bull-dog would appear the least likely to combat with a heavy sea, and yet the following circumstances are well authenticated: On board a ship, which struck upon a rock near the shore, there were three dogs, two of the Newfoundland variety, and one a small but firmly-built English bull-dog. It was important to have a rope carried ashore, and it was thought that one of the Newfoundland dogs might succeed; but he was not able to struggle with the waves, and perished; and the other Newfoundland dog, being thrown over with the rope, shared the same fate. But the bull-dog, though not habituated to the water, swam triumphantly to land, and thus saved the lives of the persons on board. Among them was his master, a military officer, who still has the dog in his possession.

Among the instances of sagacity, mingled with an affection for its master, may be mentioned those cases in which the dog notices or detects thefts, and restores lost or stolen articles to its master. An acquaintance of Lord Fife's coachman had put a bridle belonging to the earl in his pocket, and would have abstracted it, had he not been stopped by a Highland cur, that observed him, barked at him, and absolutely bit his leg. This was unusual conduct in the dog; but the wonder of the servants ceased when they saw the end of the bridle peeping out of the visitor's pocket; and it being delivered up, the dog became quiet. It is well known that in London, the other year, a box, properly directed, was sent to a merchant's shop to lie there all night, and be shipped off with other goods next morning, and that a dog, which accidentally came into the shop with a customer, by his smelling it, and repeatedly barking in a peculiar way, led to the discovery that the box contained not goods, but a rogue who intended to admit his companions and plunder the shop in the night-time.

A man who frequented the Pont Neuf in Paris, and whose business it was to brush the boots of persons passing by, taught his dog, which was a poodle, to roll himself in the mud, and then brush by gentlemen so as to soil their boots. In this way, the animal largely contributed to support the trade of his master.

There were two friends—one living in London, the other at Guildford. These were on terms of the greatest intimacy, and for many years it had been the custom of the London family to pass the Christmas with the one at Guildford. Their usual practice was to arrive to dinner the day before, and they were always accompanied by a large spaniel, who was as great a favorite of the visited as of the visitors.

At the end of about seven years, the two families had an unfortunate misunderstanding, which occasioned an omission of the usual Christmas invitation. About an hour before dinner, the Guildford gentleman, who was standing at the window, exclaimed to his wife, "Well, my dear, the W.'s have thought better of it, for I declare they are coming as usual, although we did not invite them; for here comes Cæsar to announce them;" and the dog came trotting up to the door, and was admitted, as usual, into the parlor.

The lady of the house gave orders to prepare beds; dinner waited an hour; but no guests arrived. Cæsar, having staid the exact number of days to which he had been accustomed, set off for home, and reached it in safety. The correspondence which subsequently occurred had the happy effect of renewing the intercourse of the estranged friends; and as long as Cæsar lived, he paid the annual visit in company with his master and mistress.

A terrier, belonging to the Marchioness of Stafford, having lost a litter of puppies, was quite disconsolate, till, perceiving a brood of young ducks, she immediately seized them, and carried them to her lair, where she kept them, following them out and in, and nursing them in her own way with the most affectionate anxiety. When the ducklings, obeying their instinct, went into the water, their foster-mother exhibited the utmost alarm, and as soon as they returned to land, she snatched them up, one by one, in her mouth, and ran home with them.

The next year, the same animal, being again deprived of her puppies, seized two cock chickens, which she reared with infinite care. When they began to crow, their foster-mother was as much annoyed as she had been with the swimming of the young ducks, and never failed to repress their attempts at crowing.

A man engaged in smuggling lace into France from Flanders, trained an active and sagacious spaniel to aid him in his enterprise. He caused him to be shaved, and procured for him the skin of another dog of the same hair and the same shape. He then rolled the lace round the body of the dog, and put over it the other skin so adroitly that the trick could not be easily discovered. The lace being thus arranged, the smuggler would say to the docile messenger, "Homeward, my friend." At these words, the dog would start, and pass boldly through the gates of Malines and Valenciennes in the face of the vigilant officers placed there to prevent smuggling.

Having thus passed the bounds, he would await his master at a little distance in the open country. There they mutually caressed and feasted, and the merchant placed his rich package in a place of security, renewing his occupation as occasion required. Such was the success of this smuggler, that, in less than five years, he amassed a handsome fortune, and kept his coach.

Envy pursues the prosperous. A mischievous neighbor at length betrayed the lace merchant; notwithstanding all his efforts to disguise the dog, he was suspected, watched, and discovered. But the cunning of the dog was equal to the emergency. Did the spies of the custom-house expect him at one gate, he saw them at a distance, and ran to another; were all the gates shut against him, he overcame every obstacle; sometimes he leaped over the wall; at others, passing secretly behind a carriage, or running between the legs of travellers, he would thus accomplish his aim. One day, however, while swimming a stream near Malines, he was shot, and died in the water. There was then about him five thousand crowns' worth of lace—the loss of which did not afflict his master, but he was inconsolable for the loss of his faithful dog.

A dog belonging to a chamois-hunter, being on the glaciers in Switzerland, with an Englishman and his master, observed the former approaching one of the crevices in the ice, to look into it. He began to slide towards the edge; his guide, with a view to save him, caught his coat, and both slid onward, till the dog seized his master's clothes, and preserved them both from inevitable death.

Dogs have a capacity to act upon excitements of an artificial nature. A dog, in Paris, at the commencement of the revolution, was known to musicians by the name of Parade, because he regularly attended the military at the Tuileries, stood by and marched with the band. At night he went to the opera, and dined with any musician who intimated, by word or gesture, that his company was asked; yet always withdrew from any attempt to be made the property of any individual.

The Penny Magazine furnishes a still more singular instance of the desire of excitement, in a dog which, for several years, was always present at the fires in London. Some years ago, a gentleman residing a few miles from London, in Surrey, was roused in the middle of the night by the intelligence that the premises adjoining his house of business were on fire. The removal of his furniture and papers, of course, immediately called his attention; yet, notwithstanding this, and the bustle that is ever incident to a fire, his eye every now and then rested on a dog, whom, during the progress of the devouring element, he could not help noticing, running about, and apparently taking a deep interest in what was going on—contriving to keep himself out of every body's way, and yet always present amidst the thickest of the stir.

When the fire was got under, and the gentleman had leisure to look about him, he again observed the dog, who, with the firemen, appeared to be resting from the fatigues of duty, and was led to make inquiries respecting him. Stooping down, and patting the animal, he addressed a fireman near him, and asked him if the dog were his.

"No, sir," replied the man, "he does not belong to me, nor to any one in particular. We call him the firemen's dog."

"No, sir; he calls none of us master, though we are all of us willing to give him a night's lodging, and a pennyworth of meat; but he won't stay long with any of us. His delight is to be at all the fires of London, and, far or near, we generally find him on the road as we are going along; and sometimes, if it is out of town, we give him a lift. I don't think that there has been a fire for these two or three years past which he has not been at."

Three years after this conversation, the same gentleman was again called up in the night to a fire in the village where he resided, and, to his surprise, he again met "the firemen's dog," still alive and well, pursuing, with the same apparent interest and satisfaction, the exhibition of that which generally brings with it ruin and loss of life. Still he called no man master, disdained to receive bed or board from the same hand more than a night or two at a time, nor could the firemen trace out his ordinary resting-place.

To this long list, we might add many other anecdotes, in evidence of the varied powers of the canine family. We have endeavored to select those only which are well authenticated. Some of these are sufficiently marvellous, but there are many other well-attested accounts equally wonderful. Mr. Hogg seems to imagine that mankind are prepared to believe any thing in respect to dogs which partakes of the mysterious, and accordingly plays off the following quiet joke upon his readers:—

"It's a good sign of a dog when his face grows like his master's. It's proof he's aye glow'ring up in his master's e'en to discover what he's thinking on; and then, without the word or wave of command, to be aff to execute the wull o' his silent thocht, whether it be to wean sheep, or to run doon deer. Hector got so like me, afore he dee'd, that I remember, when I was owre lazy to gang to the kirk, I used to send him to take my place in the pew, and the minister never kent the difference. Indeed, he once asked me next day what I thocht of the sermon; for he saw me wonderfu' attentive amang a rather sleepy congregation.

"Hector and me gied ane anither sic a look! and I was feared Mr. Paton would have observed it; but he was a simple, primitive, unsuspecting old man—a very Nathaniel without guile, and he jaloused nothing; tho' both Hector and me was like to split; and the dog, after laughing in his sleeve for mair than a hundred yards, couldn't stand't nae longer, but was obliged to loup awa owre a hedge into a potato field, pretending to scent partridges."

This is a fierce and savage beast, resembling in form and size the Newfoundland dog. It hunts in packs, and attacks deer, sheep, and sometimes even man himself. When taken young, it may be tamed. It is found in the northern portions of both continents. In North America, there are several varieties.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—Mr. Cuvier gives an account of a wolf that had all the obedience and affection that any dog could evince. He was brought up by his master in the same manner as a puppy, and, when full grown, was sent to the menagerie at Paris. For many weeks, he was quite disconsolate at the separation from his master, refused to take food, and was indifferent to his keepers. At length he became attached to those about him, and seemed to have forgotten his old affections.

On his master's return, however, in a year and a half, the wolf heard his voice among the crowd in the gardens, and, being set at liberty, displayed the most violent joy. He was again separated from his friend; and again, his grief was as extreme as on the first occasion.

After three years' absence, his master once more returned. It was evening, and the wolf's den was shut up from any external observation; yet, the moment the man's voice was heard, the faithful animal set up the most anxious cries, and, on the door of his cage being opened, he rushed to his friend, leaped upon his shoulders, licked his face, and threatened to bite his keepers when they attempted to separate them. When the man again left him, he fell sick, and refused all food; and from the time of his recovery, which was long very doubtful, it was always dangerous for a stranger to approach him.

A story is told of a Scotch bagpiper, who was travelling in Ireland one evening, when he suddenly encountered a wolf who seemed to be very ravenous. The poor man could think of no other expedient to save his life, than to open his wallet, and try the effect of hospitality; he did so, and the savage beast swallowed all that was thrown to him with such voracity, that it seemed as if his appetite was not in the least degree satisfied.

The whole stock of provisions was of course soon spent, and now the man's only resource was in the virtues of his bagpipe; this the monster no sooner heard than he took to the mountains with the same precipitation with which he had left them. The poor piper did not wholly enjoy his deliverance; for, looking ruefully at his empty wallet, he shook his fist at the departing animal, saying, "Ay! Are these your tricks? Had I known your humor, you should have had your music before your supper."

In Sweden, frequent attacks are made upon the people by wolves, during the winter, as they are then often in a famishing condition. In one instance, a party of sixteen sledges were returning from a dance on a cold and starlight night. In the middle of the cavalcade was a sledge occupied by a lady; at the back of the vehicle sat the servant; and at her feet, on a bear skin, reposed her favorite lapdog. In passing through a wood, a large wolf suddenly sprang out, and, jumping into the sledge, seized the poor dog, and was out of sight before any steps could be taken for his rescue.

A Swedish peasant was one day crossing a large lake on his sledge, when he was attacked by a drove of wolves. This frightened the horse so much that he went off at full speed. There was a loose rope hanging from the back of the vehicle that had been used for binding hay; to the end of this a noose happened to be attached. Though this was not intended to catch a wolf, it fortunately effected that object; for one of the ferocious animals getting his feet entangled in it, he was immediately destroyed, owing to the rapidity with which the horse was proceeding.

The poor man at length reached a place of safety. Though he had been dreadfully frightened during the ride, he not only found himself much sooner at the end of his journey than he expected, but richer by the booty he had thus unexpectedly gained—the skin of a wolf in this country being worth about two dollars and a half.

A peasant in Russia was once pursued in his sledge by eleven wolves. Being about two miles from home, he urged his horse to the very extent of his speed. At the entrance to his residence was a gate, which being shut at the time, the frightened horse dashed open, and carried his master safely into the courtyard. Nine of the wolves followed them into the enclosure, when fortunately the gate swung back, and shut them all as it were in a trap. Finding themselves thus caught, the animals seemed to lose all their ferocity; and, as escape was impossible, slunk into holes and corners, molesting no one, and offering no resistance. They were all despatched without further difficulty.

The prairie wolf is said to be wonderfully cunning and sagacious. Instances have been known of his burrowing under ground to procure the bait from a trap, rather than run the chance of being caught above. Many and curious are the devices prepared to ensnare this animal, but very few have succeeded. This variety of wolf is common in the prairies of the western country, where it hunts deer by running them down. Sometimes a large number associate together, and, forming a crescent, creep slowly towards a herd of deer, so as not to alarm them. They then rush on with hideous yells, and drive the poor animals towards a precipice, seeming to know that, when they are once at full speed, they will all follow one another over the cliff. The wolves then descend at leisure, and feed upon their slaughtered victims.

A farmer in France, one day looking through the hedge in his garden, observed a wolf walking round a mule, but unable to get at him on account of the mule's constantly kicking with his hind legs. As the farmer perceived that the beast was so well able to defend himself, he did not interfere. After the attack and defence had lasted a quarter of an hour, the wolf ran off to a neighboring ditch, where he several times plunged into the water.

The farmer imagined that he did this to refresh himself after the fatigue he had sustained, and had no doubt that his mule had gained a complete victory; but in a few minutes the wolf returned to the charge, and, approaching as near as he could to the head of the mule, shook himself, and spouted a quantity of water into the animal's eyes, which caused him immediately to shut them. That moment, the wolf leaped upon him, and killed the poor animal before the farmer could come to his assistance.

In the commencement of the reign of Louis XIV., of France, in the depth of winter, a party of dragoons were attacked, at the foot of the mountains of Jurat, by a multitude of wolves; the dragoons fought bravely, and killed many hundreds of them; but at last, overpowered by numbers, they and their horses were all devoured. A cross is erected on the place of combat, with an inscription in commemoration of it, which is to be seen at this day.

This animal, which resembles a small dog, is widely distributed over the colder portions of both continents. There are several species, as the red, gray, black, silver, arctic, &c. In all ages and countries, the fox has been remarkable for his cunning, and, from the time of Æsop to the present day, has figured, in allegory and fable, as the personification of artifice and duplicity.

Fruitless Enterprise.—A fox finding himself hard run by the hounds, at a hunt in Ireland, ran up a stone wall, from which he sprang on the roof of an adjoining cabin, and mounted up to the chimney-top. From that elevated station, he looked all around him, as if reconnoitring the coming enemy. A wily old hound approaching, and having gained the roof, was preparing to seize the fox, when, lo! renard dropped suddenly down the chimney. The dog looked wistfully down the dark opening, but dared not pursue the fugitive.

Meanwhile renard, half enrobed in soot, had fallen into the lap of an old woman, who, surrounded by a number of children, was gravely smoking her pipe, not at all expecting the entrance of this abrupt visitor. "Emiladh deouil!" said the affrighted female, as she threw from her the red and black quadruped. Renard grinned, growled, and showed his fangs; and when the huntsmen, who had secured the door, entered, they found him in quiet possession of the kitchen, the old woman and children having retired, in terror of the invader, to an obscure corner of the room. The fox was taken alive without much difficulty.

Unavailing Artifice.—Two gentlemen in New Jersey went out to hunt rabbits. In a low, bushy swamp, the dogs started a fox, and off they went in swift pursuit. After a chase of two miles, he entered a very dense thicket, and, making a circuit of the place, returned to the point whence he first started. The dogs closely pursuing the fox, he again started for the thicket, when one of the sportsmen shot at him, and he fell apparently dead at his feet. As he stooped to pick him up, however, he rose upon his legs and escaped. For two hours and a half, the thicket was the scene of the wiles of renard; but at last he was taken, and, being carried home by the men, was thrown, apparently quite dead, into the corner of the room.

The family sat down to supper. Finding them all busily engaged, he ventured to reconnoitre, and had cautiously raised himself on his fore legs for the purpose, but, on finding himself observed, resumed his quiescent state. One of the party, to ascertain whether the fox was alive or not, passed a piece of lighted paper under his nose; but the inanimate stone or log appeared not more senseless at that moment. Finding all attempts to get away unavailing, renard submitted to his destiny with a very good grace, and the next morning was as well as ever, bating a slight wound in the shoulder and a dirty skin.

Unexpected Resentment.—Some country people in Germany once caught a pike, but in conveying it home during the night, it escaped. As it was a large fish, they returned with torches to secure their prize, and after some time found it on the grass, having fast hold of a fox by the nose. The animal caught in this novel trap made every effort to escape, without success; and it was not until the pike was killed, that it was possible to separate them. It seems that, after the pike was dropped by the fisherman, renard came across it, and in paying his addresses to it, was received in the manner we have described.

This animal, which is the size of a large dog, belongs to Africa. It is very ferocious, feeds on flesh, and prefers that which is in a state of decay. It seems, with the vulture, to be a scavenger to remove masses of putrid flesh, which, in these hot regions, would otherwise breed infection and disease.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—Bruce, in his "Travels in Africa," gives us the following account of the hyena:—

"One night, being very busily engaged in my tent, I heard something pass behind me towards the bed, but, upon looking round, could perceive nothing. Having finished what I was about, I went out, resolving directly to return, which I did. I now perceived a pair of large blue eyes glaring at me in the dark. I called to my servant to bring a light, and there stood a hyena, near the head of my bed, with two or three large bunches of candles in his mouth. As his mouth was full, I was not afraid of him; so, with my pike, I struck him as near the heart as I could judge. It was not till then that he showed any signs of fierceness; but, feeling his wound, he let the candles drop, and endeavored to climb up the handle of the spear, to arrive at me; so that, in self-defence, I was obliged to draw a pistol from my girdle, and shoot him; nearly at the same time, my servant cleft his skull with a battle-axe.

"The hyena appears to be senseless and stupid during the day. I have locked up with him a goat, a kid, and a lamb, all day, when he was fasting, and found them in the evening alive and unhurt. Repeating the experiment one night, he ate up a young ass, a goat, and a fox, all before morning, so as to leave nothing but some small fragments of the ass's bones."

Sparman furnishes us with the following story:—"One night, at a feast near the Cape, a trumpeter, who had got himself well filled with liquor, was carried out of doors in order to cool and sober him. The scent of him soon attracted a spotted hyena, which threw him on his back, and carried him away to Sable Mountain, thinking him a corpse, and consequently a fair prize.

"In the mean time, our drunken musician awoke, sufficiently sensible to know the danger of his situation, and to sound his alarm with his trumpet, which he carried at his side. The beast, as it may be imagined, was greatly frightened, in its turn, and immediately ran away."

This animal stands at the head of the numerous family of cats, and has often been ranked by naturalists as the lord of the brute creation, and holding the same relation to quadrupeds as the eagle does to birds.

Like all the rest of his genus, the lion steals upon his prey, and, when at a proper distance, rushes upon it with a bound, securing it in his sharp claws. In general he is cowardly; but, in pursuit of his prey, he is, to the last degree, fearless and ferocious. His strength is so great that he can break a man's skull with the stroke of his paw, and can drag the body of a cow over the ground at a gallop. His roar is terrific, and when heard, the animals around seem agitated with the wildest terror. The lion is common in the hot parts of Africa, and is occasionally found in India.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—Some Hottentots once perceived a lion dragging a buffalo from the plain to a neighboring woody hill. They soon forced him to quit his prey, in order to secure it for themselves. They now found that the lion had had the sagacity to take out those inner parts of the buffalo that it rejected as food, in order to make it easier to carry away the fleshy and eatable parts of the carcass, thus showing reflection on his part.

It is probable that the lion does not easily venture upon any one who puts himself in a posture of defence. The following anecdote would seem to show that this is the case. A young man was walking one day on his lands in the southern parts of Africa, when he unexpectedly met a large lion. Being an excellent shot, he thought himself sure of killing him, and therefore fired. But unfortunately, the charge had been in the piece for some time, and the ball fell before it reached the animal. The young man, seized with panic, now took to his heels; but being soon out of breath, and closely pursued by the lion, he jumped upon a little heap of stones, and there made a stand, presenting the butt-end of his gun to his adversary, fully resolved to defend his life as well as he could.

This movement had such an effect upon the lion, that he likewise came to a stand; and what was still more singular, laid himself down at some paces' distance from the stones, seemingly quite unconcerned. The sportsman, in the mean while, did not dare to stir a step from the spot; besides, in his flight, he had lost his powder-horn. At length, after waiting a good half hour, the lion rose up, and retreated slowly, step by step, as if it had a mind to steal off; but as soon as it got to a greater distance, it began to bound away with great rapidity.

It is related that Geoffrey de la Tour, one of the knights that went upon the first crusade to the Holy Land, heard, one day, as he rode through a forest, a cry of distress. Hoping to rescue some unfortunate sufferer, the knight rode boldly into the thicket; but what was his astonishment, when he beheld a large lion, with a serpent coiled round his body! To relieve the distressed was the duty of every knight; therefore, with a single stroke of the sword, and regardless of the consequences to himself, he killed the serpent, and extricated the tremendous animal from his perilous situation.

From that hour the grateful creature constantly accompanied his deliverer, whom he followed like a dog, and never displayed his natural ferocity but at his command. At length, the crusade being terminated, Sir Geoffrey prepared to set sail for Europe. He wished to take the lion with him; but the master of the ship was unwilling to admit him on board, and the knight was, therefore, obliged to leave him on the shore. The lion, when he saw himself separated from his beloved master, first began to roar hideously; then, seeing the ship moving off, he plunged into the waves, and endeavored to swim after it. But all his efforts were in vain; and at length, his strength being exhausted, he sank, and the ocean ingulfed the noble animal, whose unshaken fidelity deserved a better fate.

Some years since there was, in a menagerie at Cassel, in Germany, a large lion, whose keeper was a woman, to whom the animal seemed most affectionately attached. In order to amuse the company, this woman was in the habit of putting her hands, and even her head, into the lion's mouth, without experiencing the least injury. Upon one occasion, however, having introduced her head, as usual, between the animal's jaws, he made a sudden snap, and killed her on the spot.

Undoubtedly, this catastrophe was unintentional on the part of the lion; probably the hair of the woman's head irritated his throat, so as to make him sneeze or cough. This supposition is confirmed by the subsequent conduct of the animal; for as soon as he perceived that he had killed his attendant, the good-tempered, grateful creature exhibited the signs of the deepest melancholy, laid himself down by the side of the dead body, which he would not suffer to be removed, refused to take any food, and, in a few days, pined himself to death.

A remarkable instance of docility in a lion once took place in the menagerie at Chester, in England. A strange keeper, having fed a magnificent lion one evening, neglected to fasten the door of the den. The watchman, when going his rounds about three the next morning, discovered the king of beasts deliberately walking about the yard, and surveying the objects with apparent curiosity. The watchman went to call the proprietors, and when they arrived they found the lion couchant upon the top of one of the coaches in the yard. With very little entreaty, the monarch of the forest deigned to descend from his throne, and very graciously followed a young lady, the proprietor's daughter, back to his den.

Some time ago, for the purpose of seeing the manner in which the lion pounces upon his prey, a little dog was, most cruelly, thrown into the den of one of these animals in the Tower Menagerie. The poor little animal skulked, in terror, to the most remote corner of the lion's apartment, who, regarding him with complacency, refrained from approaching him. The little trembler, seeing the lion's mildness, ventured to draw near him; and soon becoming familiar, they lived together thenceforward in the most perfect harmony; and, although the little dog had sometimes the temerity to dispute his share of food with the king of the beasts, yet he magnanimously allowed him to satisfy his appetite before he thought of making a meal himself.

A lioness in the Tower of London once formed such an attachment for a little dog which was kept with her in the den, that she would not eat till the dog was first satisfied. After the lioness had become a mother, it was thought advisable to take the animal away, for fear that her jealous fondness for her whelps might lead her to injure it. But while the keeper was cleaning the den, the dog, by some means, got into it, and approached the lioness with his wonted fondness. She was playing with her cubs; and, seeing the dog approach, she sprang towards him, and, seizing the poor little animal by the throat, seemed in the act of tearing him to pieces; but as if she momentarily recollected her former fondness for him, she carried him to the door of the den, and suffered him to be taken out unhurt.

To the traveller in Africa, the lion is formidable not at night only; he lies in his path, and is with difficulty disturbed, to allow a passage for his wagons and cattle, even when the sun is shining with its utmost brilliancy; or he is roused from some bushy place, on the roadside, by the indefatigable dogs which always accompany a caravan. Mr. Burchell has described, with great spirit, an encounter of this nature:—

"The day was exceedingly pleasant, and not a cloud was to be seen. For a mile or two we travelled along the banks of the river, which in this part abounded in tall mat-rushes. The dogs seemed much to enjoy prowling about, and examining every bushy place, and at last met with some object among the rushes which caused them to set up a most vehement and determined barking. We explored the spot with caution, as we suspected, from the peculiar tone of their bark, that it was, what it proved to be, lions. Having encouraged the dogs to drive them out, a task which they performed with great willingness, we had a full view of an enormous black-maned lion and lioness. The latter was seen only for a minute, as she made her escape up the river, under concealment of the rushes; but the lion came steadily forward, and stood still to look at us. At this moment we felt our situation not free from danger, as the animal seemed preparing to spring upon us, and we were standing on the bank at the distance of only a few yards from him, most of us being on foot and unarmed, without any visible possibility of escaping.

"I had given up my horse to the hunters, and was on foot myself; but there was no time for fear, and it was useless to attempt avoiding him. I stood well upon my guard, holding my pistols in my hand, with my finger upon the trigger; and those who had muskets kept themselves prepared in the same manner. But at this instant the dogs boldly flew in between us and the lion, and, surrounding him, kept him at bay by their violent and resolute barking. The courage of these faithful animals was most admirable; they advanced up to the side of the huge beast, and stood making the greatest clamor in his face, without the least appearance of fear. The lion, conscious of his strength, remained unmoved at their noisy attempts, and kept his head turned towards us. At one moment, the dogs, perceiving his eyes thus engaged, had advanced close to his feet, and seemed as if they would actually seize hold of him; but they paid dearly for their imprudence; for, without discomposing the majestic and steady attitude in which he stood fixed, he merely moved his paw, and at the next instant I beheld two lying dead. In doing this, he made so little exertion, that it was scarcely perceptible by what means they had been killed. Of the time which we had gained by the interference of the dogs, not a moment was lost. We fired upon him; one of the balls went through his side just between the short ribs, and the blood immediately began to flow; but the animal still remained standing in the same position. We had now no doubt that he would spring upon us; every gun was instantly reloaded; but happily we were mistaken, and were not sorry to see him move quietly away; though I had hoped in a few minutes to have been enabled to take hold of his paw without danger.

"This was considered, by our party, to be a lion of the largest size, and seemed, as I measured him by comparison with the dogs, to be, though less bulky, as heavy as an ox. He was certainly as long in body, though lower in stature; and his copious mane gave him a truly formidable appearance. He was of that variety which the Hottentots and boors distinguish by the name of the black lion, on account of the blacker color of the mane, and which is said to be always larger and more dangerous than the other, which they call the pale lion. Of the courage of a lion I have no very high opinion; but of his majestic air and movements, as exhibited by this animal, while at liberty in his native plains, I can bear testimony. Notwithstanding the pain of a wound, of which he must soon afterwards have died, he moved slowly away, with a stately and measured step."

This animal, of which there is but one species, is found in the southern parts of Asia, and the adjacent islands. It is inferior only to the lion in strength, size, and courage. The body is long, the legs rather short, the eyes glassy, and the countenance haggard, savage, and ferocious. It has strength to seize a man and carry him off at full gallop, and its ferocity leads it to slay beyond its desire for food. In contrast to these hideous qualities, its skin is marked with a singular beauty, being of a fawn color, splendidly striped downward with black bands. Its step resembles that of a cat. When taken young, and kindly treated, it grows familiar, and exhibits gentleness and affection towards its keeper.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—Of the muscular powers of the tiger we have the following illustration: A buffalo, belonging to a peasant in the East Indies, having fallen into a quagmire, the man was himself unable to extricate it, and went to call the assistance of his neighbors. Meanwhile, a large tiger, coming to the spot, seized upon the buffalo, and dragged him out. When the men came to the place, they saw the tiger, with the buffalo thrown over his shoulder, in the act of retiring with him towards the jungle. No sooner, however, did he observe the men, than he let fall the dead animal, and precipitately escaped. On coming up, they found the buffalo quite dead, and his whole blood sucked out. Some idea may be gained of the immense power of the tiger, when it is mentioned that the ordinary weight of a buffalo is above a thousand pounds, and consequently considerably more than double its own weight.

The effect of feeding the tiger upon raw flesh, is shown by the following anecdote: A party of gentlemen, from Bombay, found, one day, in a cavern, a tiger's whelp, which was hidden in an obscure corner. Snatching it up hastily, they cautiously retreated. Being left entirely at liberty, and well fed, the tiger became tame, like the dog, grew rapidly, and appeared entirely domesticated. At length it attained a great size, and began to inspire terror by its tremendous strength and power, notwithstanding its gentleness. Up to this moment, it had been studiously kept from raw meat. But, unfortunately, during its rambles, a piece of flesh dripping with blood fell in its way. The instant it had tasted it, something like madness seemed to seize the animal; a destructive principle, hitherto dormant, was kindled: it darted fiercely, and with glowing eyes, upon its prey—tore it with fury to pieces, and, growling and roaring in the most frightful manner, rushed off, and disappeared in the jungle.

Tigers are sometimes very cunning. One of them was kept at a French factory, at Silsceri, which was secured by a strong chain. This animal used to scatter a portion of the rice that was set before him as far round the front of his den as possible. This enticed the poultry to come and pick it up. The tiger pretended to be asleep, in order to induce them to approach nearer, when he suddenly sprang upon them, and seldom failed to make several of them his prey.

This animal is susceptible of strong attachments. An instance of this is recorded of a tigress of great beauty in the Tower at London. She was extremely docile in her passage home from Calcutta, was allowed to run about the vessel, and became exceedingly familiar with the sailors. On her arrival in London, however, her temper became irascible, and even dangerous, and she exhibited for some days a savage and sulky disposition.

Shortly after, a sailor, who had had charge of her on board the ship, came to the Tower, and begged permission to enter her den. No sooner did she recognize her old friend, than she fawned upon him, licked and caressed him, exhibiting the most extravagant signs of pleasure; and, when he left her, she whined and cried the whole day afterwards. In time, however, she became reconciled to her new keeper and residence.

Some years ago, a tame tiger was led about Madras by some of the natives, without any other restraint than a muzzle, and a small chain round his neck. The men lived by exhibiting, to the curious, the tiger's method of seizing his prey. The manner in which they showed this, was by fastening a sheep to a stake driven into the earth. The tiger was no sooner brought in sight of it than he crouched, and moved along the ground on his belly, slowly and cautiously, till he came within the limits of a bound, when he sprang upon the sheep with the rapidity of an arrow, and struck it dead in an instant.

Although the tigress sometimes destroys her young ones, she generally shows much anxiety for them. Two cubs were once discovered by some villagers, in India, while their mother was in quest of prey, and presented by them to a gentleman, who had them put in his stable. The creatures made piteous howlings every night, which at last reached the ears of the mother. She came to the spot, and answered their cries by hideous howlings, which so alarmed their keeper that he let the cubs loose, for fear the dam would break the door of the stable. Nothing was seen of them the next morning; the tigress had carried them both off into the jungle.

The tiger is often hunted in India, and frequently the sportsmen are mounted upon elephants. Sometimes the animal is shot, and occasionally he is trodden to death, or laid prostrate on the earth, by the tramp of the elephant. Numerous anecdotes are told of these rencounters, all tending to show the fierce and formidable character of the tiger. It is much more active and ferocious than the lion, and is also more dangerous to the inhabitants who live in the vicinity of its retreats.

This animal, which is a native of Northern Africa, is smaller than the tiger, but it possesses the same ferocious disposition. It preys upon every animal it can master, and man himself sometimes falls a victim to its rapacity. Its color is fawn, spotted with black.

A tame Panther.—Notwithstanding the savage character and habits of this animal, Mr. Bowditch, who resided at Coomassie, in Western Africa, gives us an interesting account of one that he tamed. When he was about a year old, he was taken to Cape Coast, being led through the country by a chain. When he arrived, he was placed in a court, where he became quite familiar with those around him, laying his paws upon their shoulders, and rubbing his head upon them. By degrees all fear of him subsided, and he was allowed to go at liberty within the gates of the castle, having a small boy for a keeper. On one occasion, Sai, as the panther was called, finding the lad sitting upright on the step fast asleep, lifted his paw, and gave him a blow on the side of the head, which knocked him down, and then stood wagging his tail, as if enjoying the mischief he had done.

On another occasion, as an old woman was sweeping the hall with a short broom, which brought her nearly down upon all fours, Sai, who was hidden under the sofa, suddenly leaped upon her back, where he stood in triumph. She screamed violently, and all her fellow-servants scampered away in terror; nor was she released till the governor himself came to her assistance.

After the departure of Mr. Bowditch from the castle, the ship in which he had embarked lay at anchor some weeks in the River Gaboon: while here, an orangoutang was brought on board, and the rage of the panther, who had accompanied his master, was indescribable. His back rose in an arch, his tail was elevated and perfectly stiff, his eyes flashed, and if he had not been restrained, he would have torn the ape in pieces. At the same time, the orang showed the greatest fear and terror.

After sailing to England, the change of climate seemed to affect Sai, and medicine was given him in the shape of pills. These had the desired effect. On reaching the London Docks, he was taken ashore, and presented to the Duchess of York, who had him placed in Exeter 'Change. Here he remained for some weeks, apparently in good health; but he was taken suddenly ill, and died of an inflammation on the lungs.

This animal is more slender and graceful than the panther, yet it has all the savage qualities of the feline race. Its skin is exceedingly beautiful, being of a light fawn, marked with black spots. Nothing can surpass the ease, grace, and agility, of its movements.

Hunting the Leopard.—Two boors in Southern Africa, in the year 1822, returning from hunting the hartebeest, fell in with a leopard in a mountain ravine, and immediately gave chase to him. The animal at first endeavored to escape, by clambering up a precipice; but, being hotly pressed, and slightly wounded by a musket-ball, he turned upon his pursuers, with that frantic ferocity which, on such emergencies, he frequently displays: springing upon the man who had fired at him, he tore him from his horse to the ground, biting him, at the same time, very severely on the shoulder, and tearing his face and arms with his claws. The other hunter, seeing the danger of his comrade, sprang from his horse, and attempted to shoot the leopard through the head; but, whether owing to trepidation, the fear of wounding his friend, or the sudden motions of the animal, he unfortunately missed his aim. The leopard, abandoning his prostrate enemy, darted with redoubled fury upon this second antagonist; and so fierce and sudden was his onset, that, before the boor could stab him with his hunting-knife, he struck him in the eyes with his claws, and had torn the scalp over his forehead. In this frightful condition, the hunter grappled with the raging beast, and, struggling for life, they rolled together down a steep declivity. All this passed so rapidly that the other man had scarcely time to recover from the confusion into which his feline foe had thrown him, to seize his gun, and rush forward to aid his comrade—when he beheld them rolling together down the steep bank, in mortal conflict. In a few moments he was at the bottom with them, but too late to save the life of his friend, who had so gallantly defended him. The leopard had torn open the jugular vein, and so dreadfully mangled the throat of the unfortunate man, that his death was inevitable; and his comrade had only the melancholy satisfaction of completing the destruction of the savage beast, which was already much exhausted by several deep wounds in the breast, from the desperate knife of the expiring huntsman.

Captive Leopards.—Mr. Brown gives us the following account: "There are at present in the Tower a pair of these animals, from Asia, confined in the same den. The female is very tame, and gentle in her temper, and will allow herself to be patted and caressed by the keepers, while she licks their hands, and purrs. She, however, has one peculiarity—that she cannot bear many of the appendages which visitors bring with them to the menagerie. She has a particular predilection for the destruction of parasols, umbrellas, muffs, and hats, which she frequently contrives to lay hold of before the unwary spectator can prevent it, and tears them to pieces in an instant. She has been five years in the Tower, during which time she has seized and destroyed several hundreds of these articles, as well as other parts of ladies' dress. While this creature is in a playful mood, she bounds about her cell with the quickness of thought, touching the four sides of it nearly at one and the same instant. So rapid are her motions, that she can scarcely be followed by the eye; and she will even skim along the ceiling of her apartment with the same amazing rapidity, evincing great pliability of form and wonderful muscular powers. The male has been about two years in the Tower, and is only beginning to suffer familiarities; but he seems jealous of the slightest approach. He is larger than the female, the color of his skin more highly toned, and the spotting more intensely black."

This animal is confined to South America, where it is frequently called a tiger. It greatly resembles the panther of Africa in size, appearance, and habits. It inhabits thick forests, and sometimes destroys cows and horses. It also feeds on fish, which it entices to the surface by its spittle, and then knocks them out of the water with its paw.

The Jaguar's Cave.—From the numerous anecdotes in relation to this animal, we select the following interesting account communicated to the Edinburgh Literary Journal: "On leaving the Indian village, we continued to wind round Chimborazo's wide base; but its snow-crowned head no longer shone above us in clear brilliancy, for a dense fog was gathering gradually around it. Our guides looked anxiously towards it, and announced their apprehensions of a violent storm. We soon found that their fears were well founded. The thunder began to roll, and resounded through the mountainous passes with the most terrific grandeur. Then came the vivid lightning; flash following flash—above, around, beneath—every where a sea of fire. We sought a momentary shelter in the cleft of the rocks, whilst one of our guides hastened forward to seek a more secure asylum. In a short time he returned and informed us that he had discovered a spacious cavern, which would afford us sufficient protection from the elements. We proceeded thither immediately, and with great difficulty, and some danger, at last got into it.

"When the storm had somewhat abated, our guides ventured out, to ascertain if it were possible to continue our journey. The cave in which we had taken refuge was so extremely dark, that, if we moved a few paces from the entrance, we could not see an inch before us; and we were debating as to the propriety of leaving it, even before the Indians came back, when we suddenly heard a singular groaning or growling, in the farther end of the cavern, which instantly fixed all our attention. Wharton and myself listened anxiously; but our inconsiderate young friend Lincoln, together with my huntsman, crept about on their hands and knees, and endeavored to discover, by groping, whence the sound proceeded.

"They had not advanced far into the cavern, before we heard them utter an exclamation of surprise; and they returned to us, each carrying in his arms an animal singularly marked, about the size of a cat, seemingly of great strength and power, and furnished with immense fangs. The eyes were of a green color; strong claws were upon their feet; and a blood-red tongue hung out of their mouths. Wharton had scarcely glanced at them, when he exclaimed in consternation, 'We have come into the den of a ——' He was interrupted by a fearful cry of dismay from our guides, who came rushing precipitately towards us, calling out, 'A tiger, a tiger!' and, at the same time, with extraordinary rapidity, they climbed up a cedar-tree which stood at the entrance of the cave, and hid themselves among the branches.

"After the first sensation of horror and surprise, which rendered me motionless for a moment, had subsided, I grasped my fire-arms. Wharton had already regained his composure and self-possession; and he called to us to assist in blocking up the mouth of the cave with an immense stone which fortunately lay near it. The sense of imminent danger augmented our strength; for we now distinctly heard the growl of the ferocious animal, and we were lost, beyond redemption, if he reached the entrance before we could get it closed. Ere this was done, we could distinctly see the tiger bounding towards the spot, and stooping in order to creep into his den by the narrow opening. At this fearful moment, our exertions were successful, and the great stone kept the wild beast at bay.

"There was a small, open space, however, left between the top of the entrance and the stone, through which we could see the head of the animal, illuminated by his glowing eyes, which he rolled, glaring with fury, upon us. His frightful roaring, too, penetrated to the depths of the cavern, and was answered by the hoarse growling of the cubs. Our ferocious enemy attempted first to remove the stone with his powerful claws, and then to push it with his head from its place; and these efforts proving abortive, served only to increase his wrath. He uttered a tremendous, heart-piercing growl, and his flaming eyes darted light into the darkness of our retreat.

"'Now is the time to fire at him,' said Wharton, with his usual calmness. 'Aim at his eyes; the ball will go through his brain, and we shall then have a chance to get rid of him.'

"Frank seized his double-barrelled gun, and Lincoln his pistols. The former placed the muzzle within a few inches of the tiger, and Lincoln did the same. At Wharton's command, they both drew their triggers at the same moment; but no shot followed. The tiger, who seemed aware that the flash indicated an attack upon him, sprang growling from the entrance, but, finding himself unhurt, immediately turned back, and stationed himself in his former place. The powder in both pieces was wet.

"'All is now over,' said Wharton. 'We have only now to choose whether we shall die of hunger, together with these animals who are shut up along with us, or open the entrance to the bloodthirsty monster without, and so make a quicker end of the matter.'

"So saying, he placed himself close beside the stone, which for the moment defended us, and looked undauntedly upon the lightning eyes of the tiger. Lincoln raved, and Frank took a piece of strong cord from his pocket, and hastened to the farther end of the cave I knew not with what design. We soon, however, heard a low, stifled groaning; the tiger, which had heard it also, became more restless and disturbed than ever. He went backwards and forwards, before the entrance of the cave, in the most wild and impetuous manner; then stood still, and, stretching out his neck towards the forest, broke forth into a deafening howl.

"Our two Indian guides took advantage of this opportunity to discharge several arrows from the tree; but the light weapons bounded back harmless from his thick skin. At length, however, one of them struck him near the eye, and the arrow remained sticking in the wound. He now broke anew into the wildest fury, sprang at the tree, and tore it with his claws, as if he would have dragged it to the ground. But having at length succeeded in getting rid of the arrow, he became more calm, and laid himself down, as before, in front of the cave.

"Frank now returned from the lower end of the den, and a glance showed us what he had been doing. In each hand, and dangling from the end of a string, were the two cubs. He had strangled them, and, before we were aware what he intended, he threw them, through the opening, to the tiger. No sooner did the animal perceive them, than he gazed earnestly upon them, and began to examine them closely, turning them cautiously from side to side. As soon as he became aware that they were dead, he uttered so piercing a howl of sorrow, that we were obliged to put our hands to our ears.

"The thunder had now ceased, and the storm had sunk to a gentle gale; the songs of the birds were again heard in the neighboring forest, and the sunbeams sparkled in the drops that hung from the leaves. We saw, through the aperture, how all nature was reviving, after the wild war of elements which had so recently taken place; but the contrast only made our situation the more horrible. The tiger had laid himself down beside his whelps. He was a beautiful animal, of great size and strength; and his limbs, being stretched out at their full length, displayed his immense power of muscle. A double row of great teeth stood far enough apart to show his large red tongue, from which the white foam fell in large drops.

"All at once, another roar was heard at a distance, and the tiger immediately rose, and answered it with a mournful howl. At the same instant, our Indians uttered a shriek, which announced that some new danger threatened us. A few moments confirmed our worst fears; for another tiger, not quite so large as the former, came rapidly towards the spot where we were.

"The howls which the tigress gave, when she had examined the bodies of her cubs, surpassed every thing of horrible that we had yet heard; and the tiger mingled his mournful cries with hers. Suddenly her roaring was lowered to a hoarse growling, and we saw her anxiously stretch out her head, extend her wide and smoking nostrils, and look as if she were determined to discover immediately the murderers of her young. Her eyes quickly fell upon us, and she made a spring forward, with the intention of penetrating our place of refuge. Perhaps she might have been enabled, by her immense strength, to push away the stone, had we not, with all our united power, held it against her.

"When she found that all her efforts were fruitless, she approached the tiger, who lay stretched out beside his cubs, and he rose and joined in her hollow roarings. They stood together for a few moments, as if in consultation, and then suddenly went off at a rapid pace, and disappeared from our sight. Their howlings died away in the distance, and then entirely ceased.

"Our Indians descended from their tree, and called upon us to seize the only possibility of yet saving ourselves, by instant flight, for that the tigers had only gone round the height to seek another inlet into the cave, with which they were, no doubt, acquainted. In the greatest haste the stone was pushed aside, and we stepped forth from what we had considered a living grave. We now heard once more the roaring of the tigress, though at a distance, and, following the example of our guides, we precipitately struck into a side path. From the number of roots and branches of trees, with which the storm had strewed our way, and the slipperiness of the road, our flight was slow and difficult.

"We had proceeded thus for about a quarter of an hour, when we found that our way led along a rocky cliff, with innumerable fissures. We had just entered upon it, when suddenly the Indians, who were before us, uttered one of their piercing shrieks, and we immediately became aware that the tigers were in pursuit of us. Urged by despair, we rushed towards one of the breaks or gulfs in our way, over which was thrown a bridge of reeds, that sprang up and down at every step, and could be trod with safety by the light foot of the Indians alone. Deep in the hollow below rushed an impetuous stream, and a thousand pointed and jagged rocks threatened destruction on every side.

"Lincoln, my huntsman, and myself, passed over the chasm in safety; but Wharton was still in the middle of the waving bridge, and endeavoring to steady himself, when both the tigers were seen to issue from the adjoining forest; and the moment they descried us, they bounded towards us with dreadful roarings. Meanwhile, Wharton had nearly gained the safe side of the gulf, and we were all clambering up the rocky cliff, except Lincoln, who remained at the reedy bridge, to assist his friend to step upon firm ground. Wharton, though the ferocious animals were close upon him, never lost his courage or presence of mind. As soon as he had gained the edge of the cliff, he knelt down, and, with his sword, divided the fastenings by which the bridge was attached to the rock.

"He expected that an effectual barrier would thus be put to the farther progress of our pursuers; but he was mistaken; for he had scarcely accomplished his task when the tigress, without a moment's pause, rushed towards the chasm, and attempted to bound over it. It was a fearful sight to see the mighty animal suspended for a moment in the air, above the abyss; but the scene passed like a flash of lightning. Her strength was not equal to the distance; she fell into the gulf, and, before she reached the bottom, was torn into a thousand pieces by the jagged points of the rocks.

"Her fate did not in the least dismay her companion. He followed her with an immense spring, and reached the opposite side, but only with his fore claws; and thus he clung to the edge of the precipice, endeavoring to gain a footing. The Indians again uttered a wild shriek, as if all hope had been lost.

"But Wharton, who was nearest the edge of the rock, advanced courageously towards the tiger, and struck his sword into the animal's breast. Enraged beyond all measure, the wild beast collected all his strength, and, with a violent effort, fixing one of his hind legs upon the cliff, he seized Wharton by the thigh. The heroic man still preserved his fortitude. He grasped the trunk of a tree with his left hand, to steady and support himself, while, with his right hand, he wrenched and violently turned the sword, that was still in the breast of the tiger. All this was the work of an instant. The Indians, Frank, and myself, hastened to his assistance; but Lincoln, who was already at his side, had seized Wharton's gun, which lay near upon the ground, and struck so powerful a blow with the butt-end upon the head of the tiger, that the animal, stunned and overpowered, let go his hold, and fell back into the abyss."

This animal, which belongs to North and South America, passes under the various titles of cougar, puma, and panther. The latter is its most common designation. It is about the size of the European panther, but is of a uniform reddish-brown color. It was once common throughout the United States, but it has retired from the more thickly-settled portions to the remote forests of the country. It generally flies from man, but occasions have frequently occurred in which persons have fallen victims to its rage or rapacity.

Fatal Sport.—Some years since, two hunters, accompanied by two dogs, went out in quest of game near the Catskill Mountains. At the foot of a large hill, they agreed to go round it in opposite directions, and, when either discharged his rifle, the other was to hasten towards him to aid in securing the game. Soon after parting, the report of a rifle was heard by one of them, who, hastening towards the spot, after some search, found nothing but the dog, dreadfully lacerated, and dead. He now became much alarmed for the fate of his companion, and, while anxiously looking around, was horror-struck by the harsh growl of a cougar, which he perceived on a large limb of a tree, crouching upon the body of his friend, and apparently meditating an attack on himself. Instantly he levelled his rifle at the beast, and was so fortunate as to wound it mortally, when it fell to the ground along with the body of his slaughtered companion. His dog then rushed upon the wounded cougar, which, with one blow of its paw, laid the poor animal dead by its side. The surviving hunter now left the spot, and quickly returned, with several other persons, when they found the lifeless cougar extended near the dead bodies of the hunter and the faithful dogs.

Terrible Revenge.—The following account is furnished by a correspondent of the "Cabinet of Natural History:" "It was on as beautiful an autumnal day as ever ushered in the Indian summer, that I made an excursion after game among a group of mountains, or rather on a link in the great chain of the Alleghany range, which runs in a north-eastern direction in that part of Pennsylvania which bounds the New York line.

"I had kept the summit of the mountains for several miles, without success, for a breeze had arisen shortly after sunrise, which rattled through the trees, and made it unfavorable for hunting on dry ground; and indeed the only wild animal I saw was a bear, that was feeding on another ridge across a deep valley, and entirely out of reach of my rifle-shot. I therefore descended the mountain in an oblique direction, towards the salt springs, which I soon reached, and, after finding others had preceded me here, I left the spot for another mountain, on which I intended to pass the remainder of the day, gradually working my way home. This mountain was covered with chestnut-trees; and here it was that I caught a glimpse of the bear from the other ridge, and found he had disappeared but a short time previous to my arrival on this mountain. I followed his track for three miles, for chestnuts lay in abundance on the ground, and bears, like hogs, root up the leaves in search of food beneath; and it no doubt had lingered about here eating its meal until my near approach gave warning of its danger. This I could discover, as, the leaves having been wet by the melted frost on the top, a path could be traced where the bear, in running, had turned the dried part of the leaves uppermost. I quickened my pace along the mountainside and around the turn of the mountain, with the hopes of surprising the bear; and, after a rapid chase for the distance above mentioned, all proved fruitless, and I relinquished further pursuit. Warm with this exercise, and somewhat fatigued, I descended the mountain-side, and took my seat beside a stream of water which gently washed the base of the mountain, and emptied itself into the head of the waters of the Susquehannah.

"I had remained, sitting on a fallen tree, whose branches extended considerably into the water, for, perhaps, an hour and a half, when, of a sudden, I heard a rustling among the leaves on the mountain immediately above my head, which, at first, was so distant that I thought it merely an eddy in the wind, whirling the leaves from the ground; but it increased so rapidly, and approached so near the spot where I sat, that instinctively I seized my rifle, ready in a moment to meet any emergency which might offer.

"That part of the mountain where I was seated was covered with laurel and other bushes, and, owing to the density of this shrubbery, I could not discover an object more than ten yards from me; this, as will afterwards appear, afforded me protection; at any rate, it conduced to my success. The noise among the leaves now became tremendous, and the object approached so near, that I distinctly heard an unnatural grunting noise, as if from some animal in great distress. At length, a sudden plunge into the water, not more than twenty yards from me, uncovered to my view a full-grown black bear, intent upon nothing but its endeavors to press through the water and reach the opposite shore. The water, on an average, was not more than two feet deep, which was not sufficient for the animal to swim, and too deep to run through; consequently, the eagerness with which the bear pressed through the water created such a splashing noise as fairly echoed through the hills. With scarcely a thought, I brought my rifle to my shoulder with the intention of shooting; but, before I could sight it correctly, the bear rushed behind a rock which shielded it from my view. This gave me a momentary season for reflection; and, although I could have killed the bear so soon as it had passed the rock, I determined to await the result of such extraordinary conduct in this animal; for I was wonder-struck at actions which were not only strange, but even ludicrous,—there not appearing then any cause for them. The mystery, however, was soon unravelled.

"The stream of water was not more than ten rods in width; and before the bear was two thirds across it, I heard another rustling, on the mountain-side, among the leaves, as if by jumps, and a second plunge into the water convinced me that the bear had good cause for its precipitation; for here, pressing hard at its heels, was a formidable antagonist in an enormous panther, which pursued the bear with such determined inveteracy and appalling growls, as made me shudder as with a chill.

"The panther plunged into the water not more than eighteen or twenty yards from me; and, had it been but one third of that distance, I feel convinced I should have been unheeded by this animal, so intent was it on the destruction of the bear. It must indeed be an extraordinary case which will make a panther plunge into water, as it is a great characteristic of the feline species always to avoid water, unless driven to it either by necessity or desperation; but here nature was set aside, and some powerful motive predominated in the passions of this animal, which put all laws of instinct at defiance, and, unlike the clumsy bustling of the bear through the water, the panther went with bounds of ten feet at a time, and, ere the former reached the opposite shore, the latter was midway of the stream. This was a moment of thrilling interest; and that feeling so common to the human breast, when the strong is combating with the weak, now took possession of mine, and, espousing the cause of the weaker party, abstractedly from every consideration which was in the wrong, I could not help wishing safety to the bear and death to the panther. Under the impulse of these feelings, I once more brought my rifle to my shoulder, with the intention of shooting the panther through the heart; but, in spite of myself, I shrank from the effort. Perhaps it was well I reserved my fire; for, had I only wounded the animal, I might have been a victim to its ferocity.

"So soon as the bear found there was no possibility of escape from an issue with so dreadful an enemy, on reaching the opposite bank of the stream, it shook the water from its hair like a dog, ran about fifteen feet on the bank, and lay directly on its back in a defensive posture. This it had scarcely done, when the panther reached the water's edge, and then, with a yell of vengeance, it made one bound, and sprang, with outstretched claws, and spitting like a cat, immediately on the bear, which lay in terror on the ground, ready to receive its antagonist; but the contest was soon at an end. Not more easily does the eagle rend in sunder its terror-stricken prey, than did the enraged panther tear in scattered fragments the helpless bear. It appeared but the work of a moment, and that moment was one of unrelenting vengeance; for no sooner did the panther alight on its victim, than, with the most ferocious yells, it planted its hinder claws deep in the entrails of the bear, and, by a few rips, tore its antagonist in pieces. Although the bear was full grown, it must have been young, and deficient in energy; for it was so overcome with dread as not to be able to make the least resistance.

"Satisfied with glutting its vengeance, the panther turned from the bear, and came directly to the water's edge to drink, and allay the parching thirst created by so great excitement; after which, it looked down and then up the stream, as though it sought a place to cross, that it might avoid the water; then, as if satisfied with revenge, and enjoying its victory, stood twisting and curling its tail like a cat, and then commenced licking itself dry.

"The animal was now within thirty-five yards of me; and seeing no prospect of its recrossing the stream, I took rest for my rifle on a projecting limb of the tree on which I still sat, and fired directly at the panther's heart. The moment I discharged my rifle, the monster made a spring about six feet perpendicular, with a tremendous growl, which reverberated among the rocks; fell in the same spot whence it sprang, with its legs extended; and lay in this situation, half crouched, rocking from side to side, as if in the dizziness of approaching death. I saw plainly that my fire was fatal; but I had too much experience to approach this enemy until I could no longer discover signs of life. I therefore reloaded my rifle, and with a second shot I pierced immediately behind the ear. Its head then dropped between its paws, and all was quiet.

"On examining the panther, no marks of violence appeared, except where my rifle balls had passed completely through, within a foot of each other: but on turning the animal on its back, I discovered it to be a female, and a mother, who, by the enlargement of her teats, had evidently been suckling her young. From this circumstance, I supposed the bear had made inroads on her lair, and probably had destroyed her kittens. I was the more convinced of this from the fact, that I never knew, from my own experience, nor could I learn from the oldest hunters of my acquaintance, an instance wherein a bear and a panther engaged in combat; and again, no circumstance but the above would be sufficient to awaken that vindictive perseverance, in the passions of a panther, which would lead to the annihilation of so formidable an animal as a bear."

This animal, which is chiefly known in a domestic state, was originally wild, and is still found in that condition in the forests of Europe and Asia. It was not a native of the American continent, but was brought hither by the European settlers. The quadruped found in our woods, and sometimes called by the name of wild-cat, is a lynx. In a domestic state, the savage habits of the cat are exchanged for a soft, gentle, and confiding character, which renders her a favorite around every fireside. Nor is puss to be admired only for these winning qualities, and her utility as a mouser. She possesses considerable genius, and the memoirs of her race are scarcely less remarkable than those of her natural rival, the dog.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—The following story is furnished by a correspondent of the Penny Magazine: "I was once on a visit to a friend in the country, who had a favorite cat and dog, who lived together on the best possible terms, eating from the same plate and sleeping on the same rug. Puss had a young family, and Pincher was in the habit of making a daily visit to the kittens, whose nursery was at the top of the house. One morning, there was a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning. Pincher was in the drawing-room, and puss was attending to her family in the garret. Pincher seemed annoyed by the vivid flashes of lightning; and, just as he had crept nearer to my feet, some one entered the room followed by puss, who walked in with a disturbed air, and mewing with all her might. She came to Pincher, rubbed her face against his cheek, touched him gently with her paw, walked to the door, stopped, looked back, and mewed,—all of which said, as plainly as words could have done, 'Come with me, Pincher;' but the dog was too much alarmed himself to give any consolation to her, and took no notice of the invitation.

"The cat then returned, and renewed her application, with increased energy; but the dog was immovable, though it was evident that he understood her meaning, for he turned away his head with a half-conscious look, and crept closer to me; and puss soon left the room. Not long after this, the mewing became so piteous, that I could no longer resist going to see what was the matter. I met the cat at the top of the stairs, close by the door of my chamber. She ran to me, rubbed herself against me, and then went into the room, and crept under the wardrobe. I then heard two voices, and discovered that she had brought down one of her kittens, and lodged it there for safety; but her fears and cares being so divided between the kitten above and this little one below, I suppose she wanted Pincher to watch by this one, while she went for the other; for, having confided it to my protection, she hastened up stairs. Not, however, wishing to have charge of the young family, I followed her up, taking the kitten with me, placed it beside her, and moved the little bed farther from the window, through which the lightning flashed so vividly as to alarm poor puss for the safety of her progeny. I then remained in the garret till the storm had passed away.

"On the following morning, much to my surprise, I found puss waiting for me at the door of my apartment. She accompanied me down to breakfast, sat by me, and caressed me in every possible way. She had always been in the habit of going down to breakfast with the lady of the house; but on this morning she had resisted all her coaxing to leave my door, and would not move a step till I had made my appearance. She had never done this before, and never did it again. She had shown her gratitude to me for the care of her little ones, and her duty was done."

The editor of the "Edinburgh Evening Courant" gives us the following extraordinary story: "A country gentleman of our acquaintance, who is neither a friend to thieves nor poachers, has at this moment, in his household, a favorite cat, whose honesty, he is sorry to say, there is but too much reason to call in question. The animal, however, is far from being selfish in her principles; for her acceptable gleanings she regularly shares among the children of the family in which her lot is cast. It is the habit of this grimalkin to leave the kitchen or parlor, as often as hunger and an opportunity may occur, and wend her way to a certain pastrycook's shop, where, the better to conceal her purpose, she endeavors slyly to ingratiate herself into favor with the mistress of the house. As soon as the shopkeeper's attention becomes engrossed in business, or otherwise, puss contrives to pilfer a small pie or tart from the shelves on which they are placed, speedily afterwards making the best of her way home with her booty.

"She then carefully delivers her prize to some of the little ones in the nursery. A division of the stolen property quickly takes place; and here it is singularly amusing to observe the sleekit animal, not the least conspicuous among the numerous group, thankfully munching her share of the illegal traffic. We may add, that the pastrycook is by no means disposed to institute a legal process against poor Mrs. Puss, as the children of the gentleman to whom we allude are honest enough to acknowledge their fourfooted playmate's failings to papa, who willingly compensates any damage the shopkeeper may sustain from the petty depredations of the would-be philanthropic cat."

In the month of July, 1801, a woman was murdered in Paris. A magistrate, accompanied by a physician, went to the place where the murder had been committed, to examine the body. It was lying upon the floor, and a greyhound, who was standing by the corpse, licked it from time to time, and howled mournfully. When the gentlemen entered the apartment, he ran to them without barking, and then returned, with a melancholy mien, to the body of his murdered mistress. Upon a chest in a corner of the room a cat sat motionless, with eyes, expressive of furious indignation, steadfastly fixed upon the body. Many persons now entered the apartment; but neither the appearance of such a crowd of strangers, nor the confusion that prevailed in the place, could make her change her position.

In the mean time, some persons were apprehended on suspicion of being the murderers, and it was resolved to lead them into the apartment. Before the cat got sight of them, when she only heard their footsteps approaching, her eyes flashed with increased fury, her hair stood erect, and so soon as she saw them enter the apartment, she sprang towards them with expressions of the most violent rage, but did not venture to attack them, being probably afraid of the numbers that followed. Having turned several times towards them with a peculiar ferocity of aspect, she crept into a corner, with a mien indicative of the deepest melancholy. This behavior of the cat astonished every one present. The effect which it produced upon the murderers was such as almost amounted to an acknowledgment of their guilt. Nor did this remain long doubtful, for a train of accessory circumstances was soon discovered, which proved it to a complete conviction.

A cat, which had a numerous litter of kittens, one summer day in spring, encouraged her little ones to frolic in the vernal beams of the noon, about the stable door, where she dwelt. While she was joining them in a thousand tricks and gambols, a large hawk, who was sailing above the barn-yard, in a moment darted upon one of the kittens, and would have as quickly borne it off, but for the courageous mother, who, seeing the danger of her offspring, sprang on the common enemy, who, to defend itself, let fall the prize. The battle presently became severe to both parties. The hawk, by the power of his wings, the sharpness of his talons, and the strength of his beak, had for a while the advantage, cruelly lacerating the poor cat, and actually deprived her of one eye in the conflict; but puss, no way daunted at the accident, strove, with all her cunning and agility, for her kittens, till she had broken the wing of her adversary. In this state, she got him more within the power of her claws, and, availing herself of this advantage, by an instantaneous exertion she laid the hawk motionless beneath her feet; and, as if exulting in the victory, tore the head off the vanquished tyrant. This accomplished, disregarding the loss of her eye, she ran to the bleeding kitten, licked the wounds made by the hawk's talons in its tender sides, and purred whilst she caressed her liberated offspring.

In the summer of 1792, a gentleman who lived in the neighborhood of Portsmouth, England, had a cat, which kittened four or five days after a hen had brought out a brood of chickens. As he did not wish to keep more than one cat at a time, the kittens were all drowned, and the same day the cat and one chicken were missing. Diligent search was immediately made in every place that could be thought of, both in and out of the house, to no purpose; it was then concluded that some mischance had befallen both. Four days afterwards, however, the servant, having occasion to go into an unfrequented part of the cellar, discovered, to his great astonishment, the cat lying in one corner, with the chicken hugged close to her body, and one paw laid over it, as if to preserve it from injury. The cat and adopted chicken were brought into a closet in the kitchen, where they continued some days, the cat treating the chicken in every respect as a kitten. Whenever the chicken left the cat to eat, she appeared very uneasy; but, on its return, she received it with the affection of a mother, pressed it to her body, purred, and seemed perfectly happy. If the chicken was carried to the hen, it immediately returned to the cat. The chicken was by some accident killed, and the cat would not eat for several days afterwards, being inconsolable for its loss.

"I had," says M. Wenzel, "a cat and dog which became so attached to each other, that they would never willingly be asunder. Whenever the dog got any choice morsel of food, he was sure to divide it with his whiskered friend. They always ate sociably out of one plate, slept in the same bed, and daily walked out together. Wishing to put this apparently sincere friendship to the proof, I, one day, took the cat by herself into my room, while I had the dog guarded in another apartment. I entertained the cat in a most sumptuous manner, being desirous to see what sort of a meal she would make without her friend, who had hitherto been her constant table companion. The cat enjoyed the treat with great glee, and seemed to have entirely forgotten the dog. I had had a partridge for dinner, half of which I intended to keep for supper. My wife covered it with a plate, and put it into a cupboard, the door of which she did not lock. The cat left the room, and I walked out upon business. My wife, meanwhile, sat at work in an adjoining apartment.

"When I returned home, she related to me the following circumstances: The cat, having hastily left the dining-room, went to the dog, and mewed uncommonly loud, and in different tones of voice, which the dog, from time to time, answered with a short bark. They then went both to the door of the room where the cat had dined, and waited till it was opened. One of my children opened the door, and immediately the two friends entered the apartment. The mewing of the cat excited my wife's attention. She rose from her seat, and stepped softly up to the door, which stood ajar, to observe what was going on. The cat led the dog to the cupboard which contained the partridge, pushed off the plate which covered it, and, taking out my intended supper, laid it before her canine friend, who devoured it greedily. Probably the cat, by her mewing, had given the dog to understand what an excellent meal she had made, and how sorry she was that he had not participated in it; but, at the same time, had given him to understand that something was left for him in the cupboard, and persuaded him to follow her thither. Since that time I have paid particular attention to these animals, and am perfectly convinced that they communicate to each other whatever seems interesting to either."

A cat belonging to an elderly lady in Bath, England, was so attached to her mistress, that she would pass the night in her bedchamber, which was four stories high. Outside of the window was the parapet wall, on which the lady often strewed crumbs for the sparrows that came to partake of them. The lady always sleeping with her window open, the cat would pounce upon the birds, and kill them. One morning, giving a "longing, lingering look" at the top of the wall, and seeing it free from crumbs, she was at a loss for an expedient to decoy the feathered tribe, when, reconnoitring, she discovered a small bunch of wheat suspended in the room, which she sprang at, and succeeded in getting down. She then carried it to the favorite resort of the sparrows, and actually threshed the corn out, by beating it on the wall, then hiding herself. After a while, the birds came, and she resumed her favorite sport of killing the dupes of her sagacity.

A cat belonging to a gentleman of Sheffield, England, carried her notions of beauty so far, that she would not condescend to nourish and protect her own offspring, if they happened to be tinted with colors different from what adorned her own figure, which was what is usually denominated tortoise-shell. She happened, on one occasion only, to produce one kitten, of a jet black. The cruel mother drew the unfortunate little creature out of the bed in which it lay, and, refusing to give it suck, it perished on the cold ground. Some time after, she gave birth to three more, one of which had the misfortune not to be clad in the same colors as the mother. It was therefore ousted by the unnatural parent; and, although again and again replaced in its bed, it was as frequently turned out again. The owner of the cat, finding it useless to persist in what puss had determined should not be, in humanity consigned the kitten to a watery grave,—the victim of a parent's pride and cruelty.

"I once saw," says De la Croix, "a lecturer upon experimental philosophy place a cat under the glass receiver of an air-pump, for the purpose of demonstrating that very certain fact, that life cannot be supported without air and respiration. The lecturer had already made several strokes with the piston, in order to exhaust the receiver of its air, when the animal, who began to feel herself very uncomfortable in the rarefied atmosphere, was fortunate enough to discover the source from which her uneasiness proceeded. She placed her paw upon the hole through which the air escaped, and thus prevented any more from passing out of the receiver. All the exertions of the philosopher were now unavailing: in vain he drew the piston; the cat's paw effectually prevented its operation. Hoping to effect his purpose, he let air again into the receiver, which as soon as the cat perceived, she withdrew her paw from the aperture; but whenever he attempted to exhaust the receiver, she applied her paw as before. All the spectators clapped their hands in admiration of the wonderful sagacity of the animal, and the lecturer found himself under the necessity of liberating her, and substituting in her place another, that possessed less penetration, and enabled him to exhibit the cruel experiment."

A lady at Potsdam, in Prussia, tells an anecdote of one of her children, who, when about six years old, got a splinter of wood into her foot, early one morning, and, sitting down on the floor of the chamber, cried most vehemently. Her elder sister, asleep in the same apartment, was in the act of getting up to inquire the cause of her sister's tears, when she observed the cat, who was a favorite playmate of the children, and of a gentle and peaceable disposition, leave her seat under the stove, go up to the crying girl, and, with one of her paws, give her so smart a blow upon the cheek as to draw blood; and with the utmost gravity resume her seat under the stove, and relapse into slumber. As she was otherwise so harmless, the conclusion was, that she intended this as a chastisement for being disturbed, in hopes that she might enjoy her morning nap without interruption.

A lady residing in Glasgow had a handsome cat sent her from Edinburgh. It was conveyed to her in a close basket, and in a carriage. She was carefully watched for two months; but having produced a pair of young ones, at that time she was left to her own discretion, which she very soon employed in disappearing with both her kittens. The lady at Glasgow wrote to her friend in Edinburgh, deploring her loss, and the cat was supposed to have strayed away.

About a fortnight, however, after her disappearance from Glasgow, her well-known mew was heard at the street door of her old mistress in Edinburgh, and there she was with both her kittens! they in the best condition—but she very thin. It is clear that she could only carry one kitten at a time. The distance from Edinburgh to Glasgow being forty miles, she must have travelled one hundred and twenty miles at least! Her prudence must likewise have suggested the necessity of journeying in the night, with many other precautions for the safety of her young.

This order embraces several species of the seal kind, which are found in all seas, but chiefly in those of the polar regions. Their structure is admirably adapted to their mode of life; the nostrils and ears both closing when the animal dives. Its hind feet alone are used for swimming. Its movements on land are slow and painful, dragging itself along like a reptile.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—Mr. Brown furnishes us with the following account: About twenty-five years ago, a seal was so completely domesticated that it remained with a gentleman, whose residence was but a short distance from the sea, without attempting to escape. It knew all the inmates of the family, and would come to its master when he called it by name. It was usually kept in the stable, but was sometimes permitted to enter the kitchen, where it seemed to take great delight in reposing before the fire. It was taken to the sea every day, and allowed to fish for itself, in which it was very dexterous; but when unsuccessful, fish was bought for it. When tired of swimming, it came up to the boat, holding up its head to be taken in.

A farmer in Fifeshire, Scotland, while looking for crabs and lobsters, among the rocks, caught a young seal about two feet and a half long, and carried it home. He fed it with pottage and milk, which it ate with avidity. He kept it for three days, feeding it on this meal, when, his wife being tired of it, he took it away, and restored it to its native element. He was accompanied by some of his neighbors. On reaching the shore, it was thrown into the sea; but, instead of making its escape, as one would have expected, it returned to the men. The tallest of them waded to a considerable distance into the sea, and, after throwing it as far as he was able, speedily got behind a rock, and concealed himself; but the affectionate animal soon discovered his hiding-place, and crept close up to his feet. The farmer, moved by its attachment, took it home again, and kept it for some time.

Seals are said to be delighted with music. Mr. Laing, in his account of a voyage to Spitzbergen, mentions that the son of the master of the vessel in which he sailed, who was fond of playing on the violin, never failed to have a numerous auditory, when in the seas frequented by seals; and they have been seen to follow a ship for miles when any person was playing on the deck.

It is a common practice in Cornwall, England, for persons, when in pursuit of seals, as soon as the animal has elevated its head above water, to halloo to it till they can approach within gunshot, as it will listen to the sound for several minutes.

The bottlenose seal is in general very inactive, but when irritated, is exceedingly revengeful. A sailor, who had killed a young one, was in the act of skinning it, when its mother approached him unperceived, and, seizing him in her mouth, bit him so dreadfully that he died of the wound in three days.

This animal is a native of the polar regions, and in many of its habits resembles the seal. It lives in troops, which visit the shore, or extensive fields of ice, as a sort of home. Its food consists of a kind of seaweed, which it tears up by means of its tusks. It is very much hunted for its skin and its oil.

Anecdote.—In the year 1766, a vessel which had gone to the north seas, to trade with the Esquimaux, had a boat out with a party of the crew. A number of walruses attacked them, and, notwithstanding every effort to keep them at bay, a small one contrived to get over the stern of the boat, looked at the men for some time, and then plunged into the water to rejoin his companions. Immediately after, another one, of enormous bulk, made the same attempt to get over the bow, which, had he succeeded, would have upset the boat; but, after trying every method in vain to keep him off, the boatswain discharged the contents of a gun loaded with goose-shot into the animal's mouth, which killed him; he immediately disappeared, and was followed by the whole herd. Seeing what had happened to their companion, the enraged animals soon followed the boat; but it luckily reached the ship, and all hands had got on board before they came up; otherwise, some serious mischief would, doubtless, have befallen the boat's crew.

This order includes animals with a pouch under the belly, where the young are in some cases produced and nursed.

This curious animal belongs exclusively to America, and is familiarly known in the milder parts of the United States. It is about the size of a cat, but its legs are short, and its body broad and flat. The females are remarkable for having an abdominal pouch, to which the young ones retreat in time of danger. The hunting of this animal is the favorite sport in some of the Middle States. Parties go out in the moonlight evenings of autumn, attended by dogs. These trace the opossum to some tree, between the branches of which he hides himself from the view of the hunter. The latter shakes him down, and the quadruped, rolling himself into a ball, pretends to be dead. If not immediately seized, he uncoils himself, and attempts to steal away. The various artifices it adopts for escape have given rise to the proverb of "playing 'possum."

The following description of this animal, which is peculiar to New Holland, is taken from Dawson's "Present State of Australia:"—

"The country on our right consisted of high and poor, stony hills, thickly timbered; that on the left, on the opposite side of the river, was a rich and thinly-timbered country. A low and fertile flat meadow there skirted the river; and, at the extremity of the flat, hills gradually arose with a gentle slope, covered with verdure, upon which an immense herd of kangaroos were feeding. I crossed over with Maty Bill and a brace of dogs, leaving the party to proceed on their route. The moment we had crossed, the kangaroos moved off. It is extremely curious to see the manner in which a large herd of these animals jump before you. It has often been asserted that they make use of their tails to spring from you when they are pursued. This is not correct. Their tails never touch the ground when they move, except when they are on their feed, or at play; and the faster they run or jump, the higher they carry them.

"The male kangaroos were called, by the natives, old men, 'wool man;' and the females, young ladies, 'young liddy.' The males are not so swift as the females; and the natives, in wet seasons, occasionally run the former down when very large, their weight causing them to sink in the wet ground, and thus to become tired. They frequently, however, make up for this disadvantage by fierceness and cunning, when attacked either by men or dogs; and it is exceedingly difficult for a brace of the best dogs to kill a 'corbon wool man.' When they can, they will hug a dog or a man as a bear would do; and as they are armed with long, sharp claws, they not unfrequently let a dog's entrails out, or otherwise lacerate him in the most dreadful manner, sitting all the while on their haunches, hugging and scratching with determined fury.

"The kind of dog used for coursing the kangaroo is, generally, a cross between the greyhound and the mastiff, or sheep-dog; but, in a climate like New South Wales, they have, to use the common phrase, too much lumber about them. The true-bred greyhound is the most useful dog. He has more wind; he ascends the hills with more ease, and runs double the number of courses in a day. He has more bottom in running; and, if he has less ferocity when he comes up with an 'old man,' so much the better, as he exposes himself the less, and lives to afford sport another day. The strongest and most courageous dog can seldom conquer a 'wool man' alone, and not one in fifty will face him fairly; the dog who has the temerity is certain to be disabled, if not killed.

"The herd of kangaroos we had thus come upon was too numerous to allow of the dogs' being let loose; but, as the day's walk was drawing to a close, I had given Maty Bill liberty to catch another kangaroo, if we should fall in with a single one. After moving up to the foot of the hill, about a quarter of a mile from the river, my sable companion eyed a 'corbon wool man,' as he called it, quietly feeding at a distance, on the slope of the hill. His eyes sparkled; he was all agitation; and he called out, 'Massa, massa! You tee! you tee! wool man! wool man! corbon wool man!' and off he ran with his dogs, till he was within a fair distance, when he slipped their collars. I was at this time on foot, and the whole of them, therefore, were soon out of my sight. They had turned round the bottom of the hill, in the direction of the river; and, as I was following them down, I heard the dogs at bay, and the shrill call of 'coo-oo-oo,' from my companion, to direct me to the spot; and, on turning the corner of the hill, I met him, running, and calling as fast and as loud as he could. As soon as he saw me, he stopped, and called out, 'Massa, massa! Make haste! Dingo (dogs) have got him in ribber. Many corbon wool man, all the same like it bullock.'

"All this was said in a breath; and as I could not pretend to run with him, I desired him to go as fast as he could, and help the dogs, till I should arrive. When I got up to the spot, he was in the middle of the river, with about two feet depth of water, while the kangaroo, sitting upright on its haunches, was keeping both him and the dogs at a respectful distance, and had laid bare the windpipe of one of the dogs. Billy's waddy was too short to reach him without coming to close quarters, and he knew better than to do that; at length he got behind him, and, with a blow on the head, he despatched him. No huntsman could have shown more ardor in the pursuit, or more pleasure at the death of a fox, than did poor Maty Bill upon this occasion. The kangaroo was so heavy, weighing about a hundred and fifty pounds, that he could not lift him out of the water, and we were obliged to leave him till our party arrived on the opposite side."

This order embraces a considerable number of small animals, most of which possess a gentle and harmless character. They live upon vegetable matter, and a large proportion use their fore-paws in the manner of hands.

Of this lively, pleasing genus, there is a considerable variety, especially in the temperate zone. They are very agile, and use their paws with much grace and dexterity, in handling their food.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—A squirrel, seated in a nut-tree, was once observed to weigh a nut in each paw, to discover by weight which was good; the light ones he invariably dropped, thus making a heap of them at the foot of the tree. On examining this heap, it was found to consist entirely of bad nuts.

A gentleman near Edinburgh took a common squirrel from a nest, which he reared, and rendered extremely docile. It was kept in a box, nailed against the wall, which was wired in front, and had a small aperture at the end, to allow the animal to enter. To the end of the box was suspended a rope, which touched the ground, by which the animal descended from and ascended to its domicile at pleasure. It became extremely playful, and was familiar with every one of the family, but devotedly attached to its master, who generally carried it about with him in his coat-pocket.

The little creature used to watch all its master's movements. Whenever it saw him preparing to go out, it ran up his legs, and entered his pocket, from whence it would peep out at passengers, as he walked along the streets—never venturing, however, to go out. But no sooner did he reach the outskirts of the city, than the squirrel leaped to the ground, ran along the road, ascended the tops of trees and hedges with the quickness of lightning, and nibbled at the leaves and bark; and, if he walked on, it would descend, scamper after him, and again enter his pocket. In this manner, it would amuse itself during a walk of miles, which its master frequently indulged in.

It was taught to catch food, roots, and acorns, with its fore-paws, which it accomplished with great neatness. It was also instructed to leap over a stick, held out to it, and perform various other little tricks.

A lady in England had a squirrel which she taught to crack nuts for her, and hand her the kernels with his paws. She also instructed him to count money; and he was so attentive that, whenever he found a coin on the ground, he took it up and carried it to her. So attached was this little creature to its mistress, that, whenever she was confined to her bed, from indisposition, he lay still in his cage, without moving, although, at other times, he was full of life and vivacity.

Some years ago, as a Swede was constructing a mill dike, late in the autumn, he accidentally came upon an abode of the ground or striped squirrel. He traced it to some distance, and found a gallery on one side, like a branch, diverging from the main stem, nearly two feet long; at its farther end was a quantity of fine white oak acorns; he soon after discovered another gallery, which contained a store of corn; a third was filled with walnuts; while a fourth contained three quarts of fine chestnuts;—all of which the provident little animal had stored up for the winter.

A correspondent of the "Penny Magazine" gives us the following account: "Although apparently not adapted to swimming, yet both gray and black squirrels venture across lakes that are one or two miles wide. In these adventurous exploits, they generally take advantage of a favorable breeze, elevating their tails, which act like sails, thus rendering their passage quicker and less laborious. I have frequently noticed black squirrels crossing Niagara River, and I always remarked that they swam across when the morning first began to dawn. On reaching the opposite shore, they appeared greatly fatigued, and, if unmolested, generally took a long rest preparatory to their setting off for the woods."

The black and gray squirrels of the western country frequently emigrate, in immense numbers, from one district to another. They may be often seen swimming across the Ohio; and it is not uncommon for persons to stand upon the banks, and kill them as they come to the shore, being then in an exhausted state.

Of this genus there are many species, including not only the domestic mouse, but several other kinds, as well as the various kinds of rats. The common mouse was not originally a native of this country, but was introduced from Europe. The same may be said of the common rat. These animals are spread over nearly the whole world, seeming always to be the attendants upon man.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—"On a rainy evening," says Dr. Archer, "as I was alone in my chamber in the town of Norfolk, I took up my flute and commenced playing. In a few moments, my attention was directed to a mouse that I saw creeping from a hole, and advancing to a chair in which I was sitting. I ceased playing, and it ran precipitately back to its hole. I began again to play, and was much surprised to see it reappear, and take its old position. It couched upon the floor, shut its eyes, and appeared in ecstasy, being differently affected by the music I played, as it varied from slow and plaintive to lively and animated."

A gentleman who was on board a British man of war, in the year 1817, states that, as he and some officers were seated by the fire, one of them began to play a plaintive air on the violin. He had scarcely performed ten minutes, when a mouse, apparently frantic, made its appearance in the centre of the floor. The strange gestures of the little animal strongly excited the attention of the officers, who, with one consent, resolved to suffer it to continue its singular actions unmolested. Its exertions now appeared to be greater every moment; it shook its head, leaped about the table, and exhibited signs of the most ecstatic delight. After performing actions that an animal so diminutive would at first sight seem incapable of, the little creature suddenly ceased to move, fell down, and expired, without evincing any symptoms of pain.

An officer confined to the Bastille, at Paris, begged to be allowed to play on his lute, to soften his confinement by its harmonies. Shortly afterwards, when playing on the instrument, he was much astonished to see a number of mice come frisking out of their holes, and many spiders descending from their webs, and congregating round him while he continued the music. Whenever he ceased, they dispersed; whenever he played again, they reappeared. He soon had a numerous audience, amounting to about a hundred mice and spiders.

Mr. Olafsen gives an account of the remarkable instinct of the Iceland mouse. In a country where berries are but thinly dispersed, these little animals are obliged to cross rivers to make their distant forages. In their return with the booty to their magazines, they are obliged to repass the stream. "The party, which consists of from six to ten, select a flat piece of dried cow-dung, on which they place the berries on a heap in the middle; then, by their united force, they bring it to the water's edge, and, after launching it, embark and place themselves round the heap, with their heads joined over it and their backs to the water, their tails pendent in the stream, serving the purpose of rudders." Remarkable as this story is, the truth of it is confirmed by many people who have watched the arrangements of the tiny navigators.

Mr. Mangili, an Italian naturalist, made some curious experiments upon the dormouse. He kept one in the cupboard in his study. When the thermometer was 8° above the freezing point, the little animal curled himself up among a heap of papers, and went to sleep. It was ascertained that the animal breathed, and suspended his respiration, at regular intervals, sometimes every four minutes. Within ten days from his beginning to sleep, the dormouse awoke, and ate a little. He then went to sleep again, and continued through the winter to sleep some days and then to awaken; but as the weather became colder, the intervals of perfect repose, when no breathing could be perceived, were much longer—sometimes more than twenty minutes.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—There was, in the year 1827, in a farm-house in England, a remarkable instance, not only of docility, but of usefulness, in a rat. It first devoured the mice which were caught in traps, and was afterwards seen to catch others as they ventured from their holes; till, at length, the whole house was cleared of these animals. From the services it rendered, the family kindly protected the rat, and it used to gambol about the house, and play with the children, without the least fear. It sometimes disappeared for a week or ten days at a time, but regularly returned to its abode.

During a dreadful storm in England, in 1829, a singular instance occurred of sagacity in a rat. The River Tyne was much swollen by the water, and numbers of people had assembled to gaze on the masses of hay it swept along in its irresistible course. A swan was at last observed, sometimes struggling for the land, at other times sailing majestically along with the torrent. When it drew near, a black spot was seen on its snowy plumage, and the spectators were greatly pleased to find that this was a live rat. It is probable that it had been borne from its domicile in some hayrick, and, observing the swan, had made for it as an ark of safety, in the hope of prolonging its life. When the swan at length reached the land, the rat leaped from his back, and scampered away, amid the shouts of the spectators.

A surgeon's mate on board a ship, in 1757, relates that, while lying one evening awake in his berth, he saw a rat come into the room, and, after surveying the place attentively, retreat with the utmost caution and silence. It soon returned, leading by the ear another rat, which it left at a small distance from the hole by which they entered. A third rat then joined them. The two then searched about, and picked up all the small scraps of biscuit; these they carried to the second rat, which seemed blind, and remained on the spot where they had left it, nibbling such fare as was brought to it by its kind providers, whom the mate supposed were its offspring.

A steward of a ship infested with rats used to play some lively airs on a flute after he had baited his traps and placed them near the rat-holes. The music attracted the rats, who entered the traps unconscious of that danger which, without that allurement, they would have instinctively avoided. In this manner the steward caught fifteen or twenty rats in three hours.

There is but one species of this animal, which is found in the temperate regions of both continents. It spends a great part of its time in the water, where it constructs dams and builds huts of the branches of trees. It gnaws these asunder with wonderful dexterity, frequently cutting off a branch, the size of a walking-stick, with one effort. They live in families composed of from two to ten.

A tame Beaver.—Major Roderfort, of New York, had a tame beaver, which he kept in his house upwards of half a year, and allowed to run about like a dog. The cat belonging to the house had kittens, and she took possession of the beaver's bed, which he did not attempt to prevent. When the cat went out, the beaver would take one of the kittens between his paws, and hold it close to his breast to warm it, and treated it with much affection. Whenever the cat returned, he restored her the kitten.

Affection of the Beaver.—Two young beavers were taken alive some years ago, and carried to a factory near Hudson's Bay, where they grew very fast. One of them being accidentally killed, the survivor began to moan, abstained from food, and finally died in grief for the loss of its companion.

A tame Beaver in the Zoological Gardens of London.—"This animal arrived in England, in the winter of 1825, very young, being small and woolly, and without the covering of long hair which marks the adult beaver. It was the sole survivor of five or six, which were shipped at the same time, and was in a very pitiable condition. Good treatment soon made it familiar. When called by its name, 'Binny,' it generally answered with a little cry, and came to its owner. The hearth-rug was its favorite haunt, upon which it would lie stretched out, sometimes on its back, and sometimes flat on its belly, but always near its master. The building instinct showed itself immediately after it was let out of its cage, and materials were placed in its way,—and this before it had been a week in its new quarters. Its strength, even before it was half grown, was great. It would drag along a large sweeping-brush, or a warming-pan, grasping the handle with its teeth, so that the load came over its shoulder; it then advanced in an oblique direction, till it arrived at the point where it wished to place it. The long and large materials were always taken first; two of the longest were generally laid crosswise, with one of the ends of each touching the wall, and the other ends projecting out into the room. The area formed by the crossed brushes and the wall, he would fill up with hand-brushes, rush-baskets, books, boots, sticks, cloths, dried turf, or any thing portable. As the work grew high, he supported himself on his tail, which propped him up admirably; and he would often, after laying on one of his building materials, sit up over against it, apparently to consider his work, or, as the country people say, 'judge it.' This pause was sometimes followed by changing the position of the material 'judged,' and sometimes it was left in its place.

"After he had piled up his materials in one part of the room,—for he generally chose the same place,—he proceeded to wall up the space between the feet of a chest of drawers, which stood at a little distance from it, high enough on its legs to make the bottom a roof for him, using for this purpose dried turf and sticks, which he laid very even, and filling up the interstices with bits of coal, hay, cloth, or any thing he could pick up. This last place he seemed to appropriate for his dwelling; the former work seemed to be intended for a dam. When he had walled up the space between the feet of the chest of drawers, he proceeded to carry in sticks, clothes, hay, cotton, and to make a nest; and, when he had done, he would sit up under the drawers, and comb himself with the nails of his hind-feet. In this operation, that which appeared at first to be a malformation was shown to be a beautiful adaptation to the necessities of the animal. The huge webbed hind-feet often turn in, so as to give the appearance of deformities; but, if the toes were straight, instead of being incurved, the animal could not use them for the purpose of keeping its fur in order, and cleansing it from dirt and moisture. Binny generally carried small and light articles between his right fore-leg and his chin, walking on the other three legs; and large masses, which he could not grasp readily with his teeth, he pushed forwards, leaning against them with his right fore-paw and his chin. He never carried any thing on his tail, which he liked to dip in water, but he was not fond of plunging in his whole body. If his tail was kept moist, he never cared to drink; but if it was kept dry, it became hot, and the animal appeared distressed, and would drink a great deal. It is not impossible that the tail may have the power of absorbing water, like the skin of frogs; though it must be owned that the scaly integument which invests that member has not much of the character which generally belongs to absorbing surfaces. Bread, and bread and milk, and sugar, formed the principal part of Binny's food; but he was very fond of succulent fruits and roots. He was a most entertaining creature; and some highly comic scenes occurred between the worthy, but slow, beaver, and a light and airy macauco, that was kept in the same apartment."

Of this animal there are several species. The common porcupine of Europe is about two feet long, and covered with long spines or quills. In defending itself, it lies on one side, and rolls over upon its enemy. The quills of the American porcupine are used by the Indians in ornamenting their dress.

Curious Playmates.—We are told that Sir Ashton Lever had a tame porcupine, a domesticated hunting leopard, and a Newfoundland dog, which he used frequently to turn out together, to play in a green behind his house. No sooner were the dog and leopard let loose, than they began to chase the porcupine, who uniformly, at the outset, tried to escape by flight, but when he found there was no chance of doing so, he would thrust his head into some corner, and make a snorting noise, and erect his spines. His pursuers, if too ardent, pricked their noses, which made them angry; and in the quarrel which usually ensued, the porcupine effected his escape.

Le Vaillant says that a wound from a porcupine's quill is difficult to cure, from some poisonous quality it possesses; he mentions that a Hottentot, who was pricked in the leg by one of these, was ill for upwards of six months afterwards; and that a gentleman at the Cape kept his bed for about four months, and nearly lost his limb, in consequence of a wound inflicted by one of these animals.

Of this slender, graceful creature, there are several species. The animal which passes by the name of rabbit, in America, and is common in our woods, is a hare. The pursuit of this animal is a favorite sport in England, and some other countries of Europe.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—In the "Annals of Sporting," for 1822, we find the following interesting account of a hare: "Two years ago, a doe hare produced two young ones in a field adjoining my cottage; and the three were occasionally seen, during the summer, near the same spot; but the leverets were, I have reason to believe, killed at the latter end of September of the same year. The old doe hare was also coursed, and, making directly for my cottage, entered the garden, and there blinked the dogs. I repeatedly afterwards saw her sitting, sometimes in the garden, which is one hundred and ten yards by forty-three, but more frequently in the garden-hedge. She was repeatedly seen by greyhounds when she sat at some distance, but uniformly made for the garden, and never failed to find security. About the end of the following January, puss was no longer to be seen around the garden, as she had probably retired to some distance with a male companion. One day, in February, I heard the hounds, and shortly afterwards observed a hare making towards the garden, which it entered at a place well known, and left not the least doubt on my mind, that it was my old acquaintance, which, in my family, was distinguished by the name of Kitty. The harriers shortly afterwards came in sight, followed Kitty, and drove her from the garden.

"I became alarmed for the safety of my poor hare, and heartily wished the dogs might come to an irrecoverable fault. The hare burst away with the fleetness of the wind, and was followed, breast high, by her fierce and eager pursuers. In about twenty minutes I observed Kitty return towards the garden, apparently much exhausted, and very dirty. She took shelter beneath a small heap of sticks, which lay at no great distance from the kitchen door. No time was to be lost, as, by the cry of the hounds, I was persuaded they were nearly in sight. I took a fishing-net, and, with the assistance of the servant, covered poor Kitty, caught her, and conveyed the little, panting, trembling creature into the house. The harriers were soon at the spot, but no hare was to be found. I am not aware that I ever felt greater pleasure than in thus saving poor Kitty from her merciless pursuers. Towards evening I gave her her liberty; I turned her out in the garden, and saw her not again for some time.

"In the course of the following summer, however, I saw a hare several times which I took to be my old friend; and, in the latter end of October, Kitty was again observed in the garden. Henceforward, she was occasionally seen as on the preceding winter. One morning, in January, when I was absent, a gun was fired near my cottage. Kitty was heard to scream, but, nevertheless, entered the garden vigorously. The matter was related to me on my return home; and I was willing to hope that Kitty would survive. However, I had some doubt on the subject; and, the next morning, as soon as light permitted, I explored the garden, and found that my poor, unfortunate favorite had expired. She was stretched beneath a large gooseberry tree; and I could not help regretting very much her death."

Borlase informs us that he had a hare so completely tamed as to feed from the hand. It always lay under a chair in the ordinary sitting-room, and was as much domesticated as a cat. It was permitted to take exercise and food in the garden, but always returned to the house to repose. Its usual companions were a greyhound and a spaniel, with whom it spent its evenings. The whole three seemed much attached, and frequently sported together, and at night they were to be seen stretched together on the hearth. What is remarkable, both the greyhound and spaniel were often employed in sporting, and used secretly to go in pursuit of hares by themselves; yet they never offered the least violence to their timid friend at home.

Dr. Townson, the traveller, when at Gottingen, brought a young hare into such a state of domestication, that it would run and jump about his sofa and bed. It leaped on his knee, patted him with its fore feet; and frequently, while he was reading, it would knock the book out of his hands, as if to claim, like a fondled child, the preference of his attention.

One Sunday evening, five choristers were walking on the banks of the River Mersey, in England. Being somewhat tired, they sat down, and began to sing an anthem. The field where they sat had a wood at its termination. While they were singing, a hare issued from this wood, came with rapidity towards the place where they were sitting, and made a dead stand in the open field. She seemed to enjoy the harmony of the music, and turned her head frequently, as if listening. When they stopped, she turned slowly towards the wood. When she had nearly reached the end of the field, they again commenced an anthem, at which the hare turned round, and ran swiftly back, to within the same distance as before, where she listened with apparent rapture till they had finished. She then bent her way towards the forest with a slow pace, and disappeared.

A hare, being hard run by a pack of harriers in the west of England, and being nearly exhausted, happened to come upon another hare in her form. She instantly drew out the latter, and slipped in herself; the pack followed the newly-started hare, and the huntsmen, coming up, found the animal they had been chasing, lying down in the form, panting very hard, and covered with mud.

A gentleman, actuated by curiosity, put one male and two female hares in a large garden, walled entirely round, where they had plenty to eat. Judge his surprise, when he opened the gate of the garden in a year from the time that he had shut in the animals, to find that his family had increased to the number of forty-seven!

A hare was once seen to start from its form at the sound of the hunting horn, run towards a pool of water at a considerable distance, plunge in, and run to some rushes in the middle, where it lay down, and concealed itself. By this ingenious trick, the animal balked its pursuers, and effected its escape.

The animals in this order are not numerous, but they are marked with very peculiar characteristics. The chief species are the sloths, armadilloes, ant-eaters, and pangolins, of South America, and the platypus of Australia. Most of these are too little known to have furnished us with characteristic anecdotes.

This singular animal is destined by nature to live upon the trees. He is rare and solitary; and, as he is good for food, he is much sought after by the Indians and negroes. He is ill at ease on the ground, having no soles to his feet, which are so formed as to enable him to cling to the branches of trees, from which he suspends himself.

Mr. Waterton kept one of these animals in his room for several months. "I often took him out of the house," says he, "and placed him on the ground, in order to get a good opportunity of observing his motions. If the ground was rough, he would pull himself forward, by means of his fore legs, at a pretty good pace; but he invariably shaped his course towards the nearest tree. But if I put him upon a smooth and well-trodden part of the road, he appeared to be in trouble and distress: his favorite abode was on the back of a chair; and after getting all his legs in a line upon the topmost part of it, he would hang there for hours together, and often, with a low and inward cry, would seem to invite me to take notice of him."

The same author thus describes an adventure with a sloth: "One day, as we were crossing the Essequibo, I saw a large two-toed sloth on the ground upon the bank. How he got there was a mystery. The Indian who was with me said that he never surprised a sloth in such a situation before. He could hardly have come there to drink; for, both above and below, the branches of the trees touched the water, and afforded him a safe and easy access to it. Be this as it may, he could not make his way through the sand time enough to escape before we landed. As soon as we got up to him, he threw himself upon his back, and defended himself in gallant style with his fore legs. 'Come, poor fellow,' said I to him, 'if thou hast had a hobble to-day, thou shalt not suffer for it; I'll take no advantage of thee in misfortune. The forest is large enough for thee and me to rove in; go thy ways up above, and enjoy thyself in these endless wilds. It is more than probable thou wilt never again have an interview with man. So, fare thee well!'

"Saying this, I took up a long stick which was lying there, held it for him to hook on, and then conveyed him to a high and stately tree. He ascended with wonderful rapidity, and in about a minute he was at the top. He now went off in a side direction, and caught hold of the branch of a neighboring tree. He then proceeded towards the heart of the forest. I stood looking on, lost in amazement at his singular mode of progression, and followed him with my eyes till I lost sight of him."

Among the strange and interesting productions of Australia, no one is more wonderful than the ornithorynchus, platypus, or water-mole. It is aquatic in its habits, frequenting quiet streams, where it excavates burrows to a great depth. It is about eighteen inches long, and is covered with fur. It is web-footed, at the same time that its feet are well fitted for burrowing in the earth. Its head terminates in a broad bill, like that of a duck.

Mr. G. Bennett procured several specimens of this curious creature, but did not succeed in taking them to England. One of them was caught at the mouth of its burrow, and taken by Mr. B. to Lansdowne Park. "Here," says he, "I availed myself of the vicinity of some ponds, to give my platypus a little recreation. On opening the box where I kept it, it was lying in a corner, contracted into a very small compass, and fast asleep. I tied a very long cord to its hind leg, and roused it; in return for which, I received numerous growls. When placed on the bank, it soon found its way into the water, and travelled up the stream, apparently delighting in those places which most abounded in aquatic weeds. Although it would dive in deep water, yet it always preferred keeping close to the bank, occasionally thrusting its beak into the mud, and at the roots of the various weeds on the margin of the pond, as if in search of insects.

"After it had wandered some time, it crawled up the bank, and enjoyed the luxury of scratching itself, and rolling about. In the process of cleaning itself, the hind claws were alone brought into use for the operation—first the claws of one hind leg, then the claws of the other. The animal remained for more than an hour cleaning itself, after which, it had a more sleek and glossy appearance than before. It never became familiar, and always manifested the greatest reluctance to be placed in the box. One night it escaped, and I was never able to find it again."

This is the largest quadruped at present extant on the earth. It is nine feet high, and in some cases has risen to the height of fifteen feet. Its weight varies from four to nine thousand pounds. Nor is it more distinguished for its size than its sagacity. When tamed, it becomes the most gentle, obedient, and affectionate of domestic animals, capable of being trained to any service which may be required of it.

There are two species of elephant—the Asiatic and the African. The former is the largest and best known. In the mighty forests which they inhabit, they hold undisputed sway; their immense size, strength, and swiftness, enabling them to dislodge all intruders from their abodes. Even the lion and tiger fear their united attacks, and avoid being in their vicinity. They are excellent swimmers, and are capable of crossing the largest rivers. This power seems essential, for the quantity of food they consume renders it necessary for them to remove often from one region to another.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—Bishop Heber, in his approach to Dacca, saw a number of elephants bathing, which he thus describes: "At a distance of about half a mile from those desolate palaces a sound struck my ear, as if from the water itself on which we were riding—the most solemn and singular I can conceive. It was long, loud, deep, and tremulous—something like the blowing of a whale, or, perhaps, more like those roaring buoys which are placed at the mouths of some English harbors, in which the winds make a noise to warn ships off them. 'O,' said Abdallah, 'there are elephants bathing; Dacca much place for elephant.' I looked immediately, and saw about twenty of these fine animals, with their heads and trunks just appearing above the water. Their bellowing it was which I had heard, and which the water conveyed to us with a finer effect than if we had been on shore."

The manner of hunting and taming the wild elephant, in Asia, is curious. In the middle of a forest, where these animals are known to abound, a large piece of ground is marked out, and surrounded with strong stakes driven into the earth, interwoven with branches of trees. One end of this enclosure is narrow, and it gradually widens till it takes in a great extent of country. Several thousand men are employed to surround the herd of elephants, and to prevent their escape. They kindle large fires at certain distances; and, by hallooing, beating drums, and playing discordant instruments, so bewilder the poor animals, that they allow themselves to be insensibly driven, by some thousands more Indians, into the narrow part of the enclosure, into which they are decoyed by tame female elephants, trained to this service. At the extreme end of the large area is a small enclosure, very strongly fenced in, and guarded on all sides, into which the elephants pass by a long, narrow defile. As soon as one enters this strait, a strong bar is thrown across the passage from behind.

He now finds himself separated from his neighbors, and goaded on all sides by huntsmen, who are placed along this passage, till he reaches the smaller area, where two tame female elephants are stationed, who immediately commence disciplining him with their trunks, till he is reduced to obedience, and suffers himself to be conducted to a tree, to which he is bound by the leg, with stout thongs of untanned elk or buckskin. The tame elephants are again conducted to the enclosure, where the same operation is performed on the others, till all are subdued. They are kept bound to trees for several days, and a certain number of attendants left with each animal to supply him with food, by little and little, till he is brought by degrees to be sensible of kindness and caresses, and thus allows himself to be conducted to the stable.

So docile and susceptible of domestication is the elephant, that, in a general way, fourteen days are sufficient to reduce the animals to perfect obedience. During this time, they are fed daily with cocoa-nut leaves, of which they are excessively fond, and are conducted to the water by the tame females. In a short time, they become accustomed to the voice of their keeper, and at last quietly resign their freedom, and great energies, to the dominion of man.

The mode employed by the Africans, to take elephants alive, is by pits. Pliny, whose accounts were in general correct, mentions that, when one of the herd happened to fall into this snare, his companions would throw branches of trees and masses of earth into the pit, with the intention of raising the bottom, so that the animal might effect his escape. Although this appears to be a species of reasoning hardly to be expected from an animal, yet it has in a great measure been confirmed by Mr. Pringle, who says,—"In the year 1821, during one of my excursions in the interior of the Cape Colony, I happened to spend a few days at the Moravian missionary settlement of Enon, or White River. This place is situated in a wild but beautiful valley, near the foot of the Zuurberg Mountains, in the district of Uiterhage, and is surrounded on every side by extensive forests of evergreens, in which numerous herds of elephants still find food and shelter.

"From having been frequently hunted by the Boors and Hottentots, these animals are become so shy as scarcely ever to be seen during the day, except amongst the most remote and inaccessible ravines and jungles; but in the night time they frequently issue forth in large troops, and range, in search of food, through the inhabited farms in the White River valley; and on such occasions they sometimes revenge the wrongs of their race upon the settlers who have taken possession of their ancient haunts, by pulling up fruit-trees, treading down gardens and cornfields, breaking their ploughs, wagons, and so forth. I do not mean, however, to affirm, that the elephants really do all this mischief from feelings of revenge, or with the direct intention of annoying their human persecutors. They pull up the trees, probably, because they want to browse on their soft roots; and they demolish the agricultural implements merely because they happen to be in their way.

"But what I am now about to state assuredly indicates no ordinary intelligence. A few days before my arrival at Enon, a troop of elephants came down, one dark and rainy night, close to the outskirts of the village. The missionaries heard them bellowing, and making an extraordinary noise, for a long time, at the upper end of the orchard; but, knowing well how dangerous it is to encounter these powerful animals in the night, they kept close within their houses till daylight. Next morning, on their examining the spot where they had heard the elephants, they discovered the cause of all this nocturnal uproar. There was at this spot a ditch or trench, about four or five feet in width, and nearly fourteen feet in depth, which the industrious missionaries had recently cut through the banks of the river, on purpose to lead out water to irrigate some part of their garden, and to drive a corn-mill. Into this trench, which was still unfinished, and without water, one of the elephants had evidently fallen, for the marks of his feet were distinctly visible at the bottom, as well as the impress of his huge body on the sides.

"How he had got into it, was not easy to conjecture; but how, being once in, he ever contrived to get out again, was the marvel. By his own unaided efforts it was obviously impossible for such an animal to have extricated himself. Could his comrades, then, have assisted him? There can be no question that they had, though by what means, unless by hauling him out with their trunks, it would not be easy to conjecture; and, in corroboration of this supposition, on examining the spot myself, I found the edges of this trench deeply indented with numerous vestiges, as if the other elephants had stationed themselves on either side,—some of them kneeling, and others on their feet,—and had thus, by united efforts, and probably after many failures, hoisted their unlucky brother out of the pit."

We are told that the Emperor Domitian had a troop of elephants disciplined to dance to the sound of music; and that one of them, which had been beaten for not having his lesson perfect, was observed, on the following night, to be practising by himself in a meadow.

The elephant recently exhibited in New York was fed by a young girl with cakes and apples. While in the act of pulling an apple from her bag, she drew out her ivory card-case, which fell, unobserved, in the sawdust of the ring. At the close of the performances, the crowd opened to let the elephant pass out; but, instead of proceeding as usual, he turned aside, and thrust his trunk in the midst of a group of ladies and gentlemen, who, as might be supposed, were very much alarmed. The keeper at this moment discovered that the animal had something in his trunk: upon examination, it was found to be the young lady's card-case, which the elephant had picked up, and was now seeking out the fair owner.

A female elephant, belonging to a gentleman at Calcutta, being ordered from the upper country to Chittagong, broke loose from her keeper, and was lost in the woods. The excuses which the man made were not admitted. It was supposed that he had sold the elephant. His wife and family were, therefore, sold as slaves, and he was himself condemned to work upon the roads. About twelve years after, this man was ordered into the country to assist in catching wild elephants. In a group that he saw before him, the keeper thought that he recognized his long-lost elephant. He was determined to go up to it; nor could the strongest representations of the danger dissuade him from his purpose.

When he approached the creature, she knew him and, giving him three salutes by waving her trunk in the air, knelt down and received him on her back. She afterwards assisted in securing the other elephants, and likewise brought with her three young ones, which she had produced during her absence. The keeper recovered his character; and, as a recompense for his sufferings and intrepidity, an annuity was settled on him for life. This elephant was afterwards in the possession of Warren Hastings.

Of the attachment of elephants to their keepers, or to those who have done them a kindness, many instances are on record. Ælian relates that a man of rank in India, having very carefully trained up a female elephant, used daily to ride upon her. She was exceedingly sagacious, and much attached to her master. The prince, having heard of the extraordinary gentleness and capacity of this animal, demanded her of her owner. But so attached was this person to his elephant, that he resolved to keep her at all hazards, and fled with her to the mountains. The prince, having heard of his retreat, ordered a party of soldiers to pursue, and bring back the fugitive with his elephant. They overtook him at the top of a steep hill, where he defended himself by throwing stones down upon his pursuers, in which he was assisted by his faithful elephant, who threw stones with great dexterity. At length, however, the soldiers gained the summit of the hill, and were about to seize the fugitive, when the elephant rushed amongst them with the utmost fury, trampled some to death, dashed others to the ground with her trunk, and put the rest to flight. She then placed her master, who was wounded in the contest upon her back, and conveyed him to a place of security.

When Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, attacked the territory of Argos, one of his soldiers, who was mounted upon an elephant, received a dangerous wound, and fell to the ground. When the elephant discovered that he had lost his master in the tumult, he furiously rushed among the crowd, dispersing them in every direction, till he had found him. He then raised him from the ground with his trunk, and, placing him across his tusks, carried him back to the town.

Some years ago, an elephant at Dekan, from a motive of revenge, killed its conductor. The wife of the unfortunate man was witness to the dreadful scene; and, in the frenzy of her mental agony, took her two children, and threw them at the feet of the elephant, saying, "As you have slain my husband, take my life, also, as well as that of my children!" The elephant became calm, seemed to relent, and, as if stung with remorse, took up the eldest boy with its trunk, placed him on its neck, adopted him for its cornac, and never afterwards allowed another to occupy that seat.

A soldier, in India, was in the habit of giving to an elephant, whenever he received his pay, a certain quantity of arrack. Once, being intoxicated, this soldier committed some excesses, and was ordered to be sent to the guard-house; but he fled from the soldiers who were sent to apprehend him, and took refuge under the body of his favorite elephant, where he laid himself down quietly, and fell asleep. In vain the guard attempted to seize upon him, and draw him from his place of refuge; for the grateful elephant defended him with his trunk, and they were obliged to abandon their attempt to secure him. When the soldier awoke next morning from his drunken slumber, he was very much alarmed at finding himself under the belly of such an enormous animal; but the elephant caressed him with his trunk, so as to quiet his apprehensions, and he got up and departed in safety.

The author of the "Twelve Years' Military Adventures" says,—"I have seen the wife of a mohout give a baby in charge to an elephant, while she was on some business, and have been highly amused in observing the sagacity and care of the unwieldy nurse. The child, which, like most children, did not like to lie still in one position, would, as soon as left to itself, begin crawling about, in which exercise it would probably get among the legs of the animal, or entangle itself in the branches of the trees on which he was feeding, when the elephant would, in the most tender manner, disengage his charge, either by lifting it out of the way with his trunk, or by removing the impediments to his free progress. If the child had crawled to such a distance as to verge upon the limits of his range,—for the animal was chained by the leg to a peg driven into the ground,—he would stretch out his trunk, and lift it back, as gently as possible, to the spot whence it had started."

The elephant is not less disposed to resent an injury than to reward a benefit. It has been frequently observed, by those who have had the charge of these animals, that they seem sensible of being ridiculed, and seldom miss an opportunity of revenging themselves for the insults they receive in this way. An artist in Paris wished to draw the elephant in the menagerie at the Jardin des Plantes in an extraordinary attitude, which was with his trunk elevated in the air, and his mouth open. An attendant on the artist, to make the elephant preserve the attitude, threw fruits into his mouth, and often pretended to throw them, without doing so. The animal became irritated, and, seeming to think that the painter was the cause of his annoyance, turned to him, and dashed a quantity of water from his trunk over the paper on which the painter was sketching the portrait.

An amusing anecdote is related, by Captain Williamson, of an elephant, which went by the name of the paugal, or fool, who, by his sagacity, showed he could act with wisdom. This animal, when on a march, refused to carry on his back a larger load than was agreeable to him, and pulled down as much of the burden as reduced it to the weight which he conceived proper for him to bear. One day, the quarter-master of brigade became enraged at this obstinacy in the animal, and threw a tent-pin at his head. A few days afterwards, as the creature was on his way from camp to water, he overtook the quarter-master, and, seizing him in his trunk, lifted him into a large tamarind-tree, which overhung the road, and left him to cling to the branches, and to get down the best way he could.

We shall conclude our anecdotes of the elephant with one which shows it in a most amiable light. The Rajah Dowlah chose once to take the diversion of hunting in the neighborhood of Lucknow, where there was a great abundance of game. The grand vizier rode his favorite elephant, and was accompanied by a train of Indian nobility. They had to pass through a ravine leading to a meadow, in which several sick persons were lying on the ground, in order to receive what benefit they could from exposure to the air and the rays of the sun. As the vizier approached with his numerous hunting party, the attendants of these sick persons betook themselves to flight, leaving the helpless patients to their fate. The nabob seriously intended to pass with his elephants over the bodies of these poor wretches. He therefore ordered the driver to goad on his beast. The elephant, as long as he had a free path, went on at full trot; but, as soon as he came to the first of the sick people, he stopped. The driver goaded him, and the vizier cursed; but in vain. "Stick the beast in the ear!" cried the nabob. It was done; but the animal remained steadfast before the helpless human creatures. At length, when the elephant saw that no one came to remove the patients, he took up one of them with his trunk, and laid him cautiously and gently to a side. He proceeded in the same way with a second and a third; and, in short, with as many as it was necessary to remove, in order to form a free passage, through which the nabob's retinue could pass without injuring any of them. How little did this noble animal deserve to be rode by such an unfeeling brute in human form!

This is among the largest of quadrupeds, being sometimes twelve feet long, and six feet high. Its body is very massive, its legs short, and its head large. The skin is extremely thick. It lives on the muddy banks of rivers in Africa, diving on the approach of danger. It eats grass, and generally feeds at night. It swims well, and walks on the bottom with ease. The negroes of Africa hunt this animal for his flesh, and when one of them is captured, it is the signal for a general feast.

Effect of Music.—The enterprising and lamented traveller Clapperton informs us that, when he was departing on a warlike expedition from Lake Muggaby, he had convincing proofs that the hippopotami are sensibly affected by musical sounds. "As the expedition passed along the banks of the lake at sunrise," says he, "these uncouth and stupendous animals followed the drums the whole length of the water, sometimes approaching so close to the shore, that the spray they spouted from their mouths reached the persons who were passing along the banks. I counted fifteen, at one time, sporting on the surface of the water."

Hunting the Hippopotamus.—Dr. Edward Russell gives us the following account of a hunt of the hippopotamus in Dongola: "One of the animals that we killed was of an enormous size. We fought with him for four good hours by night, and were very near losing our large boat, and probably our lives too, owing to the fury of the animal. As soon as he spied the huntsmen in the small canoe, he dashed at them with all his might, dragged the canoe with him under water, and smashed it to pieces. The two huntsmen escaped with difficulty. Of twenty-five musket-balls aimed at the head, only one pierced the skin, and the bones of the nose; at each snorting, the animal spouted out large streams of blood on the boat. The rest of the balls stuck in the thick hide.

"At last, we availed ourselves of a swivel; but it was not till we had discharged five balls from it, at the distance of a few feet, that the colossus gave up the ghost. The darkness of the night increased the danger of the contest; for this gigantic animal tossed our boat about in the stream at his pleasure; and it was at a fortunate moment indeed for us that he gave up the struggle, as he had carried us into a complete labyrinth of rocks, which, in the midst of the confusion, none of our crew had observed."

In common with the lion and elephant, the rhinoceros frequents the vast deserts of Asia and Africa. Its appearance is chiefly remarkable, from possessing one solid conical horn on the nose, sometimes three feet in length, and from having the skin disposed about the neck in large plaits or folds. The body of this animal is little inferior in size to the elephant, but he is much shorter in the legs; his length, from the muzzle to the tail, is nearly twelve feet, and the girth about the same measurement: from the shortness of his legs, the belly nearly touches the ground.

The rhinoceros can run with great swiftness; and, from his strength, and hard, impenetrable hide, he is capable of rushing through the thickets with resistless fury, almost every obstacle being quickly overturned in his track. There is a two-horned species in Africa, but little is known of it.

In India, the hunting of the rhinoceros is famous sport. The people go out mounted on elephants, and usually find five or six of these animals in a drove. Their hides are so thick that it is difficult to kill them. One will often receive twenty bullets before he falls. The rhinoceros attacks an elephant fearlessly, and endeavors to get his horn under him, so as to rip him open. But the elephant, finding what he would be at, turns his rear to the assailant, who gives him a hunch behind, and tumbles his huge enemy upon his knees. Then the men upon the elephants fire their guns, and pepper the thick hide of the rhinoceros with their bullets.

Anecdotes.—In the year 1790, a rhinoceros arrived in England, about five years old, and was purchased by Mr. Pidcock, of Exeter 'Change, for seven hundred pounds. He was very mild, and allowed himself to be patted on the back by strangers. He was quite obedient to the orders of his keepers, and would move through the apartment to exhibit himself. His daily allowance of food was twenty-eight pounds' weight of clover, besides an equal provision of ship bread, and a great quantity of greens; he drank five pails of water every twenty-four hours. He liked sweet wines, and was sometimes indulged with a few bottles. His voice resembled that of a calf, which he usually exerted at the sight of fruit, or any favorite food. This animal suffered much from a dislocation of the joint of one of his fore-legs, which induced inflammation, and he died nine months afterwards.

The following particulars of a rhinoceros, exhibited at Exeter 'Change, were obtained, by the late Sir Everard Home, from the person who kept him for three years. "It was so savage," says he, "that, about a month after it came, it endeavored to kill the keeper, and nearly succeeded. It ran at him with the greatest impetuosity; but, fortunately, the horn passed between his thighs, and threw the keeper on its head; the horn came against a wooden partition, into which the animal forced it to such a depth as to be unable for a minute to withdraw it; and, during this interval, the man escaped. Its skin, though apparently so hard, is only covered with small scales, of the thickness of paper, with the appearance of tortoise-shell; at the edges of these, the skin itself is exceedingly sensible, either to the bite of a fly or the lash of a whip. By discipline, the keeper got the management of it, and the animal was brought to know him; but frequently, more especially in the middle of the night, fits of frenzy came on; and, while these lasted, nothing could control its rage,—the rhinoceros running with great swiftness round the den, playing all kinds of antics, making hideous noises, knocking every thing to pieces, disturbing the whole neighborhood, and then, all at once, becoming quiet. While the fit was on, even the keeper durst not make his approach. The animal fell upon its knee when it wished to strike any object with its horn. It was quick in all its motions, ate voraciously all kinds of vegetables, appearing to have no selection. It was chiefly fed on branches of willow. Three years' confinement made no alteration in its habits."

This is the original from which all the different kinds of the tame hog have sprung. He is not subject to the varieties of the domestic races, but is uniformly of a brindled or dark gray, inclining to black. His snout is longer than that of the tame hog, his ears short, and pricked. He has formidable tusks in each jaw, sometimes nearly a foot long,—those in the upper jaw bending upwards in a circular form, exceedingly sharp, being those with which the animal defends himself, and frequently inflicts mortal wounds.

The wild boar is to be met with in various parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa. The hunting of this animal has always afforded a rather barbarous sport to the natives of the countries in which it is to be found. The season for this sport is in the beginning of winter. The huntsmen ride with the dogs, and encourage them at the same time that, by the spear, they endeavor to dishearten the boar. The weapon is generally directed towards the front of the animal's head, but cautiously; for, were the boar to seize the spear, which it attempts to do, it would wrest it from the hand of the hunter; and the latter, unless supported, would fall a victim to its strength and ferocity. There are generally more hunters than one; the boar is called off by each man as he provokes it, and the animal thus generally perishes by a series of attacks.

Anecdotes.—A boar from Ethiopia was, in 1765, sent by the governor of the Cape of Good Hope to the Prince of Orange. From confinement and attention he became tolerably mild and gentle, except when offended, in which case even those persons to whose care he was intrusted were afraid of him. In general, however, when the door of his cage was opened, he came out in perfect good-humor, frisked about in search of food, and greedily devoured whatever was given him. He was one day left alone in the court-yard for a few minutes; and, on the return of the keeper, was found busily digging into the earth, where, notwithstanding the cemented bricks of the pavement, he had made a very large hole, for the purpose, as was afterwards conceived, of reaching a common sewer that passed at a considerable depth below. When, after long confinement, he was set at liberty, for a little while he was very gay, and leaped about in an entertaining manner.

During Sparman's residence in Africa, he witnessed a curious method by which the wild hogs protected their young, when pursued. The heads of the females, which, at the commencement of the chase, had seemed of a tolerable size, appeared, on a sudden, to have grown larger and more shapeless than they were. This he found to have been occasioned by the fact, that each of the old ones, during its flight, had taken up and carried forward a young pig in its mouth; and this explained to him another subject of surprise, which was, that all the pigs he had just before been chasing with the old ones, had suddenly vanished.

The effect of domestication on the larger animals seems to be a diminution of their powers of resistance or defence, no longer necessary to their safety; and, on account of the want of free exercise, an increase of size, attended by a relaxation of the fibres and frame of the body. In this way, domestication has told with considerable disadvantage on the hog. By the diminution of the size of its tusks, and of its inclination or power to use them, it ceases to be very formidable; and by luxurious habits, by overfeeding, and indolence, the animal that fearlessly ranges the forest becomes one whose sole delight it seems to be to rise to eat, and to lie down to digest, and one whose external appearance, beyond that of any other quadruped, testifies the gluttony of its disposition and of its practices. The hog uses considerable selection in its vegetable diet, but it compensates itself for the loss which its appetite might thus sustain, by occasional recourse to animal food.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—The following statement, made a few years ago by a gentleman in Stanbridge, England, develops the carnivorous propensities which the hog sometimes discovers, even in a condition of perfect domestication,—the variety too of animals which it is inclined to devour. "I had a pig," says this writer, "of the Chinese species, a most voracious fellow; but through necessity I have lately been obliged to have him killed, finding that he endangered the safety of my rabbits, hens, and ducks. Previous to possessing him, I had a small warren of about forty yards square, walled in, and well stocked with various-colored rabbits, which I had been at infinite pains to collect. But, unfortunately, one day a rabbit having intruded into his sty, the pig immediately caught and devoured it. This having given him an opportunity of knowing the agreeable flavor of rabbit, he next day, when let out, directed his course to the warren, and soon was successful in securing another; he then returned to his sty, and consumed it with the greatest avidity.

"After this circumstance occurred, he was confined three weeks; but being again set at liberty, he immediately returned to his favorite pursuit, and, after trying various manœuvres for the space of a quarter of an hour he seized another rabbit, and was returning, when I ordered my servant to take it away. Unluckily for the servant, the pig, after trying many devices to get by him, crouched for a moment, and then, running furiously at him, seized on his leg, lacerating it so severely, that he was confined to the house for six weeks. So greedy was the pig, that, while the man was limping towards the house, he actually went back to his prey, and carried it off victoriously.

"Being at a party the next day, and relating the above, a gentleman in company appeared to doubt the veracity of the account. I asked him, with the rest of the party, to dine with me the following day, that they might witness the exploits of the creature. They all attended at an early hour. No sooner had we released him, than off he went with the most voracious eagerness, and entered the warren through a hole in the wall; but he was not quite so successful to-day, for, after making many fruitless attempts, most of the rabbits were driven to their burrows. He now seemed as we supposed, despairing of success, as he lay down amongst some furze; but, on our returning to the house, we were surprised by the cry of his victim, and, immediately turning round, saw him coming through the hole in the wall with a fine black rabbit. The gentleman who doubted the facts over-night nearly met the fate of my servant; but by actively springing over him, at the moment the furious animal was seizing his legs, he escaped unhurt. After showing his dexterity to many more gentlemen, I devised means to keep him out of the warren. The carnivorous animal then took to my ducks and hens. Still, however, I put up with his depredations while he confined himself to my own yard; but having visited a neighbor's, and killed two ducks and a favorite Guinea-hen, and much frightened the lady who went to drive him away, I was obliged to kill him the next morning."

A gamekeeper of Sir Henry Mildmay, of England, broke a black sow to find game, back, and stand to her point, nearly as steadily as a well-bred dog. The sow was a thin, long-legged animal, of the New Forest breed. When young, she manifested a great partiality for some pointer puppies; and it occurred to the gamekeeper, that, as he had often succeeded with obstinate dogs, he might attempt to break a pig. He enticed her to follow him by bits of barley-meal pudding, which he carried in one of his pockets, while the other was filled with stones, which he threw at his pupil when she misbehaved, as she would not allow herself to be caught and corrected, like a dog. Under this system she proved tolerably tractable. When she came on the cold scent of game, she slackened her trot, and gradually dropped her ears and tail till she was certain, and then fell down on her knees. As soon as the game rose, she returned, grunting, for her reward of pudding.

When the gamekeeper died, his widow sent the pig to Sir Henry Mildmay, who kept it for three years, and often amused his friends by hiding a fowl among the fern in some part of the park, and bringing out the pig, which never failed to point at it in the manner described. Some time after, a great number of lambs were lost nearly as soon as they were dropped; and a person, being sent to watch the flock, detected the sow in the act of devouring a lamb. This carnivorous propensity was ascribed to her having been accustomed to feed with the dogs on flesh; but it obliterated the memory of her singular sagacity, and she was killed for the benefit of the widow of the gamekeeper who had trained her.

This quadruped resembles the hog in shape, but is much larger. It is of a brown color, and has a long, flexible nose, somewhat like the elephant's trunk. It sleeps during the day, and goes forth at night in search of pasture, melons, and vegetables. One species is found in South America, and one in Malacca and Sumatra. It is docile, is easily tamed, and capable of strong attachments.

A young specimen of this animal was sent from Sumatra to Bengal, which became very tractable. It was allowed to roam in the park, and frequently entered the ponds, and walked along on the bottom, making no attempt to swim.

A full-grown tapir was recently at the Zoological Gardens, in London, which seemed to thrive very well. From its curious formation, and its gentle, inoffensive manners, it became an object of great attraction.

This animal is now only known in a domestic state, or, if wild, but as the offspring of domestic varieties. Most countries possess races of this animal peculiar to themselves. The finest breed is that of Arabia. The horse may be considered the most valuable of all the brute creation to man. He combines strength, speed, and docility, beyond any other animal. The wild herds in the western regions, Mexico, and South America, are sprung from horses brought into the country by the Spaniards.

The Arabian horse is a hardy animal, "left exposed," says Chateaubriand, "to the most intense heat of the sun, tied by the four legs to stakes set in the ground, and refreshed generally only once in the twenty-four hours. Yet," continues the same writer, "release his legs from the shackles, spring upon his back, and he will paw in the valley; he will rejoice in his strength; he will swallow the ground in the fierceness of his rage, and you recognize the original picture of Job."

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—The Arab has a strong affection for his horse; nor is it wonderful, when we consider that he is his support and comfort—his companion through many a dreary day and night, enduring hunger and thirst in his service. From their constant community, a kind of sociality of feeling exists between them. The terms in which he addresses his horse are thus given by Clarke: "Ibrahim went frequently to Rama to inquire news of the mare, whom he dearly loved; he would embrace her, wipe her eyes with his handkerchief, would rub her with his shirt sleeves, would give her a thousand benedictions during whole hours that he would remain talking to her. 'My eyes! my soul! my heart!' he would say; 'must I be so unfortunate as to have thee sold to many masters, and not keep thee myself? I am poor, my antelope! I brought thee up in my dwelling as a child; I did never beat nor chide thee.'" But the poverty of the Arabs, and the desire of foreigners to possess their horses, frequently compel them to do what they so much deprecate—to sell their horse. A horse he may be tempted by a large sum to part with, but to sell a mare is a heart-rending trial to an Arab. "When the envoy," says Sir John Malcolm, "was encamped near Bagdad, an Arab rode a bright bay mare, of extraordinary shape and beauty, before his tent, until he attracted his attention. On being asked if he would sell her, 'What will you give me?' was the reply. 'That depends upon her age; I suppose she is past five.' 'Guess again,' said he. 'Four?' 'Look at her mouth,' said the Arab, with a smile. On examination, she was found to be rising three. This, from her size and symmetry, greatly enhanced her value. The envoy said, 'I will give you fifty tomans,' (a coin nearly of the value of a pound sterling.) 'A little more, if you please,' said the fellow, a little entertained. 'Eighty—a hundred.' He shook his head and smiled. The officer at last came to two hundred tomans. 'Well,' said the Arab, 'you need not tempt me further. You are a rich elchee, (nobleman;) you have fine horses, camels, and mules, and I am told you have loads of silver and gold. Now,' added he, 'you want my mare; but you shall not have her for all you have got.'"

Nor does the Arabian horse fail to repay the attachment of his master. It not only flies with him over the desert, but, when he lies down to sleep, the faithful animal will browse on such herbage as is near the spot; will watch its master with solicitude; and, if a man or animal approaches, will neigh loudly till he is awakened. "When I was at Jerusalem," says Chateaubriand, "the feats of one of these steeds made a great noise. The Bedouin to whom the animal, a mare, belonged, being pursued by the governor's guards, rushed with him from the top of the hills that overlooked Jericho. The mare scoured at full gallop down an almost perpendicular declivity without stumbling, and left the soldiers lost in admiration and astonishment. The poor creature, however, dropped down dead on entering Jericho; and the Bedouin, who would not quit her, was taken, weeping over the body of his faithful companion. Ali Aga religiously showed me, in the mountains near Jericho, the footsteps of the beast that died in the attempt to save her master!"

The powers of the horse, as evinced in certain cases, appear almost incredible. At four o'clock in the morning, a gentleman was robbed at Gadshill, on the west side of Chatham, England, by a highwayman named Nicks, who rode a bay mare. Nicks set off instantly for Gravesend, where he was detained nearly an hour by the difficulty of getting a boat—an interval which he employed to advantage in baiting his horse. From thence he got to Essex and Chelmsford, where he again stopped about half an hour, to refresh his horse. He then went to Braintree, Bocking, Westerfield, and over the downs to Cambridge, and, still pursuing the cross roads, he went to Huntingdon, where he again rested about half an hour. Proceeding now on the north road, and at full gallop most of the way, he arrived at York the same afternoon, put off his boots and riding clothes, and went dressed to the bowling-green, where, among other promenaders, happened to be the lord mayor of the city. He there studied to do something particular, that his lordship might remember him, and, asking what o'clock it was, the mayor informed him that it was a quarter past eight. Upon prosecution for the robbery, the whole safety of the prisoner rested upon this point. The gentleman swore positively to the time and place; but, on the other hand, the proof was equally clear of his being at York at the time specified. The jury acquitted him on the supposed impossibility of his having got so great a distance from Kent by the time he was seen in the bowling-green. Yet it appeared afterwards that he was the robber, and had performed this feat of horsemanship to escape conviction.

Very extraordinary performances of the horse, in swimming, are on record. A violent gale of wind, at the Cape of Good Hope, setting in from north and northwest, a vessel in the road dragged her anchors, was forced on the rocks, and bilged; and, while the greater part of the crew fell an immediate sacrifice to the waves, the remainder were seen, from the shore, struggling for their lives by clinging to the different pieces of the wreck. The sea ran dreadfully high, and broke over the sailors with such amazing fury that no boat whatever could venture off to their assistance. Meanwhile a planter, considerably advanced in life, had come from his farm to be a spectator of the shipwreck. His heart melted at the sight of the unhappy seamen; and, knowing the bold and enterprising spirit of his horse, and his particular excellence as a swimmer, he instantly determined to make a desperate effort for their deliverance. He alighted, and blew a little brandy into his horse's nostrils, and again seating himself in the saddle, he instantly pushed into the midst of the breakers. At first both disappeared; but it was not long before they floated on the surface, and swam up to the wreck; when, taking with him two men, each of whom held by one of his boots, he brought them safe to shore. This perilous expedition he repeated no less than seven times, and saved fourteen lives; but, on his return the eighth time, his horse being much fatigued, and meeting a most formidable wave, he lost his balance, and was overwhelmed in a moment. The horse swam safely to land, but his gallant rider was no more!

The effects of habit and discipline upon the horse are exemplified by the following anecdotes:—An old cavalry horse has been known to stop, in the midst of a rapid gallop, on hearing the word Halt, uttered by an officer in the ranks. The Tyrolese, in one of their insurrections in 1809, took fifteen Bavarian horses, on which they mounted as many of their own soldiers. A rencounter occurring with a squadron of the regiment of Bubenhoven, these horses, on hearing the trumpet and recognizing the uniform of their corps, set off at full gallop, and carried their riders, in spite of all their resistance, into the midst of the Bavarian ranks, where they were made prisoners.

Previously to the erection of the cavalry barracks in Glasgow, the detachment of horse for the west of Scotland was sometimes divided between Hamilton and Kilmarnock. Those assigned to the latter place, having been sent to the fine grass fields in the vicinity of Loudon Castle, presented on one occasion a most striking appearance. The day was heavy and sultry; the thunder, which had at first been heard only at a distance, began to increase in loudness and frequency, and drew the marked attention of the horses. As it still became more loud, and the numerous peals, echoed along the extensive slopes of Galston Moor, crept along the water of the Irvine, or were reverberated through the woods, the horses became animated with the same enthusiasm which seizes them on hearing the rolling sounds emitted from numerous cannon. They rushed together, and, rapidly arranging themselves in their accustomed ranks, presented the front of a field of battle.

In the following case, related by Professor Kruger, of Halle, the horse has rivalled the most remarkable examples of the sagacity and fidelity of the dog. "A friend of mine," says he, "who was, one dark night, riding home through a wood, had the misfortune to strike his head against the branch of a tree, and fell from his horse stunned by the blow. The horse immediately returned to the house they had left, which stood about a mile distant. He found the door closed—the family had retired to bed. He pawed at the door, till one of them, hearing the noise, arose and opened it, and, to his surprise, saw the horse of his friend. No sooner was the door opened than the horse turned round; and the man, suspecting there was something wrong, followed the animal, which led him directly to the spot where his master lay on the ground in a fainting fit."

A horse in England, among other bad propensities, constantly resented the attempts of the groom to trim his fetlocks. This circumstance had been mentioned in a conversation, during which a young child, a very few years old, was present, when its owner defied any man to perform the operation singly. The father, next day, in passing through the stable-yard, beheld, with the utmost distress, the infant employed, with a pair of scissors, in clipping the fetlocks of the hind legs of this vicious hunter—an operation which had been always hitherto performed with great danger, even by a number of men. But the horse, in the present case, was looking with the greatest complacency on the little groom, who soon after, to the very great relief of his father, walked off unhurt.

A gentleman in Bristol had a greyhound which slept in the same stable, and contracted a very great intimacy, with a fine hunter. When the dog was taken out, the horse neighed wistfully after him; he welcomed him home with a neigh; the greyhound ran up to the horse and licked him; the horse, in return, scratched the greyhound's back with his teeth. On one occasion, when the groom had the pair out for exercise, a large dog attacked the greyhound, bore him to the ground, and seemed likely to worry him, when the horse threw back his ears, rushed forward, seized the strange dog by the back, and flung him to a distance.

That the horse is much affected by musical sounds, must be evident to every one who has paid attention to its motions, and the expression of its countenance, while listening to the performances of a military band. It is even said that, in ancient times, the Libyan shepherds were enabled to allure to them wild horses by the charms of music. That this is at least not entirely improbable, is evident from an experiment made by a gentleman, in the year 1829, on some of the Duke of Buccleuch's hunters. The horses being shy of his approach, and, indeed, retreating from it, he sounded a small musical instrument, called the mouth Eolian harp. On hearing it, they immediately erected their heads, and turned round. On his again sounding it, they approached nearer him. He began to retreat, and they to follow. Having gone over a paling, one of the horses came up to him, putting its mouth close to his breast, and seemingly delighted with the sounds which he continued to produce. As the other horses were coming up, apparently to follow the example of their more confident comrade, the gentleman retired.

A farmer in England, on his way home one evening, having drank rather hard at an alehouse, could not keep an erect position on his horse, and rolled off the animal into the road. His horse stood still; but, after remaining patiently for some time, and not perceiving any disposition in his rider to get up and proceed farther, he took him by the collar and shook him. This had little or no effect, for the farmer only gave a grumble of dissatisfaction at having his repose disturbed. The horse was not to be put off with any such evasion, and so he applied his mouth to one of his coat-laps, and after several attempts, by dragging at it, to raise him upon his feet, the coat-lap gave way. Three individuals who witnessed this extraordinary proceeding then went up, and assisted in putting him on his horse, putting the one coat-lap into the pocket of the other, when the horse trotted off and safely reached home. He was said to be very fond of his master, and to gambol with him like a dog.

As a gentleman was proceeding from a survey at Fort Augustus to his own house,—a distance of about sixteen miles,—the road became completely blocked up by snow, and nearly indiscernible. In this dilemma, he thought it best to trust to his horse, and, loosing the reins, allowed him to choose his own course. The animal made way, cautiously and slowly, till, coming to a gully or ravine, both horse and rider suddenly disappeared in a snow wreath several fathoms deep. The gentleman, on recovering, found himself nearly three yards from the dangerous spot, with his faithful horse standing over him and licking the snow from his face. He supposed that the bridle must have been attached to his person, by means of which he had been drawn out of the pit.

A cart-horse belonging to a Mr. Leggat, of Glasgow had been several times afflicted with the bots, and as often cured by a farrier by the name of Dawine. He had not, however, been troubled with that disease for a considerable time; but on a recurrence of the disorder, he happened, one morning, to be employed nearly a mile from the farrier's house. He was arranged in a row with other horses engaged in the same work, and, while the carters were absent, he went, unattended by any driver, through several streets, and up a narrow lane, when he stopped at the farrier's door. As neither Mr. Leggat nor any one else appeared with the horse, it was surmised that he had been seized with his old complaint. Being unyoked from the cart, he lay down, and showed, by every means of which he was capable, that he was in distress. He was treated as usual, and sent home to Mr. Leggat, who had by that time sent persons in all directions in search of him.

A curious instance of instinct occurred at Bristol, England, some years ago, which proves the great local memory possessed by horses. A person, apparently a townsman, recognized a horse, bestrode by a countryman, to be one which he had lost about nine months before. He seized his property, and put in his claim: "This is my horse. I will prove it in two minutes, or quit my claim." He then set the horse free, and declared his proof to be that the horse would be found at his stables, at some distance—a fact that was attested, in a few minutes, by the two claimants, and several bystanders, repairing to the stables, where they found the horse "quite at home."

The celebrated Polish General Kosciusko once wished to send some bottles of good wine to a clergyman at Solothurn; and, as he hesitated to send them by his servant, lest he should smuggle a part, he gave the commission to a young man of the name of Zeltner, and desired him to take the horse he usually rode. Young Zeltner, on returning, said that he would never ride his horse again without he gave him his purse at the same time. Kosciusko asking him what he meant, he answered, "As soon as a poor man on the road takes off his hat, and asks for charity, the horse immediately stands still, and will not stir till something is given to the petitioner; and as I had no money about me, I was obliged to make a motion as if I had given something, in order to satisfy the horse." A higher eulogy could hardly be pronounced upon the owner of the horse.

The wild horses of the western country are thus described by Mr. Catlin: "There is no other animal on the prairies so wild and sagacious as the horse, and none so difficult to come up with. So remarkably keen is their eye, that they will generally run 'at sight' a mile distant; and, when once in motion, they seldom stop short of three or four miles. I made many attempts to approach them by stealth, when they were grazing, and playing their gambols, without succeeding more than once. In this instance I left my horse, and skulked through a ravine for a couple of miles, until I was within gunshot of a fine herd of them. These were of all colors—some milk-white, some jet-black; others were sorrel, and bay, and cream color; and many were of an iron-gray. Their manes were profuse, and hanging in the wildest confusion over their faces and necks, while their long tails swept the ground."

The Camanches and other tribes of Indians capture great numbers of wild horses. The process is described by Catlin as follows: "The Indian, when he starts for a wild horse, mounts one of the fleetest he can get, and, coiling his lasso under his arm, which consists of a thong of cowhide ten or fifteen yards long, with a noose at the end of it, he starts under 'full whip' till he can enter the drove, when he soon gets the noose over the neck of one of them. He then dismounts, leaving his own horse, and runs as fast as he can, letting the lasso pass out gradually and carefully through his hands, until the horse falls for want of breath, and lies helpless on the ground. The Indian then advances slowly towards his head, keeping the lasso tight upon his neck, until he fastens a pair of hobbles on his two fore feet, and also loosens the lasso, and moves it round the under jaws; by which he gets great power over the affrighted animal, which is constantly rearing and plunging. He then advances, hand over hand, towards the horse's nose, and places one hand over his eyes; he then breathes in his nostrils, when he soon becomes conquered and docile, and allows himself to be led or ridden to the camp."

It appears that horses are subject to a kind of panic, which in the western prairies is called stampede. The instances of this frenzy, as described by travellers, sometimes present the most terrific spectacles. Mr. Kendall, in his "Narrative," gives us the following lively sketch:—

"As there was no wood about our camping-ground, some half a dozen men pushed on in search of it. One of them had a wild, half-broken Mexican horse, naturally vicious, and with difficulty mastered. His rider found a small, dry tree, cut it down with a hatchet, and very imprudently made it fast to his horse's tail by means of a rope. The animal took it unkindly from the first, and dragged his strange load with evident symptoms of fright; but when within a few hundred yards of the camp, he commenced pitching, and finally set off into a gallop, with the cause of all his uneasiness and fear still fast to his tail. His course was directly for the camp; and, as he sped along the prairie, it was evident that our horses were stricken with a panic at his approach. At first they would prick up their ears, snort, and trot majestically about in circles; then they would dash off at the top of their speed, and no human power could arrest their mad career.

"'A stampede!' shouted some of the old campaigners,—a stampede! Look out for your horses, or you'll never see them again,' was heard on every side. Fortunately for us, the more intractable horses had been not only staked, but hobbled, before the panic became general, and were secured with little difficulty; else we might have lost half of them. Frequent instances have occurred where a worthless horse has occasioned the loss of hundreds of valuable animals.

"Nothing can exceed the grandeur of the scene when a large cavallada, or drove of horses, takes a 'scare.' Old, weather-beaten, time-worn, and broken-down steeds—horses that have nearly given out from hard work and old age—will at once be transformed into wild and prancing colts. With heads erect, tails and manes streaming in the air, eyes lit up, and darting beams of fright,—old and jaded hacks will be seen prancing and careering about with all the buoyancy which characterizes the action of young colts. Then some one of the drove, more frightened than the rest, will dash off in a straight line, the rest scampering after him, and apparently gaining fresh fear at every jump. The throng will then sweep along the plain with a noise which may be likened to something between a tornado and an earthquake; and as well might feeble man attempt to arrest the earthquake as the stampede."

This is a variety of the horse—its small stature being the result of the climate in which it is bred. The most remarkable kinds are produced in Wales, the Highlands of Scotland, and the Shetland Isles.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—One afternoon in September, a gentleman in England, mounted on a favorite old shooting pony, had beaten for game all day without meeting with any success, when, on a sudden, to his great astonishment, his pony stopped short, and he could not persuade him to move, either by whip or spur. He desired his keeper to go forward. He did. A covey of fifteen partridges rose. They were, of course, killed by the astonished sportsman. The pony had been accustomed to carry his master for many years on shooting expeditions, and had, no doubt, acquired a knowledge of the scent of birds.

A little girl, the daughter of a gentleman in Warwickshire, England, playing one day on the banks of a canal which ran through the grounds, had the misfortune to fall in, and in all probability would have been drowned, had not a little pony, which was grazing near, and which had been kept by the family many years, plunged into the stream, and, taking the child up by her clothes, brought her safely to shore without the slightest injury.

A gentleman was some time since presented with a Shetland pony, which was only seven hands in height, and very docile and beautiful. He was anxious to convey his present home as soon as possible, but, being at a considerable distance, he was at a loss how to do so easily. The friend who presented it to him said, "Can you not convey him home in your chaise?" He accordingly made the experiment. The pony was lifted into the bottom of the gig, and covered up with the boot—some bits of bread being given him, to keep him quiet. He lay quite peaceably till his master had reached his place of destination; thus exhibiting the novel spectacle of a horse riding in a gig.

A pony mare belonging to Mr. Evans, of Montgomeryshire, England, had a colt, and they both grazed in a field adjoining the River Severn. One day, the pony made her appearance in front of the house, making a clattering with her feet, and other noises, to attract attention. Observing this, a person went out, and the pony immediately galloped off. Mr. Evans desired he should be followed. On reaching the field, the pony was found looking into the river, where the colt was drowned.

When the ass is brought into comparison with the horse, in respect to external form, every thing appears to be in favor of the latter animal. The ass is inferior to the horse in size, less sprightly in its motions, its head is heavy, and it stoops in its gait. The horse generally moves with its head erect, looks freely abroad on the skies and earth, with an eye expressive of lively emotions. The ass is seen trudging slowly along, as if sensible of the hopelessness of a cessation from toil; and, full of melancholy thoughts, its leaden eye is fixed on the ground. Yet its shape and its habits, in its state of servitude, present something that is pleasing, though, on the whole, they are somewhat untoward and ungainly.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—The ass is far from being incapable of understanding the nature of the employments in which he is engaged, or disobedient to the commands of his master. An ass was employed, at Carisbrook, in the Isle of Wight, in drawing water by a large wheel from a deep well, supposed to have been sunk by the Romans. When his keeper wanted water, he would call the ass by his name, saying, "I want water; get into the wheel;" which wish the ass immediately complied with; and there can be no doubt but that he knew the precise number of times necessary for the wheel to revolve upon its axis in order to complete his labor; for every time he brought the bucket to the surface of the well, he stopped and turned round his head to observe the moment when his master laid hold of the bucket to draw it towards him, because he had then a nice motion to make either slightly forward or backward, as the situation of the bucket might require.

In 1816, an ass belonging to Captain Dundas was shipped on board the Ister, bound from Gibraltar to Malta. The vessel struck on a sand-bank off the Point de Gat, and the ass was thrown overboard into a sea which was so stormy that a boat that soon after left the ship was lost. In the course of a few days, when the gates of Gibraltar were opened in the morning, the guard was surprised by the same ass, which had so recently been removed, presenting itself for admittance. On entering, it proceeded immediately to the stable which it had formerly occupied. The ass had not only swam to the shore, but found its own way from Point de Gat to Gibraltar, a distance of more than two hundred miles, through a mountainous and intricate country intersected by streams, which it had never passed before, but which it had now crossed so expeditiously that it must have gone by a route leading the most directly to Gibraltar.

A few years ago, at Swalwell, England, a man set his bull-dog to attack an ass, that for a while gallantly defended itself with its heels, which it was agile enough to keep presented to the dog. Suddenly turning round on its adversary, it caught it with its teeth, in such a manner that the dog was unable to retaliate. It then dragged the assailant to the River Derwent, into which it plunged it overhead, and lying down upon it, kept it in the water till it was drowned.

Though the ass is frequently the subject of ill treatment, yet it seems to be an animal not without affection for its master, which in many cases we may suppose to be returned by kindness and care on his part. A pleasing instance to this effect we have in the following anecdote: "An old man, who some time ago sold vegetables in London, had an ass which carried his baskets from door to door. He frequently gave the poor industrious creature a handful of hay, or some pieces of bread or greens, by way of refreshment and reward. The old man had no need of any goad for the animal, and seldom, indeed, had he to lift up his hand to drive it on. His kind treatment was one day remarked to him, and he was asked whether the beast was not apt to be stubborn. 'Ah!' he said, 'it is of no use to be cruel; and as for stubbornness, I cannot complain, for he is ready to do any thing or go any where. I bred him myself. He is sometimes skittish and playful, and once ran away from me: you will hardly believe it, but there were more than fifty people after him, attempting in vain to stop him; yet he turned back of himself, and never stopped till he ran his head kindly into my bosom.'"

The following is a pleasing anecdote of the sagacity of the ass, and the attachment displayed by the animal to his master. Thomas Brown travelled in England as a pedler, having an ass the partner of his trade. From suffering under paralysis, he was in the habit of assisting himself on the road by keeping hold of the crupper of the saddle, or more frequently the tail of the ass. During a severe winter some years ago, whilst on one of his journeys, the old man and his ass were suddenly plunged into a wreath of snow. There they lay far from help, and ready to perish.

At last, after a severe struggle, the poor ass got out; but, finding his unfortunate master absent, he eyed the snow-bank some time with a wistful look, and at last forced his way through it to where his master lay, when, placing his body in such a position as to allow him to lay a firm hold on his tail, the honest pedler was enabled to grasp it, and was actually dragged out by the faithful beast to a place of safety!

The zebra possesses some of the characteristics of the horse;—smaller in size, it strongly resembles it in the shape of its body, its head, its limbs, and its hoofs. It moves in the same paces, with a similar activity and swiftness. But it discovers none of that docility which has rendered the services of the horse so invaluable to man. On the contrary, it is proverbially untamable; it is ever the most wild even among those ferocious animals which are ranged in the menagerie, and it preserves in its countenance the resolute determination never to submit.

In the year 1803, General Dundas brought a female zebra from the Cape of Good Hope, which was deposited in the Tower, and there showed less than the usual impatience of subordination. The person who had accompanied her home, and attended her there, would sometimes spring on her back, and proceed thus for about two hundred yards, when she would become restive, and oblige him to dismount. She was very irritable, and would kick at her keeper. One day she seized him with her teeth, threw him down, and showed an intention to destroy him, which he disappointed by rapidly extricating himself. She generally kicked in all directions with her feet, and had a propensity to seize with her teeth whatever offended her. Strangers she would not allow to approach her, unless the keeper held her fast by the head, and even then she was very prone to kick.

The most docile zebra on record was burnt at the Lyceum, near Exeter 'Change. This animal allowed its keeper to use great familiarities with it,—to put children on its back, without discovering any resentment. On one occasion, a person rode it from the Lyceum to Pimlico. It had been bred in Portugal, and was the offspring of parents half reclaimed.

The zebra of the plain differs from the other species in having the ground color of the body white, the mane alternately striped with black and white, and the tail of a yellowish white. A specimen of this animal was a few years since in the Tower of London, where it was brought to a degree of tameness seldom reached by the other variety. It ran peaceably about the Tower, with a man by its side, whom it did not attempt to leave except for the purpose of breaking off to the canteen, where it was sometimes regaled with a glass of ale, a liquor for which it discovered a considerable fondness.

Of this quadruped there are two species, the dromedary, and the Bactrian camel, which has two hunches on the back. It has been used from the earliest ages, and is one of the most useful of all the animals over which the inhabitants of Asia and Africa have acquired dominion. These continents are intersected by vast tracts of burning sand, the seats of desolation and drought; but by means of the camel, the most dreary wastes are traversed. The camel's great strength, and astonishing powers of abstinence both from food and drink, render it truly invaluable in these inhospitable countries. Denon tells us that, in crossing the Arabian Desert, a single feed of beans is all their food for a day. Their usual meal is a few dates, or some small balls of barleymeal, or, occasionally, the dry and thorny plants they meet with, at remote intervals, during their progress across the desert. With these scanty meals, the contented creature will lie down to rest amid the scorching sands, without exhibiting either exhaustion or a desire for better fare. Well may the Arab call the camel "the ship of the desert!"

Mr. McFarlane says, "I have been told that the Arabs will kiss their camels, in gratitude and affection, after a journey across the deserts. I never saw the Turks, either of Asia Minor or Roumelia, carry their kindness so far as this; but I have frequently seen them pat their camels when the day's work was done, and talk to them on their journey, as if to cheer them. The camels appeared to me quite as sensible to favor and gentle treatment as is a well-bred horse. I have seen them curve and twist their long, lithe necks as their driver approached, and often put down their tranquil heads toward his shoulder. Near Smyrna, and at Magnesia and Sardes, I have occasionally seen a camel follow his master like a pet dog, and go down on his knees before him, as if inviting him to mount. I never saw a Turk ill-use the useful, gentle, amiable quadruped; but I have frequently seen him give it a portion of his own dinner, when, in unfavorable places, it had nothing but chopped straw to eat. I have sometimes seen the devidjis, on a hot day, or in passing a dry district, spirt a little water in the camels' nostrils; they pretend it refreshes them."

The same writer says that, upon his first camel adventure, he was so taken by surprise by the creature's singular rising behind, that he was thrown over his head, to the infinite amusement of the Turks, who were laughing at his inexperience. "I was made acquainted with this peculiarity of the animal's movement, in a striking manner, the first time I mounted a camel out of curiosity. I ought to have known better—and, indeed, did know better; but when he was about to rise, from old habits associated with the horse, I expected he would throw out his fore legs, and I threw myself forward accordingly—when up sprang his hind legs, and clean I went over his ears, to the great delight of the devidjis."

The following interesting story of the sufferings of a caravan, from thirst, is related by Burckhardt: "In the month of August, a small caravan prepared to set out from Berber to Daraou. They consisted of five merchants and about thirty slaves, with a proportionate number of camels. Afraid of the robber Naym, who at that time was in the habit of waylaying travellers about the wells of Nedjeym, and who had constant intelligence of the departure of every caravan from Berber, they determined to take a more easterly road, by the well of Owareyk. They had hired an Ababde guide, who conducted them in safety to that place, but who lost his way from thence northward, the route being little frequented. After five days' march in the mountains, their stock of water was exhausted, nor did they know where they were. They resolved, therefore, to direct their course towards the setting sun, hoping thus to reach the Nile. After experiencing two days' thirst, fifteen slaves and one of the merchants died: another of them, an Ababde, who had ten camels with him, thinking that the animals might know better than their masters where water was to be found, desired his comrades to tie him fast upon the saddle of his strongest camel, that he might not fall down from weakness; and thus he parted from them, permitting his camels to take their own way; but neither the man nor his camels were ever heard of afterwards. On the eighth day after leaving Owareyk, the survivors came in sight of the mountains of Shigre, which they immediately recognized; but their strength was quite exhausted, and neither men nor beasts were able to move any farther. Lying down under a rock, they sent two of their servants, with the two strongest remaining camels, in search of water. Before these two men could reach the mountain, one of them dropped off his camel, deprived of speech, and able only to move his hands to his comrade, as a sign that he desired to be left to his fate. The survivor then continued his route; but such was the effect of thirst upon him, that his eyes grew dim, and he lost the road, though he had often travelled over it before, and had been perfectly acquainted with it. Having wandered about for a long time, he alighted under the shade of a tree, and tied the camel to one of its branches; the beast, however, smelt the water, (as the Arabs express it,) and, wearied as it was, broke its halter, and set off galloping in the direction of the spring, which, as afterwards appeared, was at half an hour's distance. The man, well understanding the camel's action, endeavored to follow its footsteps, but could only move a few yards; he fell exhausted on the ground, and was about to breathe his last, when Providence led that way, from a neighboring encampment, a Bisharye Bedouin, who, by throwing water upon the man's face, restored him to his senses. They then went hastily together to the water, filled their skins, and, returning to the caravan, had the good fortune to find the sufferers still alive. The Bisharye received a slave for his trouble."

Of this genus there are many species, as the elk, moose, stag, fallow-deer, reindeer, &c. They are characterized by timidity, a love of retirement in the solitudes of the forest, a general capacity for domestication, and great swiftness of foot.

The Moose.—In the immense forests of North America, this animal is hunted by the Indians with such relentless perseverance, that all its instincts are called forth for the preservation of its existence. Tanner tells us that, "in the most violent storm, when the wind, the thunder, and the falling timber, are making the loudest and most incessant roar, if a man, either with his foot or hand, breaks the smallest dry limb in the forest, the moose will hear it; and though he does not always run, he ceases eating, and gives all his attention to the sounds he may hear, and he does not relax this till after three or four hours of the keenest vigilance."

The American Elk.—This stately creature is easily domesticated, and will then come at the call of his master, follow him to a distance from home, and return with him quietly. Although of a gentle disposition, instances have occurred of its turning upon its pursuers. A wounded one was once known to turn and face a hunter in the woods of Canada; the man was found next day pounded to a jelly, his bones being broken to pieces; the deer, having exhausted its fury, was found dead by his side.

The Red Deer.—The stag is said to love music, and to show great delight at hearing any one sing. If a person happens to whistle, or call some one at a distance, the creature stops short, and gazes upon the stranger with a kind of silent admiration; and if he perceives neither fire-arms nor dogs, he slowly approaches him with apparent unconcern. He seems highly delighted with the sound of the shepherd's pipe. Playford says, "Travelling some years since, I met, on the road near Royston, a herd of about twenty bucks, following a bagpipe and violin. While the music continued, they proceeded; when it ceased, they all stood still."

Brown tells us the following story: "As Captain Smith, of the Bengal Native Infantry, was out in the country with a shooting party, very early in the morning, they observed a tiger steal out of a jungle in pursuit of a herd of deer. Having selected one as his object, it was quickly deserted by the herd. The tiger advanced with such amazing swiftness that the stag in vain attempted to escape, and, at the moment the gentleman expected to see the fatal spring, the deer gallantly faced his enemy, and for some minutes kept him at bay; and it was not till after three attacks that the tiger succeeded in securing his prey. He was supposed to have been considerably injured by the horns of the stag, as, on the advance of Captain Smith, he abandoned the carcass, having only sucked the blood from the throat."

The following circumstances are mentioned by Delacroix: "When I was at Compiegne," says he, "my friends took me to a German who exhibited a wonderful stag. As soon as we had taken our seats in a large room, the stag was introduced. He was of an elegant form and majestic stature, his aspect at once animated and gentle. The first trick he performed was, to make a profound obeisance to the company, as he entered, by bowing his head; after which he paid his respects to each individual of us in the same manner. He next carried about a small stick in his mouth, to each end of which a small wax taper was attached. He was then blindfolded, and, at the beat of a drum, fell upon his knees, and laid his head upon the ground. As soon as the word pardon was pronounced, he instantly sprang upon his feet. Dice were thrown upon the head of a drum, and he told the numbers that were cast up, by bowing his head so many times. He discharged a pistol, by drawing with his teeth a string that was tied to the trigger. He fired a small cannon by means of a match that was fastened to his right foot, without showing any signs of fear. He leaped several times, with the greatest agility, through a hoop, which his master held at a man's height from the ground. At length the exhibition was closed with his eating a handful of oats from the head of a drum, which a person was beating the whole time with the utmost violence. Almost every trick was performed with as much steadiness as it could have been accomplished by the best-trained dog."

At Wonersh, near Guildford, the seat of Lord Grantley, a fawn was drinking in the lake, when one of the swans suddenly flew upon it, and pulled the poor animal into the water, where it held it under till it was drowned. This act of atrocity was noticed by the other deer in the park, and they took care to revenge it the first opportunity. A few days after, this swan, happening to be on land, was surrounded and attacked by the whole herd, and presently killed. Before this time, they were never known to molest the swans.

The Virginia Deer.—A young gentleman, in Bath, Virginia, killed two large bucks, the horns of which were so interlocked that they could not disengage themselves. There is no doubt that they had had a combat; and, from observations made by the sportsman, he supposed them to have been in that condition several days. The horns were so securely fastened that, he could not separate them without breaking off one of the prongs. The bucks were killed at two shots, and the one which escaped the first ball carried the other a hundred yards before he met his death.

A farmer in the state of Kentucky domesticated a female deer, but lost her during the whole spring and summer. After an absence of several months, she returned with a fawn at her side, and, on her arrival, seemed to take great pleasure in showing her young one.

The Virginia deer is said by the hunters to evince a strong degree of animosity towards serpents, and especially to the rattlesnake. In order to destroy one of these creatures, the deer makes a bound into the air, and alights upon the serpent with all four feet brought together in a square, and these violent blows are repeated till the hated reptile is destroyed.

The Reindeer.—This animal, as is well known, is the great resource of the Laplanders, to whom it furnishes most of the necessaries of life. Two or three varieties are found in the polar regions of the American continent. "They visit the Arctic shores," says Captain Lyon, "at the latter end of May or the early part of June, and remain until late in September. On his first arrival, the animal is thin, and his flesh is tasteless; but the short summer is sufficient to fatten him. When feeding on the level ground, an Esquimaux makes no attempt to approach him; but should a few rocks be near, the wary hunter feels secure of his prey. Behind one of these he cautiously creeps, and, having laid himself very close, with his bow and arrow before him, imitates the bellow of the deer when calling to its mate. Sometimes, for more complete deception, the hunter wears his deer-skin coat and hood so drawn over his head, as to resemble, in a great measure, the unsuspecting animals he is enticing. Though the bellow proves a considerable attraction, yet if a man has great patience, he may do without it, and may be equally certain that his prey will ultimately come to examine him; the reindeer being an inquisitive animal, and at the same time so silly, that, if he sees any suspicious object which is not actually chasing him, he will gradually, and after many caperings, and forming repeated circles, approach nearer and nearer to it.

"The Esquimaux rarely shoot until the creature is within twelve paces, and I have frequently been told of their being killed at a much shorter distance. It is to be observed that the hunters never appear openly, but employ stratagem for their purpose—thus by patience and ingenuity rendering their rudely-formed bows, and still worse arrows, as effective as the rifles of Europeans. When two men hunt in company, they sometimes purposely show themselves to the deer, and when his attention is fully engaged, walk slowly away from him, one before the other. The deer follows, and when the hunters arrive near a stone, the foremost drops behind it, and prepares his bow, while his companion continues walking steadily forward. This latter the deer still follows unsuspectingly, and thus passes near the concealed man, who takes a deliberate aim, and kills him."

This animal, the tallest of quadrupeds, is found in the interior of Africa. Its height is about seventeen feet. It is of a fawn color, marked with dark spots. Its neck is slender, its head gracefully formed, and its eyes soft, yet animated. It associates in small troops, and feeds upon the twigs and leaves of trees.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—Some years ago, a giraffe was sent from Egypt to Constantinople. Its keeper used to exercise it in an open square, where the Turks used to flock daily, in great crowds, to see the extraordinary animal. Seeing how inoffensive it was, and how domesticated it became, the keeper used to take it with him through the city, and, whenever he appeared, a number of friendly hands were held out of the latticed windows to offer it something to eat. The women were particularly attentive to it. When it came to a house where it had been well treated, if no one was at the window, it would tap gently against the wooden lattice, as if to announce its visit. It was extremely docile and affectionate; and, if left to itself it always frequented the streets where it had the most and best friends.

The giraffe has become familiar to us, in the menageries, of late years; but half a century ago, its very existence was doubted. Le Vaillant was the first to dissipate the mystery which enveloped it. His account of his success in killing one, is given in the following glowing terms: "The 18th of November was the happiest day of my life. By sunrise I was in pursuit of game, in the hope to obtain some provision for my men. After several hours' fatigue, we descried, at the turn of a hill, seven giraffes, which my pack instantly pursued. Six of them went off together; but the seventh, cut off by my dogs, took another way. Bernfry was walking by the side of his horse; but in the twinkling of an eye, he was in the saddle, and pursued the six. For myself, I followed the single one at full speed; but, in spite of the efforts of my horse, she got so much ahead of me, that, in turning a little hill, I lost sight of her altogether; and I gave up the pursuit. My dogs, however, were not so easily exhausted. They were soon so close upon her, that she was obliged to stop, to defend herself. From the place where I was, I heard them give tongue with all their might; and, as their voices appeared all to come from the same spot, I conjectured that they had got the animal in a corner; and I again pushed forward. I had scarcely got round the hill, when I perceived her surrounded by the dogs, and endeavoring to drive them away by heavy kicks. In a moment I was on my feet, and a shot from my carbine brought her to the earth. Enchanted with my victory, I returned to call my people about me, that they might assist in skinning and cutting up the animal. Whilst I was looking for them, I saw one of my men, who kept making signals which I could not comprehend. At length, I went the way he pointed; and, to my surprise, saw a giraffe standing under a large ebony-tree, assailed by my dogs. It was the animal I had shot, who had staggered to this place; and it fell dead at the moment I was about to take a second shot. Who could have believed that a conquest like this would have excited me to a transport almost approaching to madness! Pains, fatigues, cruel privation, uncertainty as to the future, disgust sometimes as to the past,—all these recollections and feelings fled at the sight of this new prey. I could not satisfy my desire to contemplate it. I measured its enormous height. I looked from the animal to the instrument which had destroyed it. I called and recalled my people about me. Although we had combated together the largest and most dangerous animals, it was I alone who had killed the giraffe. I was now able to add to the riches of natural history. I was now able to destroy the romance which attached to this animal, and to establish a truth. My people congratulated me on my triumph. Bernfry alone was absent; but he came at last, walking at a slow pace, and holding his horse by the bridle. He had fallen from his seat, and injured his shoulder. I heard not what he said to me. I saw not that he wanted assistance; I spoke to him only of my victory. He showed me his shoulder; I showed him my giraffe. I was intoxicated, and I should not have thought even of my own wounds."

Of this animal there are many species, some wild and some domestic. They seem to be a link between the sheep and antelope, and to partake of the qualities of both. In some European countries, goat's milk is used, by the poor, as a substitute for that of the cow.

Anecdotes.—A person in Scotland having missed one of his goats when his flock came home at night, being afraid the wanderer would get among the young trees in his nursery, two boys, wrapped in their plaids, were ordered to watch all night. The morning had but faintly dawned, when they sprang up the brow of a hill in search of her. They could but just discern her on a pointed rock far off, and, hastening to the spot, perceived her standing with a newly-dropped kid, which she was defending from a fox. The enemy turned round and round to lay hold of his prey, but the goat presented her horns in every direction. The youngest boy was despatched to get assistance to attack the fox, and the eldest, hallooing and throwing up stones, sought to intimidate him as he climbed to rescue his charge. The fox seemed well aware that the child could not execute his threats; he looked at him one instant, and then renewed the assault, till, quite impatient, he made a resolute effort to seize the kid. Suddenly the whole three disappeared, and were soon found at the bottom of the precipice. The goat's horns were fast into the back of the fox; the kid lay stretched beside her. It is supposed the fox had fixed his teeth in the kid, for its neck was lacerated; but when the faithful mother inflicted a death-wound upon her mortal enemy, he probably staggered, and brought his victims with him over the rock.

Dr. Clarke, in his "Travels in Palestine," relates the following: "Upon our road we met an Arab with a goat, which he led about the country for exhibition, in order to gain a livelihood. He had taught this animal, while he accompanied its movements with a song, to mount upon little cylindrical blocks of wood, placed successively one above the other, and in shape resembling the dice-boxes belonging to a backgammon-table. In this manner, the goat stood first on the top of one cylinder, and then upon the top of two, and afterwards of three, four, five, and six, until it remained balanced upon the top of them all, elevated several feet from the ground, and with its feet collected upon a single point, without throwing down the disjointed fabric upon which it stood. The diameter of the upper cylinder, on which its feet ultimately remained until the Arab had ended his ditty, was only two inches, and the length of each was six inches."

We are told by a late traveller that the Spaniards do not milk, and then distribute to their customers, in the same manner as with us, but drive their flock of goats to the residence of each customer, and then milk and furnish according to contract. "I was looking out of the window of the dining-room of my hotel one morning; there were at least forty goats, young and old, and the old man who managed the affair seemed hard pushed to get our regular supply. He had to go over the whole flock once, and some twice, before he could completely fulfil his contract. After carrying in his milk, he came to the door and uttered a few Spanish words, and in an instant the whole moved off, the herdsman bringing up the rear. They moved at the word of command much quicker, and marched off in better order, than do our militia."

Of this useful creature there are many varieties, all of which are supposed to have sprung from the argali, which is found in Asia, Europe, and America.

Anecdotes.—The house of the celebrated Dr. Cotton, of Massachusetts, stood on an eminence, with a garden sloping down in front, filled with fruit-trees. At the foot of the garden was a fence, and in a straight line with the fence was an old well-curb. Mr. Cotton kept a great many sheep, and one day these uneasy creatures took it into their heads to get a taste of their master's fruit. But the minister had another mind about the matter, and sallied out to chastise the marauders. These were very much alarmed; and, according to their usual habit, all followed their leader to escape. The well-curb being the lowest part of the barrier which presented itself to the retreating animal, over he leaped, and down he went to the very bottom of the well, and after him came several of his followers, till it was in danger of being choked up by the silly sheep. Dr. Cotton leaped over the barrier himself, and prevented the rest from destruction. As for those in the well, they humbly stretched out their forefeet to their master, and bleated piteously, as if petitioning him to release them. "Don't be in haste," quietly replied the good pastor: "wait patiently till I go to the house for a rope—then I will try to save you." He was as good as his word; he fastened the rope around their bodies, and drew them one by one out of the water.

"There are few things," says Hogg, "more amusing than a sheep-shearing. We send out all the lambs to the hill, and then, as fast as the ewes are shorn, we send them to find their young ones. The moment that a lamb hears its dam's voice, it rushes from the crowd to meet her; but instead of finding the rough, well-clad, comfortable mamma, which it left a few hours ago, it meets a poor, naked, shivering, most deplorable-looking creature. It wheels about, and, uttering a loud, tremulous bleat of despair, flies from the frightful vision. The mother's voice arrests its flight—it returns—flies and returns again—generally for a dozen times, before the reconciliation is fairly made up."

The following pleasing anecdote of the power of music is given by the celebrated Haydn: "In my early youth," says he, "I went with some other young people equally devoid of care, one morning during the extreme heat of summer, to seek for coolness and fresh air on one of the lofty mountains which surround the Lago Maggiore, in Lombardy. Having reached the middle of the ascent by daybreak, we stopped to contemplate the Borromean Isles, which were displayed under our feet, in the middle of the lake, when we were surrounded by a large flock of sheep, which were leaving their fold to go to the pasture.

"One of our party, who was no bad performer on the flute, and who always carried the instrument with him, took it out of his pocket. 'I am going,' said he, 'to turn Corydon; let us see whether Virgil's sheep will recognize their pastor.' He began to play. The sheep and goats, which were following one another towards the mountain, with their heads hanging down, raised them at the first sound of the flute, and all, with a general and hasty movement, turned to the side from whence the agreeable noise proceeded. They gradually flocked round the musician, and listened with motionless attention. He ceased playing, and the sheep did not stir.

"The shepherd with his staff now obliged them to move on; but no sooner did the fluter begin again to play, than his innocent auditors again returned to him. The shepherd, out of patience, pelted them with clods of earth, but not one of them would move. The fluter played with additional skill; the shepherd fell into a passion, whistled, scolded, and pelted the poor creatures with stones. Such as were hit by them began to march, but the others still refused to stir. At last, the shepherd was forced to entreat our Orpheus to stop his magic sounds; the sheep then moved off, but continued to stop at a distance as often as our friend resumed the agreeable instrument.

"The tune he played was nothing more than a favorite air, at that time performing at the Opera in Milan. As music was our continual employment, we were delighted with our adventure; we reasoned upon it the whole day, and concluded that physical pleasure is the basis of all interest in music."

A gentleman, while passing through a lonely district of the Highlands, observed a sheep hurrying towards the road before him, and bleating most piteously. On approaching nearer, it redoubled its cries, looked in his face, and seemed to implore his assistance. He alighted, left his gig, and followed the sheep to a field in the direction whence it came. There, in a solitary cairn, at a considerable distance from the road, the sheep halted, and the traveller found a lamb completely wedged in betwixt two large stones of the cairn, and struggling feebly with its legs uppermost. He instantly extricated the sufferer, and placed it on the greensward, while the mother poured forth her thanks and joy in a long-continued and significant strain.

There are many varieties of the domestic ox or cow, all of which are supposed to have sprung from a species still found wild in Europe and Asia. The herds of wild cattle in North and South America are the progeny of animals brought hither by the Spanish settlers.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—The following account is from the journal of a Sante Fe trader: "Our encampment was in a beautiful plain. Our cattle were shut up in the pen with the wagons; and our men were, with the exception of the guard, all wrapped in a peaceful slumber,—when all of a sudden, about midnight, a tremendous uproar was heard, which caused every man to start in terror from his couch, with arms in hand. Some animal, it appeared, had taken fright at a dog, and, by a sudden start, set all around him in violent motion. The panic spread simultaneously through the pen; and a scene of rattle, clash, and 'lumbering' succeeded, which far surpassed every thing we had yet witnessed. A general stampede was the result. Notwithstanding the wagons were tightly bound together, wheel to wheel, with ropes or chains, the oxen soon burst their way out; and, though mostly yoked in pairs, they went scampering over the plains. All attempts to stop them were in vain; but early the next morning we set out in search of them, and recovered all the oxen, except half a dozen." Similar cases of panic are frequently described by travellers upon the western prairies.

The cattle of South America, especially in the neighborhood of Buenos Ayres, are said to give indications of approaching rain, before the signs of it are visible in the atmosphere. A traveller relates that, in passing from this place, the weather had been long dry, almost every spring had failed, and the negroes were sent in all directions to discover fountains. Soon after, the cattle began to stretch their necks to the west, and to snuff in a singular manner through their noses, which they held very high in the air. Not a cloud was then seen, nor the slightest breath of wind felt. But the cattle proceeded, as if seized with a sudden madness, to scamper about, then to gather together, squeezing closer and closer, and snuffing as before. While he was wondering what was to be the result of such extravagant motions, a black cloud rose above the mountains, thunder and lightning followed, the rain fell in torrents, and the cattle were soon enabled to quench their thirst on the spot where they stood.

There are many anecdotes which show that the ox, or cow, has a musical ear. The carts in Corunna, in Spain, make so loud and disagreeable a creaking with their wheels, for the want of oil, that the governor once issued an order to have them greased; but the carters petitioned that this might not be done, as the oxen liked the sound, and would not draw so well without their accustomed music.

Professor Bell assures us that he has often, when a boy, tried the effect of the flute on cows, and has always observed that it produced great apparent enjoyment. Instances have been known of the fiercest bulls being calmed into gentleness by music.

"There was a piper had a cow,

And nothing had to give her:

He took his pipe and played a tune—

'Consider, cow, consider.'"

A correspondent of the Penny Magazine says that, while on a visit to the country-house of a lady, it one day happened that they were passing the cow-house just at the time when the dairymaid was driving home the cows, to be milked. They all passed in quietly enough, with the exception of one, which stood lowing at the door, and resisted every effort of the dairymaid to induce her to enter. When the maid was interrogated as to the cause of this obstinacy, she attributed it to pride; and when surprise was expressed at this, she explained that, whenever any of the other cows happened to get before her, this particular cow would seem quite affronted, and would not enter at all, unless the others were turned out again. This statement having excited curiosity, the maid was desired to redouble her exertions to induce the cow to enter; on which she chased the animal through every corner of the yard, but without success, until she at last desisted, from want of breath, declaring that there was no other remedy than to turn out the other cows. She was then permitted to make the experiment; and no sooner were the others driven out, than in walked the gratified cow, with a stately air—her more humble-minded companions following in her rear.

This animal is peculiar to North America, and wanders in vast herds over the western plains. They are much attracted by the soft, tender grass, which springs up after a fire has spread over the prairie. In winter, they scrape away the snow with their feet, to reach the grass. The bulls and cows live in separate herds for the greater part of the year; but at all seasons, one or two bulls generally accompany a large herd of cows. The bison is in general a shy animal, and takes to flight instantly on winding an enemy, which the acuteness of its sense of smell enables it to do from a great distance. They are less wary when they are assembled together in numbers, and will then often blindly follow their leaders, regardless of, or trampling down, the hunters posted in their way. It is dangerous for the sportsman to show himself after having wounded one, for it will pursue him, and, although its gait may be heavy and awkward, it will have no difficulty in overtaking the fleetest runner.

Anecdotes.—Many instances might be mentioned of the pertinacity with which this animal pursues his revenge. We are told of a hunter having been detained for many hours in a tree by an old bull, which had taken its post below, to watch him. When it contends with a dog, it strikes violently with its fore feet, and in that way proves more than a match for an English bull-dog. The favorite Indian method of killing the bison, is by riding up to the fattest of the herd on horseback, and shooting it with an arrow. When a large party of hunters are engaged in this way, the spectacle is very imposing, and the young men have many opportunities of displaying their skill and agility. The horses appear to enjoy the sport as much as their riders, and are very active in eluding the shock of the animal, should it turn on its pursuer. The most common method, however, of shooting the bison, is by crawling towards them from to leeward; and in favorable places, great numbers are taken in pounds. When the bison runs, it leans very much first to one side, for a short space of time, and then to the other, and so on alternately.

When the Indians determine to destroy bisons, as they frequently do, by driving them over a precipice, one of their swiftest-footed and most active young men is selected, who is disguised in a bison skin, having the head, ears, and horns adjusted on his own head, so as to make the deception very complete; and, thus accoutred, he stations himself between the bison herd and some of the precipices that often extend for several miles along the rivers. The Indians surround the herd as nearly as possible, when, at a given signal, they show themselves, and rush forward with loud yells. The animals being alarmed, and seeing no way open but in the direction of the disguised Indian, run towards him, and he, taking to flight, dashes on to the precipice, where he suddenly secures himself in some previously ascertained crevice. The foremost of the herd arrives at the brink—there is no possibility of retreat, no chance of escape; the foremost may for an instant shrink with terror, but the crowd behind, who are terrified by the approaching hunters, rush forward with increasing impetuosity, and the aggregated force hurls them successively into the gulf, where certain death awaits them.

This order contains a class of animals which live in the water, propel themselves by fins, and have the general form of fishes; yet they are viviparous, and suckle their young; in these respects forming a striking contrast to all the other finny inhabitants of the wave. The principal species are the dolphin, grampus, porpoise, and whale. The latter is remarkable as being by far the largest creature known to the animal kingdom.

This animal usually swims in troops, and its motions in the water are performed with such wonderful rapidity, that the French sailors call it la flèche de la mer, or the sea-arrow. St. Pierre, in his "Voyage to the Isle of France," assures us that he saw a dolphin swim with apparent ease round the vessel in which he was sailing, though it was going at the rate of about six miles an hour. A shoal of dolphins followed the ships of Sir Richard Hawkins upwards of a thousand leagues. They were known to be the same, from the wounds they occasionally received from the sailors. They are greedy of almost any kind of scraps that are thrown overboard, and consequently are often caught by means of large iron hooks, baited with pieces of fish and garbage.

The bounding and gambolling of dolphins has attracted the attention of writers and poets in all ages, and is described as being extremely beautiful.

The ancients believed that dolphins attended all cases of shipwreck, and transported the mariners in safety to the shore. Pirœtes, having made captive Arion, the poet, at length determined on throwing him overboard; and it is said that he escaped in safety to the shore on the back of a dolphin.

"Kind, generous dolphins love the rocky shore,

Where broken waves with fruitless anger roar.

But though to sounding shores they curious come,

Yet dolphins count the boundless sea their home.

Nay, should these favorites forsake the main,

Neptune would grieve his melancholy reign.

The calmest, stillest seas, when left by them,

Would awful frown, and all unjoyous seem.

But when the darling frisks his wanton play,

The waters smile, and every wave looks gay."

This inhabitant of the deep is from twenty to twenty-five feet in length, and seems to cherish a mortal spite against the whale. It possesses the strong affection for its young common to this order. One of the poems of Waller is founded upon the following incident: A grampus in England, with her cub, once got into an arm of the sea, where, by the desertion of the tide, they were enclosed on every side. The men on shore saw their situation, and ran down upon them with such weapons as they could at the moment collect. The poor animals were soon wounded in several places, so that all the immediately surrounding water was stained with their blood. They made many efforts to escape; and the old one, by superior strength, forced itself over the shallow, into a deep of the ocean. But though in safety herself, she would not leave her young one in the hands of assassins. She therefore again rushed in, and seemed resolved, since she could not prevent, at least to share, the fate of her offspring: the tide coming in, however, conveyed them both off in triumph.

This creature is familiar to every one who has been at sea, or who has frequented the bays and harbors along our coast. It may often be seen in troops gambolling in the water, and seeming like a drove of black hogs, with their backs above the waves. It is imagined by the sailors that they are the most sportive just before a storm. The following method is adopted for taking them on the banks of the St. Lawrence: When the fishing season arrives, the people collect together a great number of sallow twigs, or slender branches of other trees, and stick them pretty firmly into the sand-banks of the river, which at low water are left dry; this is done on the side towards the river, forming a long line of twigs at moderate distances, which at the upper end is connected with the shore, an opening being left at the lower end, that they may enter. As the tide rises, it covers the twigs, so as to keep them out of sight: the porpoise, in quest of his prey, gets within the line; when those who placed the snare rush out in numbers, properly armed, and, while in this defenceless state, they overpower him with ease.

Of this monster of the deep there are several species—as the Great Whale, which is seventy or eighty feet in length; the Spermaceti Whale, which is somewhat smaller, &c. They frequent various seas, and are most common in cold latitudes.

To the Greenlanders, as well as the natives of more southern climates, the whale is an animal of essential importance; and these people spend much time in fishing for it. When they set out on their whale-catching expeditions, they dress themselves in their best apparel, fancying that, if they are not cleanly and neatly clad, the whale, who detests a slovenly and dirty garb, would immediately avoid them. In this manner about fifty persons, men and women, set out together in one of their large boats. The women carry along with them their needles, and other implements, to mend their husbands' clothes, in case they should be torn, and to repair the boat, if it happen to receive any damage. When the men discover a whale, they strike it with their harpoons, to which are fastened lines or straps two or three fathoms long, made of seal-skin, having at the end a bag of a whole seal-skin, blown up. The huge animal, by means of the inflated bag, is in some degree compelled to keep near the surface of the water. When he is fatigued, and rises, the men attack him with their spears till he is killed.

The affection and fidelity of the male and female are very great. Anderson informs us that some fishermen having harpooned one of two whales that were in company together, the wounded animal made a long and terrible resistance; it upset a boat containing three men with a single blow of its tail, by which all went to the bottom. The other still attended its companion, and lent it every assistance, till at last the one that was struck sank under its wounds; while its faithful associate, disdaining to survive the loss, with great bellowing, stretched itself upon the dead animal, and shared its fate.

The whale is remarkable also for its attachment to its young, and may be frequently seen urging and assisting them to escape from danger, with the most unceasing care and fondness. They are not less remarkable for strong feeling of sociality and attachment to one another. This is carried to so great an extent, that, where one female of a herd is attacked or wounded, her faithful companions will remain around her to the last moment, until they are wounded themselves. This act of remaining by a wounded companion is called "heaving to," and whole "schools," or herds, have been destroyed by dexterous management, when several ships have been in company, wholly from their possessing this remarkable disposition.

In the year 1814, an English harpooner struck a cub, in hopes of attracting the attention of the mother. When the young one was wounded, the whale rose to the surface, seized the cub, and dragged a hundred fathoms of line from the boat with great velocity. She again rose to the surface, and dashed furiously about, seemingly deeply concerned for the fate of her young one. Although closely pursued, she did not again descend; and, regardless of the surrounding danger, continued in this state, till she received three harpoons, and was at length killed.

There are few incidents in which the enterprise and power of man are more strikingly displayed than in the chase and capture of the whale. It would be easy to fill a volume with thrilling tales of adventure in this hazardous vocation. One of the most curious occurrences upon record, in relation to the whale fishery, happened to a Nantucket ship some years since in the Pacific Ocean. An attack having been made upon a young whale, the dam went to a distance, and, turning toward the ship, came against the bow with a terrific force, which beat it in, and the vessel sank, only allowing time for the hands to get into the boat. In this they roamed upon the ocean for several weeks, and, when emaciated to the last degree by fatigue and privation, they were finally picked up and saved.

It is evident that this class of animals are generally destined to live a portion of their time in the air, and to perch upon trees. The scientific naturalist is struck with admiring wonder when he comes to examine the adaptation of these creatures to their modes of life. The ingenuity of contrivance, in giving strength, yet lightness, to the frame of the bird, is perhaps unequalled in the whole compass of animated nature. Nor are the feathered races less interesting to common observers. They are associated in the mind with all that is romantic and beautiful in scenery. Their mysterious emigrations, at stated seasons, from land to land; their foresight of calm and storm; their melody and beauty; and that wonderful construction by which some of them are fitted for land and air, and others for swimming,—these contribute to render them an unfailing source of interest to mankind at large.

The birds are divided into six orders, under each of which we shall notice a few of the more prominent species.

The Condor.—This is not only the largest of vultures, but the largest known bird of flight. It is common in the regions of the Andes, in South America, and is occasionally found as far north as the Rocky Mountains of the United States. Nuttall gives us the following characteristic sketch of this fierce and formidable bird:—

"A pair of condors will attack a cougar, a deer, or a llama: pursuing it for a long time, they will occasionally wound it with their bills and claws, until the unfortunate animal, stifled, and overcome with fatigue, extends its tongue and groans; on which occasion the condor seizes this member, being a very tender and favorite morsel, and tears out the eyes of its prey, which at length falls to the earth and expires. The greedy bird then gorges himself, and rests, in stupidity and almost gluttonous inebriation, upon the highest neighboring rocks. He can then be easily taken, as he is so gorged that he cannot fly."

Vultures in Africa.—Mr. Pringle describes these birds as follows: "They divide with the hyænas the office of carrion scavengers; and the promptitude with which they discover and devour every dead carcass is truly surprising. They also instinctively follow any band of hunters, or party of men travelling, especially in solitary places, wheeling in circles high in the air, ready to pounce down upon any game that may be shot and not instantly secured, or the carcass of any ox, or other animal, that may perish on the road. In a field of battle, no one ever buries the dead; the vultures and beasts of prey relieve the living of that trouble."

Turkey Buzzard and Carrion Crow.—These are two small species of vulture, common in our Southern States, and may be often seen in the cities, prowling for such offals as may fall in their way. Wilson furnishes us with the following sketch: "Went out to Hampstead this forenoon. A horse had dropped down in the street, in convulsions; and dying, it was dragged out to Hampstead, and skinned. The ground, for a hundred yards beyond it, was black with carrion crows; many sat on the tops of sheds, fences, and houses within sight; sixty or eighty in the opposite side of a small run. I counted, at one time, two hundred and thirty-seven; but I believe there were more, besides several in the air over my head, and at a distance. I ventured cautiously within thirty yards of the carcass, which three or four dogs, and twenty or thirty vultures, were busily tearing and devouring. Seeing them take no notice, I ventured nearer, till I was within ten yards, and sat down on the bank. On observing that they did not heed me, I stole so close that my feet were within one yard of the horse's legs, and I again sat down. They all slid aloof a few feet; but seeing me quiet, they soon returned as before. As they were often disturbed by the dogs, I ordered the latter home: my voice gave no alarm to the vultures. As soon as the dogs departed, the vultures crowded in such numbers, that I counted, at one time, thirty-seven on and around the carcass, with several within; so that scarcely an inch of it was visible."

The Peregrine Falcon.—Of this species, so celebrated, in former times, for being used in the noble sport of falconry, Mr. Selby gives us an interesting anecdote. "In exercising my dogs upon the moors, previous to the shooting season," says he, "I observed a large bird, of the hawk genus, hovering at a distance, which, upon approaching it, I knew to be a peregrine falcon. Its attention was now drawn towards the dogs, and it accompanied them whilst they beat the surrounding ground. Upon their having found and sprung a brood of grouse, the falcon immediately gave chase, and struck a young bird before they had proceeded far upon the wing. My shouts and rapid advance prevented it from securing its prey. The issue of this attempt, however, did not deter the falcon from watching our subsequent movements, and, another opportunity soon offering, it again gave chase, and struck down two birds, by two rapidly repeated blows, one of which it secured, and bore off in triumph."

Fatal Conflict.—Le Vaillant gives an account of an engagement between a falcon and a snake. "When this bird attacks a serpent, it always carries the point of one of its wings forward, in order to parry the venomous bites. Sometimes it seizes its prey and throws it high in the air, thus wearying it out. In the present instance, the battle was obstinate, and conducted with equal address on both sides. The serpent at length endeavored to regain his hole; while the bird, guessing his design, threw herself before him. On whatever side the reptile endeavored to escape, the enemy still appeared before him. Rendered desperate, he resolved on a last effort. He erected himself boldly, to intimidate the bird, and, hissing dreadfully, displayed his menacing throat, inflamed eyes, and head swollen with rage and venom. The falcon, for one moment, seemed intimidated, but soon returned to the charge, and, covering her body with one of her wings as a buckler, she struck her enemy with the bony protuberance of the other. The serpent at last staggered and fell. The conqueror then fell upon him to despatch him, and with one stroke of her beak laid open his skull."

The Kestrel.—Selby gives us the following curious account of this small European species of falcon. "I had," says he, "the pleasure, this summer, of seeing the kestrel engaged in an occupation entirely new to me—hawking after cockchaffers late in the evening. I watched him through a glass, and saw him dart through a swarm of the insects, seize one in each claw, and eat them whilst flying. He returned to the charge again and again."

An extraordinary spectacle was exhibited, in 1828, in the garden of Mr. May, of Uxbridge, in the instance of a tame male hawk sitting on three hen's eggs. The same bird hatched three chickens the year before; but being irritated by some person, it destroyed them. It also hatched one chicken, in the year above mentioned, which was placed with another brood.

The Sparrow Hawk.—A remarkable instance of the boldness of this bird was witnessed at Market Deeping, England, one Sunday. Just as the congregation were returning from divine service in the afternoon, a hawk of this species made a stoop at a swallow which had alighted in the centre of the church; and, notwithstanding the surrounding spectators, and the incessant twitterings of numbers of the victim's friends, the feathered tyrant succeeded in bearing his prey triumphantly into the air.

The Buzzard.—Of this common species of hawk, Buffon tells us the following story: "A buzzard that had been domesticated in France exhibited much attachment to his master, attending him at the dinner-table, and caressing him with his head and bill. He managed to conquer all the cats and dogs in the house, seizing their food from them even when there were several together; if attacked, he would take wing, with a tone of exultation. He had a singular antipathy to red caps, which he dexterously snatched off the heads of the working men without being perceived. He likewise purloined wigs in the same manner; and, after carrying this strange booty off to the tallest tree, he left them there without injury. Although he sometimes attacked the neighboring poultry, he lived on amicable terms with those of his master, bathing even among the chickens and ducklings without doing them any injury."

Of this bird, which seems to stand at the head of the feathered race, as does the lion at the head of quadrupeds, there are many species—among which, the sea eagle, the bald eagle, the Washington, and the golden eagle, hold prominent places.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—Several instances have been recorded of children being seized and carried off, by eagles, to their young. In the year 1737, in the parish of Norderhouss, in Norway, a boy, somewhat more than two years old, was running from the house to his parents, who were at work in the fields at no great distance, when an eagle pounced upon and flew off with him in their sight. It was with inexpressible grief and anguish that they beheld their child dragged away, but their screams and efforts were in vain.

We are told that, in the year 1827, as two boys, the one seven and the other five years old, were amusing themselves in a field, in the state of New York, in trying to reap during the time that their parents were at dinner, a large eagle came sailing over them, and with a swoop attempted to seize the eldest, but luckily missed him. The bird, not at all dismayed, sat on the ground at a short distance, and in a few moments repeated the attempt. The bold little fellow defended himself with the sickle in his hand, and, when the bird rushed upon him, he struck it. The sickle entered under the left wing, went through the ribs, and, penetrating the liver, instantly proved fatal.

A gentleman, visiting a friend's house in Scotland, went to see a nest which had been occupied by eagles for several summers. There was a stone near it, upon which, when there were young ones, there were always to be found grouse, partridges, ducks, and other game, beside kids, fawns, and lambs. As these birds kept such an excellent storehouse, the owner said that he was in the habit, when he had unexpected company, of sending his servants to see what his neighbors, the eagles, had to spare, and they scarcely ever returned without some dainty dishes for the table; game of all kinds being better for having been kept. When the servants took away any quantity of provisions from the stone larder, the eagles lost no time in bringing in new supplies.

As some gentlemen were once hunting in Ireland, a large eagle hastily descended and seized their terrier. This being observed by some of the party, they encouraged the dog, who, turning on the eagle as it continued to soar within a few feet of the ground, brought it down by seizing its wing, and held it fast till the gentlemen secured it.

Sir H. Davy gives us the following: "I once saw a very interesting sight, above one of the crags of Ben-Nevis, as I was going in the pursuit of game. Two parent eagles were teaching their offspring—two young birds—the manœuvres of flight. They began by rising to the top of a mountain in the eye of the sun; it was about midday, and bright for this climate. They at first made small circles, and the young birds imitated them; they then paused on their wings, waiting till they had made their first flight. They then took a second and larger gyration, always rising towards the sun, and enlarging their circle of flight, so as to make a gradually ascending spiral. The young ones slowly followed, apparently flying better as they mounted; and they continued this sublime kind of exercise, always rising, till they were mere points in the air, and the young ones were lost, and afterwards their parents, to our aching sight."

Not long since, a man in Connecticut shot an eagle of the largest kind. The bird fell to the ground, and being only wounded, the man carried him home alive. He took good care of him, and he soon got quite well. He became quite attached to the place where he was taken care of, and though he was permitted to go at large, and often flew away to a considerable distance, he would always come back again.

He used to take his station in the door-yard in the front of the house, and, if any well-dressed person came through the yard to the house, the eagle would sit still and make no objections; but if a ragged person came into the yard, he would fly at him, seize his clothes with one claw, hold on to the grass with the other, and thus make him prisoner.

Often was the proprietor of the house called upon to release persons that had been thus seized by the eagle. It is a curious fact that he never attacked ragged people going to the house the back way. It was only when they attempted to enter through the front door that he assailed them. He had some other curious habits; he did not go out every day to get breakfast, dinner, and supper; his custom was about once a week to make a hearty meal, and that was sufficient for six days. His most common food was the king-bird, of which he would catch sometimes ten in the course of a few hours, and these would suffice for his weekly repast.

Of this numerous family, there are a great variety of species; but nearly all steal forth at night, preying upon such birds and quadrupeds as they can master. They are spread over the northern portions of both continents, and appear in all minds to be associated with ideas of melancholy and gloom. The owl was anciently an emblem of wisdom; but we have no evidence that it possesses sagacity in any degree superior to that of any other member of the feathered family.

Mr. Nuttall gives us the following description of a red owl: "I took him out of a hollow apple-tree, and kept him several months. A dark closet was his favorite retreat during the day; in the evening he became very lively, gliding across the room with a side-long, restless flight, blowing with a hissing noise, stretching out his neck in a threatening manner, and snapping with his bill. He was a very expert mouse-catcher, swallowed his prey whole, and afterwards ejected the bones, skin, and hair, in round balls. He also devoured large flies. He never showed any inclination to drink."

The little owl has a cry, when flying, like poopoo. Another note, which it utters sitting, appears so much like the human voice calling out, Aimé aimé edmé, that it deceived one of Buffon's servants, who lodged in one of the old turrets of a castle; and waking him up at three o'clock in the morning with this singular cry, the man opened the window, and called out, "Who's there below? My name is not Edmé, but Peter!"

A carpenter, passing through a field near Gloucester, England, was attacked by a barn owl that had a nest of young ones in a tree near the path. The bird flew at his head; and the man, striking at it with a tool he had in his hand, missed his blow, upon which the owl repeated the attack, and, with her talons fastened on his face, tore out one of his eyes, and scratched him in the most shocking manner.

A gentleman in Yorkshire, having observed the scales of fishes in the nest of a couple of barn owls that lived in the neighborhood of a lake, was induced, one moonlight night, to watch their motions, when he was surprised to see one of the old birds plunge into the water and seize a perch, which it bore to its young ones.

A party of Scottish Highlanders, in the service of the Hudson's Bay Company, happened, in a winter journey, to encamp, after nightfall, in a dense clump of trees, whose dark tops and lofty stems, the growth of centuries, gave a solemnity to the scene that strongly tended to excite the superstitious feelings of the Highlanders. The effect was heightened by the discovery of a tomb, which, with a natural taste often exhibited by the Indians, had been placed in this secluded spot. Our travellers, having finished their supper, were trimming their fire preparatory to retiring to rest, when the slow and dismal notes of the horned owl fell on the ear with a startling nearness. None of them being acquainted with the sound, they at once concluded that so unearthly a voice must be the moaning of the spirit of the departed, whose repose they supposed they had disturbed by inadvertently making a fire of some of the wood of which his tomb had been constructed. They passed a tedious night of fear, and with the first dawn of day, hastily quitted the ill-omened spot.

Genghis Khan, who was founder of the empire of the Mogul Tartars, being defeated, and having taken shelter from his enemies, owed his preservation to a snowy owl, which was perched over the bush in which he was hid, in a small coppice. His pursuers, on seeing this bird, never thought it possible he could be near it. Genghis in consequence escaped, and ever afterwards this bird was held sacred by his countrymen, and every one wore a plume of its feathers on his head.

This order derives its name from passer, a sparrow; but the title is not very appropriate, for it includes not sparrows only, but a variety of birds greatly differing from them. They have not the violence of birds of prey, nor are they restricted to a particular kind of food. They feed mainly on insects, fruit, and grain.

One of these birds had once the boldness to attack two canaries belonging to a gentleman in Cambridge, Mass., which were suspended, one fine winter's day, at the window. The poor songsters, in their fear, fluttered to the side of the cage, and one of them thrust its head through the bars of its prison; at this moment the wily butcher tore off its head, and left the body dead in the cage. The cause of the accident seemed wholly mysterious, till, on the following day, the bold hunter was found to have entered the room with a view to despatch the remaining bird; and but for a timely interference, it would instantly have shared the fate of its companion.

This bird has been observed to adopt an odd stratagem. It sticks grasshoppers upon the sharp, thorny branches of trees, for the purpose of decoying the smaller birds, that feed on insects, into a situation whence it could dart on them.

Mr. Nuttall, who domesticated one of these birds, gives us the following account: "His taciturnity, and disinclination to familiarities, were striking traits. His restless, quick, and side-glancing eye enabled him to follow the motions of his insect prey, and to know the precise moment of attack. The snapping of his bill, as he darted after them, was like the shutting of a watch-case. He readily caught morsels of food in his bill. Berries he swallowed whole. Large grasshoppers and beetles he pounded and broke on the floor. Some very cold nights, he had the sagacity to retire under the shelter of a depending bed-quilt. He was pleased with the light of lamps, and would eat freely at any hour of the night."

This beautiful member of the feathered family flies in flocks, and makes himself familiar with the cherry trees when their fruit is ripe. Though his habits are timid and somewhat shy, he appears to possess an affectionate disposition. Mr. Nuttall tells us that one among a row of these birds, seated one day upon a branch, was observed to catch an insect, and offer it to his associate, who very disinterestedly passed it to the next, and, each delicately declining the offer, the morsel proceeded backwards and forwards many times before it was appropriated.

Wilson gives us the following interesting anecdote of one of these birds: "Passing through an orchard one morning, I caught a young tanager that had apparently just left the nest. I carried it with me to the Botanic Garden, put it in a cage, and hung it on a large pine-tree near the nest of two orioles, hoping that their tenderness might induce them to feed the young bird. But the poor orphan was neglected, till at last a tanager, probably its own parent, was seen fluttering round the cage, and endeavoring to get in. Finding this impracticable, it flew off, and soon returned with food in its bill, feeding the young one till sunset: it then took up its lodgings on the higher branches of the same tree. In the morning, as soon as day broke, he was again seen most actively engaged; and so he continued for three or four days. He then appeared extremely solicitous for the liberation of his charge, using every expression of anxiety, and every call and invitation that nature had put in his power, for him to come out. Unable to resist this powerful pleader, I opened the cage, took out the prisoner, and restored it to its parent, who, with notes of great exultation, accompanied its flight to the woods."

The mocking-bird selects the place for his nest according to the region in which he resides. A solitary thorn bush, an almost impenetrable thicket, an orange or cedar-tree, or a holly bush, are favorite spots; and sometimes he will select a low apple or pear-tree. The nest is composed of dry twigs, straw, wool, and tow, and lined with fine fibrous roots. During the time when the female is sitting, neither cat, dog, animal, or man, can approach the nest without being attacked.

But the chief vengeance of the bird is directed against his mortal enemy, the black snake. Whenever this reptile is discovered, the male darts upon it with the rapidity of an arrow, dexterously eluding its bite, and striking it violently and incessantly upon the head. The snake soon seeks to escape; but the intrepid bird redoubles his exertions; and as the serpent's strength begins to flag, he seizes it, and lifts it up from the ground, beating it with his wings; and when the business is completed, he returns to his nest, mounts the summit of the bush, and pours out a torrent of song, in token of victory.

His strong, musical voice is capable of every modulation. His matin notes are bold and full, consisting of short expressions of two, three, or five and six syllables, generally interspersed with imitations, all of them uttered with great emphasis and rapidity. His expanded wings, and tail glistening with white, and the buoyant gayety of his action, arrest the eye as his song does the ear.

The mocking-bird loses little of the power and energy of his music by confinement. When he commences his career of song, it is impossible to stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog; Cæsar starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He squeaks out like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about with hanging wings and bristling feathers, clucking to protect her injured brood. The barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, the creaking of the passing wheelbarrow, follow with great truth and rapidity. He repeats the tune taught him by his master, though of considerable length, fully and faithfully. He runs over the quiverings of the canary, and the clear whistlings of the red-bird, with such superior execution and effect, that the mortified songsters feel their own inferiority, while he seems to triumph in their defeat by redoubling his exertions.

A correspondent of Wilson furnishes the following account of an oriole: "This bird I took from the nest when very young. I taught it to feed from my mouth; and it would often alight on my finger, and strike the end with its bill, until I raised it to my mouth, when it would insert its bill, to see what I had for it to eat. In winter, spring, and autumn, it slept in a cage lined with cotton batting. After I had put it in, if I did not close up the apertures with cotton, it would do so itself, by pulling the cotton from the sides of the cage till it had shut up all the apertures; I fed it with sponge cake; and when this became dry and hard, it would take a piece and drop it into the saucer, and move it about till it was soft enough to be eaten.

"In very cold weather, the oriole would fly to me, and get under my cape, and nestle down upon my neck. It often perched upon my finger, and drew my needle and thread from me when I was sewing. At such times, if any child approached me and pulled my dress, it would chase after the offender, with its wings and tail spread, and high resentment in its eye. In sickness, when I have been confined to the bed, the little pet would visit my pillow many times during the day, often creeping under the bed-clothes. At such times, it was always low-spirited. When it wanted to bathe, it would approach me with a very expressive look, and shake its wings. On my return home from a call or visit, it would invariably show its pleasure by a peculiar sound."

"In the month of June, a mower once hung up his coat under a shed in the barn: two or three days elapsed before he had occasion to put it on again. When he did so, on thrusting his arm into the sleeve, he found it completely filled with rubbish, as he expressed it, and, on extracting the whole mass, found it to be the nest of a wren, completely finished, and lined with a large quantity of feathers. In his retreat he was followed by the forlorn little proprietors, who scolded him with great vehemence for thus ruining the whole economy of their household affairs."

"A box fitted up in the window of a room where I slept, was taken possession of by a pair of wrens. Already the nest was built, and two eggs laid; when one day, the window being open as well as the room door, the female wren, venturing too far into the room, was sprung upon by grimalkin, and instantly destroyed. Curious to know how the survivor would demean himself, I watched him carefully for several days. At first he sang with great vivacity for an hour or so; but, becoming uneasy, went off for half an hour. On his return, he chanted again as before, went to the top of the house, stable, and weeping willow, that his mate might hear him; but seeing no appearance of her, he returned once more, visited the nest, ventured cautiously into the window, gazed about with suspicious looks, his voice sinking into a low, melancholy note, as he stretched his neck in every direction.

"Returning to the box, he seemed for some minutes at a loss what to do, and soon went off, as I thought altogether, for I saw no more of him that day. Towards the afternoon of the second day, he again made his appearance, accompanied with a new female, who seemed exceedingly timorous and shy, and after great hesitation entered the box. At this moment, the little widower and bridegroom seemed as if he would warble out his very life with ecstasy of joy. After remaining about half a minute inside, they began to carry out the eggs, feathers, and some of the sticks, supplying the place of the two latter with materials of the same sort, and ultimately succeeded in raising a brood of seven young ones, all of whom escaped in safety."

This well-known bird is a general inhabitant of the United States, and a particular favorite wherever he takes up his abode. "I never met with more than one man," says Wilson, "who disliked the martins, and would not permit them to settle about his house. This was a penurious, close-fisted German, who hated them because, as he said, 'they ate his peas.' I told him he must certainly be mistaken, as I never knew an instance of martins eating peas; but he replied, with great coolness, that he had often seen them 'blaying round the hive, and going schnip, schnap,' by which I understood that it was his bees that had been the sufferers; and the charge could not be denied."

In England, in one corner of the piazza of a house, a swallow had erected her nest, while a wren occupied a box which was purposely hung in the centre. They were both much domesticated. The wren became unsettled in its habits, and formed a design of dislodging the swallow; and having made an attack, actually succeeded in driving her away. Impudence gets the better of modesty; and this exploit was no sooner performed, than the wren removed every part of the materials to her own box, with the most admirable dexterity. The signs of triumph appeared very visible; it fluttered with its wings with uncommon velocity, and a universal joy was perceivable in all its movements. The peaceable swallow, like the passive Quaker, meekly sat at a small distance, and never offered the least opposition. But no sooner was the plunder carried away, than the injured bird went to work with unabated ardor, and in a few days the depredations were repaired.

A swallow's nest, built in the west corner of a window in England facing the north, was so much softened by the rain beating against it, that it was rendered unfit to support the superincumbent load of five pretty, full-grown swallows. During a storm, the nest fell into the lower corner of the window, leaving the young brood exposed to all the fury of the blast. To save the little creatures from an untimely death, the owner of the house benevolently caused a covering to be thrown over them, till the severity of the storm was past. No sooner had it subsided, than the sages of the colony assembled, fluttering round the window, and hovering over the temporary covering of the fallen nest. As soon as this careful anxiety was observed, the covering was removed, and the utmost joy evinced by the group, on finding the young ones alive and unhurt. After feeding them, the members of this assembled community arranged themselves into working order. Each division, taking its appropriate station, commenced instantly to work; and before nightfall, they had jointly completed an arched canopy over the young brood in the corner where they lay, and securely covered them against a succeeding blast. Calculating the time occupied by them in performing this piece of architecture, it appeared evident that the young must have perished from cold and hunger before any single pair could have executed half the job.

A gentleman was travelling on horseback, a short time since, in Norfolk, England, when a lark dropped on the pommel of his saddle, and, spreading its wings in a submissive manner, cowered to him. He stopped his horse, and sat for some time in astonishment, looking at the bird, which he supposed to be wounded; but on endeavoring to take it, the lark crept round him, and placed itself behind: turning himself on the saddle, to observe it, the poor animal dropped between the legs of the horse, and remained immovable. It then struck him that the poor thing was pursued, and, as the last resource, hazarded its safety with him. The gentleman looked up, and discovered a hawk hovering directly over them; the poor bird again mounted the saddle, under the eye of its protector; and the disappointed hawk shifting his station, the little fugitive, watching his opportunity, darted over the hedge, and was hid in an instant.

During the time of incubation, the natural timidity of birds is greatly lessened. The following instance, given by W. H. Hill, of Gloucester, England, illustrates this: "Some time since, a pair of blue titmice built their nest in the upper part of an old pump, fixing on the pin, on which the handle worked. It happened that, during the time of building the nest and laying the eggs, the pump had not been used: when again set going, the female was sitting, and it was naturally expected that the motion of the pump-handle would drive her away. The young brood were hatched safely, however, without any other misfortune than the loss of part of the tail of the sitting bird, which was rubbed off by the friction of the pump-handle; nor did they appear disturbed by the visitors who were frequently looking at them."

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—At a public exhibition of birds, some years ago, in London, a canary had been taught to act the part of a deserter, and flew away pursued by two others, who appeared to apprehend him. A lighted candle being presented to one of them, he fired a small cannon, and the little deserter fell on one side, as if killed by the shot. Another bird then appeared with a small wheelbarrow, for the purpose of carrying off the dead; but as soon as the barrow came near, the little deserter started to his feet.

"On observing," says Dr. Darwin, "a canary-bird at the house of a gentleman in Derbyshire, I was told it always fainted away when its cage was cleaned; and I desired to see the experiment. The cage being taken from the ceiling, and the bottom drawn out, the bird began to tremble, and turned quite white about the root of the bill; he then opened his mouth as if for breath, and respired quick; stood up straighter on his perch, hung his wing, spread his tail, closed his eyes, and appeared quite stiff for half an hour, till at length, with trembling and deep respirations, he came gradually to himself."

A few years since, a lady at Washington had a pair of canaries in a cage, one of which, the female, at last died. The survivor manifested the utmost grief; but upon a looking-glass being placed by his side, so that he could see his image, he took it for his departed friend, and seemed at once restored to happiness. The details of the story are given in the following lines:—

Poor Phil was once a blithe canary—

But then his mate was at his side;

His spirits never seemed to vary,

Till she, one autumn evening, died;—

And now upon his perch he clung,

With ruffled plumes and spirits low,

His carol hushed; or, if he sung,

'Twas some sad warble of his wo.

His little mistress came with seed:—

Alas! he would not, could not, feed.

She filled his cup with crystal dew;

She called—she whistled:—'twould not do;

The little mourner bowed his head,

And gently peeped—"My mate is dead!"

Alas, poor Phil! how changed art thou!

The gayest then, the saddest now.

The dribbled seed, the limpid wave,

Would purchase, then, thy sweetest stave;

Or, if thou hadst some softer spell,

Thine ear had stolen from the shell

That sings amid the silver sand

That circles round thy native land,

'Twas only when, with wily art,

Thou sought'st to charm thy partner's heart.

And she is gone—thy joys are dead—

Thy music with thy mate is fled!

Poor bird! upon the roost he sate,

With drooping wing, disconsolate;

And as his little mistress gazed,

Her brimming eyes with tears were glazed.

In vain she tried each wonted art

To heal the mourner's broken heart.

At last she went, with childish thought,

And to the cage a mirror brought.

She placed it by the songster's side—

And, lo! the image seemed his bride!

Forth from his perch he wondering flew,

Approached, and gazed, and gazed anew;

And then his wings he trembling shook,

And then a circling flight he took;

And then his notes began to rise,

A song of triumph, to the skies!

And since—for many a day and year,

That blissful bird—the mirror near—

With what he deems his little wife,

His partner still—has spent his life:

Content, if but the image stay,

Sit by his side, and list his lay!

Thus fancy oft will bring relief,

And with a shadow comfort grief.

A farmer in Scotland had a bulfinch which he taught to whistle some plaintive old Scottish airs. He reluctantly parted with the bird for a sum of money, which his narrow circumstances at the time compelled him to accept of; but inwardly resolved, if fortune should favor him, to buy it back, cost what it would. At the end of a year or so, a relation died, leaving him a considerable legacy. Away he went, the very day after he got intelligence of this pleasant event, and asked the person who had purchased the bulfinch, if he would sell it again, telling him to name his own price. The man would not hear of parting with the bird. The farmer begged just to have a sight of it, and he would be satisfied. This was readily agreed to; so, as soon as he entered the room where the bulfinch was kept, he began to whistle one of the fine old tunes which he had formerly taught it. The bulfinch remained in a listening attitude for a minute or two, then it grew restless, as if struggling with some dim recollection,—then it moved joyously to the side of the cage, and all at once it seemed to identify its old master, who had no sooner ceased, than it took up the tune, and warbled it with the tremulous pathos which marked the manner of its teacher. The effect was irresistible; the poor farmer burst into tears, and the matter ended by his receiving the bulfinch in a present: but report says, to his credit, that he insisted on making a present of money, in return.

A few years since, a pair of sparrows, which had built in the thatch roof of a house at Poole, were observed to continue their visits to the nest long after the time when the young birds take flight. This unusual circumstance continued throughout the year; and in the winter, a gentleman who had all along observed them, determined on investigating the cause. He therefore mounted a ladder, and found one of the young ones detained a prisoner, by means of a piece of string, or worsted, which formed part of the nest, having become accidentally twisted round its leg. Being thus incapacitated from procuring its own sustenance, it had been fed by the continued exertions of its parents.

An old man belonging to the neighborhood of Glasgow, who was a soldier in his youth, mentions, that he became first reconciled to a foreign country, by observing a sparrow hopping about just as he had seen them do at home. "Are you here too, freen?" said he to the sparrow. He does not add that it returned a verbal answer to his exclamatory question; but he could not help fancying that it looked assent, as if it understood he was an exile, and wished him to take a lesson of resignation to circumstances.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—In the year 1816, a Scotch newspaper states that a common crow, perceiving a brood of young chickens, fourteen in number, under the care of a parent hen, picked up one of them; but a young lady, seeing what had happened, suddenly pulled up the window, and calling out loudly, the plunderer dropped his prey. In the course of the day, however, the audacious and calculating robber, accompanied by thirteen others, came to the place where the chickens were, and each seizing one, got clearly off with the whole brood at once.

An instance of sagacity in the crow is told by Dr. Darwin. He had a friend, on the northern coast of Ireland, who noticed above a hundred crows at once, feeding on mussels. The plan they took to break them was, each to lift one in its bill, and ascend about thirty or forty yards in the air, and from thence let the mussels drop upon stones; thus they secured the flesh of the animal inhabitants.

During the war between Augustus Cæsar and Mark Antony, when the world looked with anxiety which way Fortune would turn herself, an indigent man in Rome, in order to be prepared to take advantage of whichever way she might incline, determined on making a bold hit for his own advancement; he had recourse, therefore, to the following ingenious expedient: He applied himself to the training of two crows with such diligence, that he taught them at length to pronounce distinctly, the one a salutation to Cæsar, and the other to Antony. When Augustus returned conqueror, the man went out to meet him, with one of the crows perched on his hand, which every little while exclaimed, Salve, Cæsar, Victor, Imperator! Augustus, greatly struck, and delighted with so novel a circumstance, purchased the bird of the man for a sum which immediately raised him to opulence.

There is a kind of crow, which is seen in England in flocks, called the hooded crow. It is said that one or two hundred of them will sometimes meet together as if upon some fixed plan; and at these times, a few of them sit with drooping heads, and others look very grave, as if they were judges, while others still are very bustling and noisy. In about an hour, the meeting breaks up, when one or two are generally found dead; and it has been supposed that this meeting is a sort of trial of some crows who have behaved ill, and who are punished in this severe way for their bad behavior.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—This bird is very hardy, crafty, and wary. He is easily domesticated, and is very mischievous, readily catching up any thing glittering, and hiding it. There is a well-authenticated fact of a gentleman's butler having missed a great many silver spoons, and other articles, without being able to detect the thief for some time; at last he observed a tame raven with one in his mouth, and watched him to his hiding-place, where he found more than a dozen.

A young raven, fifteen months old, was taken from the nest when very young, and brought up by a keeper with his dogs. It was so completely domesticated that it would go out with the keeper, and when it took its flight farther than usual, at the sound of the whistle it would return and perch upon a tree or a wall, and watch all his movements. It was no uncommon thing for it to go to the moors with him, and to return—a distance of ten or twelve miles. It would even enter a village with the keeper, partake of the same refreshment, and never leave him until he returned home.

A gentleman who resided near the New Forest, Hampshire, England, had a tame raven, which used frequently to hop about the verge of the forest, and chatter to every one it met. One day, a person travelling through the forest to Winchester, was much surprised at hearing the following exclamation: "Fair play, gentlemen! fair play! for God's sake, gentlemen, fair play!" The traveller, looking round to discover from whence the voice came, to his great astonishment, beheld no human being near. But hearing the cry of "fair play" again repeated, he thought it must proceed from some fellow-creature in distress. He immediately rushed into that part of the forest from whence the cries came, where, to his unspeakable astonishment, the first objects he beheld were two ravens combating a third with great fury, while the sufferer, which proved to be the tame one aforesaid, kept loudly vociferating, "fair play;" which so diverted the traveller, that he instantly rescued the oppressed bird, by driving away his adversaries; and returned highly pleased with his morning adventure.

This bird, which is found in Europe, and also in the plains east of the Rocky Mountains, is remarkable alike for its loquacity and its disposition to theft—a trait of character which belongs to several birds of the same genus. Lady Morgan furnishes us with the following anecdote:—

"A noble lady of Florence resided in a house which still stands opposite the lofty Doric column which was raised to commemorate the defeat of Pietro Strozzi, and the taking of Sienna, by the tyrannic conqueror of both, Cosmo the First. She lost a valuable pearl necklace, and one of her waiting-women, a very young girl, was accused of the theft. Having solemnly denied the fact, she was put to the torture, which was then practised at Florence. Unable to support its terrible infliction, she acknowledged that 'she was guilty,' and, without further trial, was hung. Shortly after, Florence was visited by a tremendous storm; a thunderbolt fell on the figure of Justice, and split the scales, one of which fell to the earth, and with it fell the ruins of a magpie's nest, containing the pearl necklace. Those scales are still the haunts of birds, and I never saw them hovering round them, without thinking of those 'good old times,' when innocent women could be first tortured, and then hung, on suspicion."

We are informed by Plutarch of a magpie, belonging to a barber at Rome, which could imitate every word it heard uttered. It happened one day that some trumpets were sounded before the shop door, and for some days afterwards the magpie was quite mute, and appeared pensive and melancholy. This change in its manners greatly surprised all who knew it, and it was supposed that the sound of the trumpets had so completely stunned the poor bird, that it was deprived of both voice and hearing. It soon appeared, however, that this was not the case; for Plutarch says, the bird had been all the while occupied in profound meditation, studying how to imitate the sound of the trumpets, which had made a deep impression on him; and at last, to the astonishment of all its friends, it broke its long silence by a very perfect imitation of the flourish of the trumpets it had heard; observing with great accuracy all the repetitions, stops, and changes. But this turned out an unfavorable lesson, for the magpie forgot every thing else, and never afterwards attempted another imitation but that of the trumpets.

The following is from the pen of Wilson: "A nest of young humming-birds was once brought to me that were nearly fit to fly; one of them flew out of the nest and was killed. The other was fed with sugar and water, into which it thrust its bill, sucking it with great avidity. I kept it upwards of three months, feeding it on sugar and water; gave it fresh flowers every morning, sprinkled with the liquid, and surrounded the space in which I kept it with gauze, that it might not injure itself. It appeared gay, active, and full of spirit, humming from flower to flower, as if in its native wilds, and always expressed, by its motions and chirping, great pleasure at seeing fresh flowers introduced into its cage. Numbers of people visited it from motives of curiosity, and I took every precaution to preserve it, if possible, through the winter. Unfortunately, however, it got at large in the room, and, flying about, so injured itself, that it soon after died."

"This elegant bird," says Wilson, "is distinguished as a kind of beau among the feathered tenants of our woods, by the brilliancy of his dress. He possesses the mischievous disposition of the jay family, and he seems particularly fond of exercising his malignant ingenuity against the owl. No sooner has he discovered the retreat of one of these, than he summons the whole feathered fraternity to his assistance, who surround the glimmering solitaire, and attack him from all sides, raising such a shout as might be heard, on a still day, more than half a mile off. When, in my hunting excursions, I have passed near this scene of tumult, I have imagined to myself that I heard the insulting party, venting their respective charges with all the virulence of a Billingsgate mob; the owl, meanwhile, returning every compliment with a broad, goggling stare. The war becomes louder and louder, and the owl, at length, forced to betake himself to flight, is followed by his whole train of persecutors, until driven beyond the boundaries of their jurisdiction."

Anecdotes.—A gentleman in South Carolina gives an account of a blue jay, which was brought up in his family, that had all the tricks and loquacity of a parrot; pilfered every thing he could carry off, and hid them in holes and crevices; answered to his name with great sociability when called on; could articulate a number of words pretty distinctly; and when he heard an uncommon noise, or loud talking, seemed impatient to contribute his share to the general festivity, by a display of all the oratorical powers he was possessed of.

"Having caught a jay in the winter season," says Mr. Bartram, "I turned him loose in the greenhouse, and fed him with corn, the heart of which he was very fond of. The grain being ripe and hard, the bird at first found a difficulty in breaking it, as it would start from his bill when he struck it. After looking about, as if considering a moment, he picked up his grain, carried and placed it close up in a corner on the shelf, between the wall and a plant-box, where being confined on three sides, he soon effected his purpose, and continued afterwards to make use of the same practical expedient."

Dr. Jenner gives us the following anecdote: "I found one day the nest of a hedge-sparrow, which contained a cuckoo's and three hedge-sparrow's eggs. The next day, I found the bird had hatched, but the nest now contained only one sparrow, and the cuckoo. What was my astonishment to observe the young cuckoo, though so newly hatched, in the act of turning out the young hedge-sparrow! The mode of accomplishing this was very curious. The little animal, with the assistance of its rump and wings, contrived to get the bird on its back, and, making a lodgment for the burden, by elevating its elbows, clambered with it to the side of the nest till it reached the top, where resting for a moment, it threw off its load with a jerk, and quite disengaged it from the nest. It remained in this situation a short time, feeling about with the extremities of its wings, as if to be convinced that the business was properly done, and then dropped into the nest again."

The Red-headed Woodpecker.—Of the woodpecker there are several species; but this is one of the best known. It is, properly speaking, a bird of passage; though even in the Eastern States individuals are found during moderate winters, as well as in the states of New York and Pennsylvania. Notwithstanding the care which this bird takes to place its young beyond the reach of enemies, within the hollows of trees, yet there is one deadly foe, against whose depredations neither the height of the tree nor the depth of the cavity, is the least security. This is the black snake, who frequently glides up the trunk of the tree, and, like a skulking savage, enters the woodpecker's peaceful apartment, devours the eggs, or helpless young, in spite of the cries and flutterings of the parents, and, if the place is large enough, coils himself up in the spot they occupied, where he will sometimes remain several days.

The Ivory-billed Woodpecker.—Wilson says, "I found one of these birds while travelling in North Carolina. It was slightly wounded in the wing, and, on being caught, uttered a loudly-reiterated and most piteous note, exactly like the violent crying of a child, which terrified my horse very much. It was distressing to hear it. I carried it with me under cover to Wilmington. In passing through the streets, its affecting cries surprised every one within hearing, especially the females, who hurried to the doors and windows with looks of anxiety and alarm. I rode on, and on arriving at the piazza of the hotel where I intended to put up, the landlord came forward, and a number of persons who happened to be there, all equally alarmed at what they heard; this was greatly increased by my asking whether he could furnish me with accommodations for myself and baby. The man looked foolish, and the others stared with astonishment. After diverting myself a few minutes at their expense, I drew out my woodpecker, and a general laugh took place. I took him up stairs, and locked him up in my room, and tied him with a string to the table. I then went out to procure him some food. On my return, I had the mortification to find that he had entirely ruined the mahogany table, on which he had wreaked his whole vengeance. I kept him three days, but, refusing all sustenance, he died, to my great regret."

This is a large genus of birds, consisting of two hundred species, distinguished by the peculiar structure of the bill, which assists them in climbing. They are gregarious, have generally very brilliant plumage, and inhabit warm regions.

Anecdotes.—The gray parrot often lives to a great age. We are told by Le Vaillant of one which lived in the family of Mr. Huyser, in Amsterdam, for thirty-two years; had previously lived forty-one with that gentleman's uncle; and there can be little doubt that it was two or three years old at the time of its arrival in Europe. In the day of its vigor, it used to speak with great distinctness, repeat many sentences, fetch its master's slippers, call the servants, &c. At the age of sixty, its memory began to fail. It moulted regularly twice a year, till the age of sixty-five, when the red feathers of the tail gave place to yellow ones, after which, no other change of plumage took place. When Le Vaillant saw it, it was in a state of complete decrepitude, and, having lost its sight and memory, had lapsed into a sort of lethargic condition, and was fed at intervals with biscuit dipped in Madeira.

Leo, son of the Emperor Basilius Macedo, was accused, by a monk, of having a design upon the life of his father, and was thereupon cast into prison, from which he was freed through the instrumentality of a parrot. The emperor, upon a certain occasion, entertained some of the greatest nobles of his court. They were all seated, when a parrot, which was hung up in the hall, in a mournful tone cried out, "Alas! alas! poor Prince Leo!" It is very probable that he had frequently heard courtiers passing, bewailing the prince's hard fortune in those terms. He frequently repeated these words, which at last so affected the courtiers that they could not eat. The emperor observed it, and entreated them to make a hearty repast; when one of them, with tears in his eyes, said, "How should we eat, sire, when we are thus reproached by this bird of our want of duty to your family? The brute animal is mindful of its lord; and we, that have reason, have neglected to supplicate your majesty in behalf of the prince, whom we all believe to be innocent, and to suffer under calumny." The emperor, moved by these words, commanded them to fetch Leo out of prison, admitted him to his presence, and restored him, first to his favor, and then to his former dignities.

Buffon says, "I have seen a parrot very ridiculously employed, belonging to a distiller who had suffered pretty severely in his circumstances from an informer that lived opposite him. This bird was taught to pronounce the ninth commandment,—'Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor,' with a very clear, loud, articulate voice. The bird was generally placed in a cage over against the informer's house, and delighted the whole neighborhood with its persevering exhortations."

Some years since, a parrot in Boston, that had been taught to whistle in the manner of calling a dog, was sitting in his cage at the door of a shop. As he was exercising himself in this kind of whistle, a large dog happened to be passing the spot; the animal, imagining that he heard the call of his master, turned suddenly about, and ran towards the cage of the parrot. At this critical moment, the bird exclaimed vehemently, "Get out, you brute!" The astonished dog hastily retreated, leaving the parrot to enjoy the joke.

The domestic cock is the origin of all the varieties of the domestic fowl, and is supposed to have come originally from Asia. It was brought to America by the first settlers.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—A short time since, a farmer in Ohio heard loud talking and angry words among his fowls, and, being a man of pacific disposition, bent his course towards the scene of cackling and confusion. Arrived in the vicinity, he observed his favorite cock engaged in mortal combat with a striped snake, dealing his blows with bill and spurs in quick succession, and with true pugilistic skill. But the wily serpent, well aware that, in order to beat his powerful antagonist, he must use cunning, seized him by the thigh in the rear. Thus situated, the cock rose on his wings, and lighted on an apple-tree, the snake keeping fast hold, and dangling down like a taglock. It then coiled its tail round a branch of the tree. The cock tried again to escape, but, not being able to disengage himself, hung with his head down. In this melancholy situation he was found by the farmer, who instantly killed the snake, and set chanticleer at liberty.

The following is a remarkable instance of the degree to which the natural apprehension for her brood may be overcome, in the hen, by the habit of nursing ducks. A hen, who had reared three broods of ducks in three successive years, became habituated to their taking the water, and would fly to a large stone in the middle of the pond, and patiently and quietly watch her brood as they swam about it. The fourth year she hatched her own eggs, and finding that her chickens did not take to the water as the ducklings had done, she flew to the stone in the pond, and called them to her with the utmost eagerness. This recollection of the habits of her former charge, though it had taken place a year before, is strongly illustrative of memory in a hen.

"I have just witnessed," says Count de Buffon, "a curious scene. A sparrow-hawk alighted in a populous court-yard; a young cock, of this year's hatching, instantly darted at him, and threw him on his back. In this situation, the hawk, defending himself with his talons and his bill, intimidated the hens and turkeys, which screamed tumultuously around him. After having a little recovered himself, he rose and was taking wing; when the cock rushed upon him a second time, upset him, and held him down so long, that he was easily caught by a person who witnessed the conflict."

This splendid bird was brought originally from Asia, but it is now common in Europe, especially in the parks and preserves of England, where it lives in a wild state.

Anecdotes.—"It is not uncommon," says Warwick, "to see an old pheasant feign itself wounded, and run along the ground, fluttering and crying, before either dog or man, to draw them away from its helpless, unfledged young ones. As I was hunting with a young pointer, the dog ran on a brood of very small pheasants; the old bird cried, fluttered, and ran tumbling along just before the dog's nose, till she had drawn him to a considerable distance, when she took wing, and flew still farther off. On this the dog returned to me, near the place where the young ones were still concealed in the grass. This the old bird no sooner perceived, than she flew back again to us, settled just before the dog's nose, and, by rolling and tumbling about, drew off his attention from her young, thus preserving them a second time."

A turkey cock, a common cock, and a pheasant, were kept in the same farm-yard. After some time, the turkey was sent away to another farm. After his departure, the cock and pheasant had a quarrel; the cock beat, and the pheasant disappeared. In a few days he returned, accompanied by the turkey; the two allies together fell upon the unfortunate cock, and killed him.

This bird is called pheasant at the south, and partridge in the Eastern States.

The following incident in relation to it is extracted from the "Cabinet of Natural History:" "I once started a hen pheasant with a single young one, seemingly only a few days old; there might have been more, but I perceived only this one. The mother fluttered before me for a moment; but, suddenly darting towards the young one, she seized it in her bill, and flew off along the surface through the woods, with great steadiness and rapidity, till she was beyond my sight. I made a very active and close search for others, but did not find any."

This genus includes a great variety of doves and pigeons, all of which are remarkable for their tenderness and constancy.

The Passenger Pigeon.—Audubon gives us the following description of a forest in Ohio, which was the resort of the passenger pigeon: "Every thing proved to me that the number of birds resorting to this place must be immense beyond conception. As the period of their arrival approached, a great number of persons collected, and prepared to receive them. Some were furnished with iron pots, containing brimstone; others with torches of pine-knots; many with poles, and the rest with guns. Two farmers had driven upwards of two hundred hogs more than a hundred miles, to be fattened upon the devoted pigeons! The sun was lost to our view, yet not a pigeon had arrived. Every thing was ready, and all eyes were gazing on the clear sky, when suddenly there burst forth a general cry of 'Here they come!' The noise that they made, though far distant, reminded me of a hard gale at sea through the rigging of a close-reefed vessel. As the birds arrived, and passed over me, I felt a current of air that surprised me. Thousands were soon knocked down by the pole-men. The birds continued to pour in. The fires were lighted, and a magnificent as well as terrifying sight presented itself. Pigeons, arriving in thousands, alighted every where, one over another, until solid masses as large as hogsheads were formed on the branches all around. It was a scene of uproar and confusion. I found it quite useless to speak, or even to shout, to those persons nearest to me. This uproar continued all night. Towards day the pigeons began to move off, and at sunrise, all that could fly had disappeared: the dead and the dying were then picked up and piled in heaps, while the hogs were let loose to feed on the remainder."

Musical Pigeon.—Bertoni, a famous instructor in music, while residing in Venice, took a pigeon for his companion, and, being very fond of birds, made a great pet of it. The pigeon, by being constantly in his master's company, obtained so perfect an ear for music, that no one who saw his behavior could doubt for a moment the pleasure it took in hearing his master play and sing.

Carrier Pigeon.—Some years ago, two persons arrived in London, from Antwerp, with 110 pigeons, to be thrown off there for the purpose of ascertaining whether they would find their way back, and if so, in what time they would perform the journey. The pigeons were contained in eight enclosures, constructed of wire and canvass, and capable of admitting a sufficiency of air to the birds, and at the top of each was a trap door of tin. The baskets were all placed side by side, and at a given signal, on Monday morning at eight o'clock, the doors were all lifted up, and out rushed all the pigeons at the same instant. They rose in a flock, and bent their way immediately in the direction of home. The men set off on foot shortly after, with certificates of the hour of departure. Most of the pigeons reached Antwerp the same day, the swiftest bird having arrived there in five hours and a half: the distance he flew was 186 miles!

This order includes a number of remarkable birds, some of great size. Most of them live on fish; while others eat grain and insects.

Of this enormous bird we have the following account: A young one, about five feet high, was taken and tamed at Sierra Leone. It was fed in the large dining-hall, and at dinner-time always took its place behind its master's chair—frequently before the guests entered. The servants were obliged to watch their provisions narrowly, and defend them from the crane by means of switches; but notwithstanding all their precaution, it would frequently snatch something or other, and once purloined a whole boiled fowl, which it swallowed in an instant. When threatened with punishment, it would open its enormous bill, and roar like a bear or tiger. It swallowed every thing whole, and on one occasion took, at one mouthful, a leg of mutton weighing five or six pounds.

A traveller in Russia tells us the following curious story: He was one evening riding near a village, when he saw a number of people in a field assembled round some object. He went to the spot, and saw two storks lying dead upon the ground. One of the bystanders said that the storks had a nest in the field, and that, not long before, the hen bird, who was sitting, left the nest in search of food. During her absence, a species of hawk very common in the country, seeing the eggs unprotected, pounced upon them and sucked them. A short time after this, the male bird, who had been away for food, returned, and finding the eggs destroyed, he threw himself down upon the shells, and gave way to every demonstration of grief.

In the mean time, the female returned, and as soon as he observed her, as if to reproach her for leaving the nest, he ran up and attacked her with his beak, and, seizing her between his claws, soared up with her to a great height. He then compressed his own wings, and both falling to the ground together, were instantly killed!

The Penny Magazine gives us the following story: "On the day of the memorable battle of Friedland, a farm in the neighborhood of the city was set on fire by the falling of a bomb. The conflagration spread to an old tree in which a couple of storks had built their nest. The mother would not leave this until it was completely devoured by flames. She then flew up perpendicularly, and dashed down into the midst of the fire, as if endeavoring to rescue her precious charge from destruction. At last, enveloped in fire and smoke, she fell into the midst of the blazing embers, and perished."

In Westmoreland, England, there were, some years ago, two groves adjoining a park, one of which, for many years, had been the resort of a number of herons; the other was occupied by rooks. At length, the trees tenanted by the herons, consisting of some fine old oaks, were cut down in the spring of 1775, and the young ones had perished by the fall of the timber. The parent birds immediately set about preparing new habitations to breed again; but not finding any other in the neighborhood high enough for them, they determined to effect a settlement in the rookery. The rooks made an obstinate resistance; but after a very violent contest, in which the herons finally triumphed, they built their nests and reared their young. The next season, the same contest took place; but victory declared, as before, for the herons. After this, peace was agreed upon, and they lived together in harmony in different parts of the same grove.

During the French revolutionary war, when the English were expected to make a descent upon St. Domingo, a negro, having perceived, at the distance of some miles, in the direction of the sea, a long file of flamingoes, ranked up and priming their wings, forthwith magnified them into an army of English soldiers; their long necks were mistaken for shouldered muskets, and their scarlet plumage suggested the idea of a military costume. The poor fellow accordingly started off to Gonalves, running through the streets, and vociferating that the English were come! Upon this alarm, the commandant of the garrison instantly sounded the tocsin, doubled the guards, and sent out a body of men to reconnoitre the invaders; but he soon found, by means of his glass, that it was only a troop of red flamingoes, and the corps of observation marched back to the garrison, rejoicing at their bloodless expedition.

Mr. Scott, of Benholm, near Montrose, many years ago caught a sea-gull, whose wings he cut, and put it into a walled garden, for the purpose of destroying slugs, of which these birds are very fond. It throve remarkably well in this situation, and remained about the place for several years. The servants were much attached to this animal, and it became so familiar that it came, at their call, to the kitchen door to be fed, and answered to the name of Willie. At length it became so domesticated, that no pains were taken to keep its wings cut; and having at last acquired their full plume, it flew away, and joined the other gulls on the beach, occasionally paying a visit to its old quarters. At the time the gulls annually leave that part of the coast, Willie also took his departure along with them, to the no small regret of the family, who were much attached to him. Next season, however, Willie again made his appearance, and visited the delighted family of Mr. Scott with his wonted familiarity. They took care to feed him well, to induce him, if possible, to become a permanent resident. But all would not do, for he annually left Benholm. This practice he regularly continued, for the extraordinary length of forty years, without intermission, and seemed to have much pleasure in this friendly intercourse. While he remained on that part of the coast, he usually paid daily visits to his friends at Benholm, answered to his name, and even fed out of their hands.

One year the gulls appeared on the coast, at their ordinary time; but Willie did not, as was usual, pay his respects immediately on reaching that neighborhood—from which they concluded that their favorite visitant was numbered with the dead, which caused them much sorrow. About ten days after, during breakfast, a servant entered the room exclaiming that Willie had returned. The overjoyed family, one and all of them, ran out to welcome Willie; an abundant supply of food was set before him, and he partook of it with his former frankness, and was as tame as a domestic fowl. In about two years afterwards, this bird disappeared forever. The above facts are confirmatory of the great age which the gull has been said to attain.

It is well known that this bird is taught by the Chinese to fish for them. A gentleman of Scotland some years ago obtained two young ones, which he succeeded in domesticating. They soon learned to fish on their own account, and when satisfied, would amuse themselves by quitting and retaking their prey. They sometimes remained for a whole day on board of ships when they were kindly treated, and when these sailed, they would accompany their friends to sea for a few miles. They were very familiar, but would not submit to be teased. When shot at, they always flew to the first person they saw belonging to their master's family, for protection. Their owner had their heads painted white, in order to distinguish them from the wild ones with whom they frequently associated.

At Abbotsbury, in Dorsetshire, there was formerly a noble swannery, the property of the Earl of Ilchester, where six or seven hundred were kept; but from the mansion being almost deserted by the family, this collection has of late years been much diminished.

A female swan, while in the act of sitting, observed a fox swimming towards her from the opposite shore. She instantly darted into the water, and having kept him at bay for a considerable time with her wings, at last succeeded in drowning him; after which, in the sight of several persons, she returned in triumph. This circumstance took place at Pensy, in Buckinghamshire.

Miscellaneous Anecdotes.—"An old goose," says an English writer, "that had been for a fortnight sitting in a farmer's kitchen, was perceived on a sudden to be taken violently ill. She soon after left her nest, and repaired to an outhouse, where there was a young goose, which she brought into the kitchen. The young one immediately scrabbled into the old one's nest, sat, hatched, and afterwards brought up, the young goslings as her own. The old goose, as soon as the young one had taken her place, sat down by the side of the nest, and shortly afterwards died. As the young goose had never been in the habit of entering the kitchen before, it is supposed that she had in some way received information of the wants of the sick goose, which she accordingly administered to in the best way she could."

An English gentleman had some years ago a Canadian goose, which attached itself to a house dog. Whenever he barked, she cackled, ran at the person the dog barked at, and bit his heels. She would not go to roost at night with the other geese, but remained near the kennel, which, however, she never entered, except in rainy weather. When the dog went to the village, the goose always accompanied him, contriving to keep pace with him by the assistance of her wings; and in this way she followed him all over the parish. This extraordinary affection is supposed to have originated in the dog having rescued her from a foe in the very moment of distress.

Captain L., of New Jersey, while lying at anchor with his schooner off Poole's Island, in the Chesapeake Bay, observed a wild goose, which had been wounded, attempt to fly from the top of a hill to the water; but being unable to reach its place of destination, it alighted about midway down the hill, where some cattle were grazing; one of which, seeing the stranger, walked up, as is commonly the case, to smell it. The goose, not fancying this kind of introduction, seized the ox by the nose with so much firmness as to set the creature bellowing; and he actually ran off a considerable distance before he could disengage the goose from its hold.

This is a class of animals between birds and fishes, generally crawling or swimming, of a cold temperature, sluggish habits, slow digestion, and obtuse senses. They include serpents, lizards, tortoises, frogs, toads, salamanders, the proteus and siren. The reptilia are divided into four orders, the division being founded upon the difference in the quantity of their respiration, and the diversity of their organs of motion.

These animals are of various sizes, some living on the land, and some on the sea. They are remarkable for longevity. Mr. Murray says, "The size to which this creature occasionally attains is quite monstrous. I remember, some years ago, to have seen one, then semi-torpid, exhibited near Exeter 'Change, London, which weighed several hundred weight. Its shell was proportionably thick, and its other dimensions bore a corresponding ratio. It was stated to be about eight hundred years old."

The more formidable species of this tribe are inhabitants of the warmer countries of the globe. The larger kinds prey upon animals, the smaller upon insects.

In crossing the Ba-Woolima, Mungo Park's attendant, Isaaco, met with a strange and nearly fatal adventure. In attempting to drive six asses across the river, just as he had reached the middle, a crocodile rose close to him, and instantly seizing him by the left thigh, pulled him under water. With wonderful presence of mind, he felt the head of the animal, and thrust his finger into its eye. This forced it to quit its hold: it soon, however, returned to the charge, and, seizing him by the other thigh, again pulled him under water. Isaaco had recourse to the same expedient, and thrust his fingers a second time into its eyes with such force, that it again quitted him, rose to the surface, floundered about as if stupid, and then swam down the stream. Isaaco, in the mean time, reached the bank of the river, bleeding very much—the wound in his left thigh being four inches long, that on the right somewhat less, but very deep, besides several single teeth-marks on his back. In six days, however, he recovered so as to be able to travel.

At Chantilly, in France, there was, in the year 1828, a crocodile so perfectly tame and well-disposed, that he was caressed with impunity by the keeper, who endeavored, although not always with success, to induce visitors to follow his example. He never attempted to bite any one, but seemed pleased by being fondled.

This creature is similar in habits and appearance to the crocodile. It is found only in America, and is most abundant in the tropical regions. The anecdotes which display its ferocity are numerous; but we choose one which exhibits it in a different character. Mr. Jesse had one which he made so perfectly tame, that it followed him about the house like a dog, scrambling up the stairs after him, and showing much affection and docility. Its great favorite, however, was a cat; and the friendship was mutual. When the cat was reposing herself before the fire, the alligator would lay himself down, place his head upon the cat, and in this attitude go to sleep. If the cat was absent, the alligator was restless; but he always appeared happy when puss was near him. The only instance in which he showed any ferocity was in attacking a fox, which was tied up in the yard. Probably, however, the fox had resented some playful advances which the other had made, and thus called forth the anger of the alligator. In attacking the fox, he did not make use of his mouth, but beat him with so much severity with his tail, that, had not the chain which confined the fox broken, he would probably have killed him. The alligator was fed on raw flesh, and sometimes with milk, for which he showed great fondness. In cold weather, he was shut up in a box, with wool in it; but having been forgotten one frosty night, he was found dead in the morning.

Recently, as David Virtue, a mason in Scotland, was dressing a heavy barley millstone from a large block, after cutting away a part, he found a lizard of this species imbedded in the stone. It was about an inch and a quarter long, of a brownish-yellow color, and had a round head, with bright, sparkling, projecting eyes. When first found, it was apparently dead; but after being about five minutes exposed to the air, it showed signs of life. It soon became lively, and ran about with much celerity; and about half an hour after the discovery, was brushed off the stone, and killed. When found, it was coiled up in a round cavity of its own form, being an exact impression of the animal. There were about fourteen feet of earth above the rock, and the block in which the lizard was found was seven or eight feet in the rock; so that the whole depth of the animal from the surface was twenty-one or twenty-two feet. The stone had no fissure, was quite hard, and one of the best which is got from the quarry of Cullaloe; the stone is reckoned one of the hardest in Scotland.

This order of animals is greatly diversified in their size, color, and qualities. Some are but five inches in length, and others reach the enormous extent of thirty feet. Some are inoffensive, and others are in the highest degree venomous. They are in general regarded with horror by mankind, and a universal instinct seems to call upon us to destroy them.

Anecdotes.—Mr. Strohecker, of Pennsylvania, had a daughter three years of age, who, for a number of successive days, was remarked to leave home with a piece of bread in her hand, and go to a considerable distance. The mother's attention was attracted by the circumstance, who desired the father to follow the infant, and observe what she did with the bread. On coming up to her, he found she was busy feeding several snakes called bastard-rattlesnakes. He immediately took the infant away, and proceeded to his house for his gun, and on returning killed two of them at a shot, and another a few days afterwards. The child called these reptiles, in the same manner as chickens are called; and when her father told her she would certainly be bitten by them if she attempted it again, she innocently replied, "No, father, they won't bite me; they only eat the bread I give them."

It has been a common opinion that serpents possess a peculiar power of fascination. This is probably a vulgar error; yet the following story is told of the daughter of a Dutch farmer near Niagara. It was on a warm summer day that she was sent to spread out wet clothes upon some shrubbery near the house. Her mother conceived that she remained longer than was necessary, and seeing her standing unoccupied at some distance, she called to her several times, but no answer was returned. On approaching, she found her daughter pale, motionless, and fixed in an erect posture. The perspiration rolled down her brow, and her hands were clinched convulsively. A large rattlesnake lay on a log opposite the girl, waving his head from side to side, and kept his eyes steadfastly fastened upon her. The mother instantly struck the snake with a stick; and the moment he made off, the girl recovered herself, and burst into tears, but was for some time so weak and agitated that she could not walk home.

A Thief.—A correspondent of the Penny Magazine, who lived close to the outlet of a small lake, used to bestow a great deal of care and attention upon the rearing of young ducklings; but, after all, he had the mortification to find his efforts fruitless. The old ones would hatch fine healthy broods; but as soon as they were strong enough to waddle to a sedgy stream that issued from the adjoining lake, one or two daily disappeared, to the gentleman's great annoyance. Having suffered these continual depredations for two or three seasons, he one day noticed a nice duckling gradually disappear under the water; but judge of his surprise when he beheld a large bull-frog crawl out upon the prostrate trunk of a tree, with the duckling's feet still protruding from his capacious mouth! The mystery was thus solved; the bull-frogs had swallowed all the young ducks!

Curious.—Some years ago, the city of Metz was afflicted by one among the seven plagues of Egypt, namely, frogs; certain streets were filled with these animals, and no one was able to conjecture from whence they came, until it was explained by a dealer in frogs applying to the tribunals for the recovery of his property. He had shut up about six thousand frogs, designed for food, in a particular place belonging to the fish-market, where they were discovered by some children, who took part away to sell, and on leaving the troughs in the fish-market, forgot to close them. Profiting by the opening thus left, the frogs began to spread themselves in various parts, and even got into some of the neighboring houses, whose inhabitants found much difficulty in ejecting the unwelcome intruders.

An Escape.—A butcher in Glasgow found an ordinary-sized living frog in the stomach of a cow, which he had just killed. When laid down, it was full of spirit, and leaped about the slaughter-house, to the astonishment of a considerable crowd. The cow was killed between three and four o'clock in the afternoon; it was supposed she had swallowed the frog when drinking.

Not the least wonderful part of the history of the toad is the circumstance of its being frequently found in the bed of solid rocks, and the internal cavities of trees.

Anecdotes.—We find it mentioned in the "Edinburgh Philosophical Journal," that "a specimen of a toad, which was taken alive from the centre of a solid mass of stone, has been sent to the College Museum of Edinburgh by Lord Duncan." It is mentioned, in the "Transactions of the Academy of Sciences," at Paris, that a live toad was found in the centre of an elm-tree, and another in an oak. Both trees were quite sound, and in a healthy condition. To these facts we may add another: It is related by Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, who is a close observer of nature, that, on his estate in East Lothian, a large toad was found in the heart of a smooth, straight beech-tree, at the height of thirty feet from the ground, where it was confined in a circular hole.

A gentleman who resided at Keswick, England, one evening in the latter end of July, observed a rustling among the strawberries in his garden, and on examining what it was, found that a toad had just seized a field-mouse, which had got on the toad's back, scratching and biting to get released, but in vain. The toad kept his hold, and, as the strength of the mouse failed, he gradually drew the unfortunate little animal into his mouth, and gorged him.

Fishes are extremely numerous in species, and many of them are little known. They are found in every ocean, sea, lake, or river,—under the dreary skies of the poles, and the burning latitude of the tropics. Being the tenants of an element which excludes them from the familiar observation of man, we have fewer anecdotes of them than of those classes which we have already noticed. We shall therefore only attempt to present a few of the most striking that have come to our notice.

The mackerel is one of the most voracious of all fishes; and when they get among a shoal of herrings, they make such havoc as frequently to drive it off the coast. Pontoppidan informs us that a sailor, belonging to a ship lying in a harbor of Norway, went into the water to wash himself, when he was suddenly missed by his companions. In the course of a few minutes, however, he was seen on the surface with vast numbers of mackerels fastened to him. The people went to his assistance in a boat, and tore the fishes from him; but it was too late; for he very shortly afterwards expired from the effects of the wounds he had received, and from the loss of blood.

The extraordinary power of this fish is shown by the following statement, from the Penny Magazine: "In repairing his Britannic majesty's ship Leopard, in 1725, on her return from the coast of Guinea, a sword of this fish was found to have gone through the sheathing one inch, next through a three-inch plank, and, beyond that, four inches and a half in the firm timber. It was the opinion of mechanics that it would require nine strokes of a hammer weighing twenty-five pounds to drive an iron bolt, of similar size and form, to the same depth in the hull; yet this was accomplished by a single thrust."

Anecdotes.—The rapacity of this fish is notorious. Jesse says, "Out of eight hundred gudgeons, which were brought to me by a Thames fisherman, and which I saw counted into the reservoir,—some few of which, however, died,—there were scarcely any to be seen at the end of three weeks. Indeed, the appetite of one of my pike was almost insatiable. One morning, I threw to him, one after the other, five roach, each about four inches in length. He swallowed four of them, and kept the fifth in his mouth for about a quarter of an hour, when it also disappeared."

The pike is an animal of extraordinary boldness. A few years ago, the head keeper of Richmond Park was washing his hands at the side of a boat, in the great pond, when a pike made a dart at one of his hands, which the keeper suddenly withdrew, otherwise he would have received a severe snap.

Mr. Jesse says, "Fish appear to be capable of entertaining affection for each other. I once caught a female pike during the spawning season, and nothing could drive the male away from the spot at which the female disappeared, whom he had followed to the very edge of the water. A person who had kept two small fish together in a glass, gave one of them away; the other refused to eat, and showed evident symptoms of unhappiness, till his companion was restored to him."

In the year 1497, a pike was caught, in standing water, at Heilbronn, on the Neckar, which had a copper ring round its head; the ring bore the following inscription in Greek: "I am the first fish that was launched into this pond, and was thrown in by Frederick the Second, emperor of the Romans, on the 5th of October, 1230." It appeared, therefore, that the pike was two hundred and fifty-seven years old when thus caught; it weighed three hundred and fifty pounds; and an exact representation of it exists to this day upon one of the gates of Heilbronn.

This beautiful fish was first introduced into England about the year 1691. It is a native of China, where they are very common in ponds. They are, however, very delicate, and unable to stand the powerful rays of the sun; on which account, in each of the ponds where they are kept, earthenware basins, with holes in them, are placed upside down, so that the fishes may retire under them for shade. In China these fish are taught to rise to the surface of the water, to be fed, at the sound of a bell. In very cold weather, they are frequently taken into the house, to prevent them from being frozen.

There are several varieties of this beautiful fish,—some of them appearing all speckled over with golden dust; others are pure silvery white; some are spotted with red and white; and a fourth variety is black and white, spotted.

Many of these, of a large size, may be seen in the ponds at the royal gardens of the Tuileries, at Paris. They are perfectly tame, and follow individuals round the ponds in hopes of being fed.

Some years ago, a herdsman, on a very sultry day in July, while looking for a missing sheep, observed an eagle posted on a bank that overhung a pool. Presently the bird stooped and seized a salmon, and a violent struggle ensued: when the herdsman reached the spot, he found the eagle pulled under water by the strength of the fish; and the calmness of the day, joined to his drenched plumage, rendered him unable to extricate himself. With a stone, the peasant broke the eagle's pinion, and separated the spoiler from his victim, which was dying in his grasp.

About fifty years ago, the shoals of herrings came into Loch Urn, Scotland, in such amazing quantities, that, from the narrows to the head, about two miles, it was quite full. So many of them were forced ashore by the pressure, that the beach, for four miles round the head, was covered with them from six to eighteen inches deep; and the ground under water, as far as could be seen, was in the same condition. Indeed, so dense and forcible was the shoal, as to carry before it every other kind of fish; even ground-fish, skate, flounders, and plaice, were driven on shore with the force of the herrings, and perished there.

It is a curious fact, that herrings die the moment they are taken out of the water; whence originated the adage, which is much used, as dead as a herring.

This formidable animal is the dread of mankind in the seas where it is found. There is no safety in bathing where this monster abounds.

The late Sir Brooke Watson was at one time swimming at a little distance from a ship, when he observed a shark approaching towards him. Struck with terror at its appearance, he immediately cried out for assistance. A rope was instantly thrown out for him; and even while the men were in the act of pulling him up the ship's side, the shark darted after him, and at a single snap derived him of one leg.

In the West Indies, the negroes have frequently the hardihood to engage the shark in single combat, by diving beneath him, and, in ascending, stab him before he sees where they are. In these combats they frequently conquer this formidable creature; and thus, through courage and tactics, overcome his great strength and ferocity.

We come now to the second grand division of the animal kingdom—the Invertebrata Animals—those which, instead of an internal skeleton, have, for the most part, an external shell, or framework, by means of which the fleshy parts are sustained.

There is a singular genus of animals, called Sepia, of which the cuttle-fish is a familiar example. Some of them are of great size, having arms nearly thirty feet in length. We are told of a Sardinian captain, who, while bathing, felt one of his feet in the grasp of a squid; he instantly tried to disengage himself with his other foot, but this limb was immediately seized by another of the monster's arms. He then with his hands endeavored to free himself, but these also, in succession, were firmly grasped by the creature, and the poor man was shortly after found drowned, with all his limbs strongly bound together by the arms and legs of the fish; and it is extraordinary that, where this happened, the water was scarcely four feet deep.

Mr. Beale gives us the following narrative: "While upon the Bonni Islands, searching for shells, I one day saw, towards the surf, a most extraordinary-looking animal, crawling upon the beach. It was creeping on eight soft and flexible legs, and, on seeing me, made every effort to escape. To prevent this, I pressed one of its legs with my foot; but it quickly liberated the member. I then laid hold of it with my hand, and gave it a powerful jerk, which it resisted by clinging with its suckers to the rock; but the moment after, the apparently enraged animal let go its hold, and sprang upon my arm, which I had previously bared to the shoulder, and clinging to it with great force, endeavored to get its beak between its arms in a position to bite.

"A sensation of horror pervaded my whole frame. Its cold, slimy grasp was extremely sickening, and I immediately called to the captain, who accompanied me, and who was at a little distance, to come and release me from my disgusting assailant. He came and set me free, by cutting my tormentor apart with his boat-knife. It must have measured four feet across its extended arms, while its body was not larger than a clinched hand. This was of that species called by whalers 'rock squid.'"

In some places, where the sea is not agitated by winds, great numbers of these singular creatures may occasionally be seen sailing and sporting about. Le Vaillant observed several of them on the sea near the Cape of Good Hope; and, as he was desirous of obtaining perfect specimens of the shells, he sent some of his people into the water to catch them; but when the men had got their hands within a certain distance, they always instantly sank, and, with all the art that could be employed, they were not able to lay hold of a single one. The instinct of the animal showed itself superior to all their subtlety; and when their disappointed master called them away from their attempts, they expressed themselves not a little chagrined at being outwitted by a shell-fish.

M. de Martens states that the annual export of snails from Ulm, by the Danube, for the purpose of being used as food in the season of Lent by the convents of Austria, amounted formerly to ten millions of these animals. They were fattened in the gardens in the neighborhood.

Mr. Rowe gives us the following account: "I was at Mr. Haddock's," says he, "in Kent, and was making a little shell-work tower, to stand on a cabinet in a long gallery. Sea-shells running short before I had finished, I recollected having seen some pretty large snails on the chalk hills, and we all went out one evening to pick up some. On our return, I procured a large China basin, and putting a handful or two of them into it, filled it up with boiling water. I poured off the first water, and filled the bowl again. I then carried it into a summer-house in the garden. Next morning, how great was my surprise, on entering the summer-house, to find the poor snails crawling about, some on the edge of the basin, some tumbling over, some on the table, and one or two actually eating paste that was to stick them on! I picked up every snail carefully, and carried them into a field, where I make no doubt that they perfectly recovered from their scalding."

A gentleman who lived at Salisbury, England, used to keep a pet oyster, of the largest and finest breed. He fed it on oatmeal, for which it regularly opened its shell. It also proved itself an excellent mouser, having killed five mice, by crushing the heads of such as, tempted by the meal, had the audacity to intrude their noses within its bivalvular clutches.

A great number of large creeks and rivers wander through the marshes on the seaboard of Georgia. Whenever the tide bends forcibly against the land, the effects are counteracted by the walls of living oysters which grow upon each other from the beds of the rivers to the very verge of the banks. They are in such abundance, that a vessel of a hundred tons might load herself in three times her length. Bunches of them sufficient to fill a bushel are found matted as it were together, and the neighboring inhabitants and laborers light fires upon the marsh grass, roll a bunch of oysters upon it, and then eat them.

The Great Scallop has the power of progressive motion upon the land, and likewise of swimming on the surface of the water. When it happens to be deserted by the tide, it opens its shell to the full extent, then shuts it with a sudden jerk, often rising five or six inches from the ground. In this manner, it tumbles forward until it regains the water.

When the sea is calm, troops of little fleets of scallops, it is said, are sometimes to be observed swimming on the waves. They elevate one valve above the top of the water, which is used as a kind of sail, while they float on the other, which remains on the surface.

These animals have not an internal skeleton, like the vertebrata; nor are they wholly destitute of a skeleton, as are the mollusca. The hard parts are external, and the muscles are internal. The class includes red-blooded worms, the crustacea, spiders, and insects.

If you ever pass through La Brienne, in France, you will see a man pale, and straight-haired, with a woollen cap on his head, and his legs and arms naked. He walks along the borders of a marsh, among the spots left dry by the surrounding waters, but particularly wherever the vegetation seems to present the subjacent soil undisturbed. This man is a leech-fisher. To see him at a distance,—his hollow aspect, livid lips, and singular gestures,—you would take him for a patient who had left his sick bed in a fit of delirium. If you observe him every now and then raising his legs, and examining them one after another, you might suppose him a fool; but he is an intelligent leech-fisher. The leeches attach themselves to his legs and feet, and as he moves along their haunts, he feels them bite, and gathers them as they cluster round the roots of the bulrushes and sea-weeds.

The following incident is from a late English journal: "In the year 1812, a sailor, in company with several persons, at Sunderland, perceived a crab which had wandered to the distance of about three yards from the water-side. An old rat, on the look-out for food, sprang from his lurking-place, and seized the crab, who, in return, raised his forcep-claws, and laid fast hold of the assailant's nose, who hastily retired, squeaking a doleful chant, and much surprised, no doubt, at the reception he had met with.

"The crab retreated as fast as he could towards his own element; but after a short space, the rat renewed the contest, and experienced a second rude embrace from his antagonist. The rat again retreated, but returned again to the attack. After the contest had lasted half an hour, the crab, though much exhausted, had nearly reached the sea, when the rat made a sudden spring, and capsized his antagonist; then, taking advantage of this manœuvre, like a successful general, seized the crab by his hind leg. The crab, however, again made his escape in a most mutilated condition; the rat, however, closely pursuing him, soon dragged him back to his den, where he doubtless regaled his wife and family with his hard-earned prey.

"In the year 1833, as a lady in England was in the act of dressing a crab, she found in its stomach a half guinea, of the reign of George III., worn very thin; but some of the letters were so entire as to enable the reign to be traced."

The celebrated Lewenhoek found by microscopic observation that the threads of the minutest spiders, some of which are not larger than a grain of sand, are so fine that it would take four millions of them to make a thread as thick as a hair of his beard. In the early part of the last century, M. Bon, of Languedoc, fabricated a pair of stockings and a pair of gloves from the threads of spiders. They were nearly as strong as silk, and of a beautiful gray color.

The animal ferocity of spiders makes it impossible to keep them together. M. Bon distributed 4 or 5000 spiders into different cells, putting in each cell about 200, and fed them with flies; but the large ones soon devoured the small ones, and in a short time there were only one or two large ones left in each cell.

To test the ingenuity of the spider, a gentleman frequently placed one on a small upright stick, and surrounded the base with water. After having reconnoitred, and discovered that the ordinary means of escape were cut off, it ascended the stick, and, standing nearly on its head, ejected its long web, which the wind soon carried to some contiguous object: along this the sagacious insect effected its escape—not, however, until it had ascertained, by several exertions of its own strength, that its web was securely attached at the end.

This is one of the largest of the insect tribe, and is not less terrible for its size than its malignity. Its sting, in some countries, is fatal. Volchammer put one of these creatures, and a large spider, into a glass vessel. The latter used all its efforts to entangle the scorpion in its web, which it immediately began to spin; but the scorpion stung its adversary to death; it then cut off all its legs, and sucked out the internal parts at its leisure.

The same naturalist shut up a female scorpion with her young in a glass case. She devoured all but one, which took refuge on the back of its parent, and soon revenged the death of its brethren by killing the old one in its turn.

This insect makes a ticking noise by beating its head with great force against whatever it happens to stand on. Two of them were kept in a box by a gentleman for three weeks; and he found that, by imitating their note by beating with the point of a pin or nail upon the table, the insect would answer him as many times as he made the sound.

The female of this insect is very luminous, and has no wings. The light always becomes brighter when the worm is in motion, and it can withdraw it when it pleases. When the light is most brilliant, it emits a sensible heat. When a glowworm is put into a phial, and this is immersed in water, a beautiful irradiation takes place. If the insect be crushed, and the hands and face rubbed with it, they have a luminous appearance, like that produced by phosphorus.

"I was in the habit," says a writer on the Island of Jamaica, "of enclosing, every night, a dozen or more fire-flies under an inverted glass tumbler on my bedroom table, the light of whose bodies enabled me to read without difficulty. They are about the size of a bee, and perfectly harmless. Their coming forth in more than usual numbers is the certain harbinger of rain; and I have frequently, while travelling, met them in such numbers that, be the night ever so dark, the path was as visible as at noonday."

The following account of the Burying Beetle is given by M. Gleditsch, a foreign naturalist. He often remarked that dead moles, when laid upon the ground, especially if upon loose earth, were almost sure to disappear in the course of two or three days, often of twelve hours. To ascertain the cause, he placed a mole upon one of the beds in his garden. It had vanished by the third morning; and, on digging where it had been laid, he found it buried to the depth of three inches, and under it four beetles, which seemed to have been the agents in this singular inhumation. To determine the point more clearly, he put four of these insects into a glass vessel, half filled with earth, and properly secured, and upon the surface of the earth, two frogs. In less than twelve hours, one of the frogs was interred by two of the beetles; the other two ran about the whole day, as if busied in measuring the dimensions of the remaining corpse, which on the third day was also found buried. He then introduced a dead linnet. A pair of the beetles were soon engaged upon the bird. They began their operations by pushing out the earth from under the body, so as to form a cavity for its reception; and it was curious to see the efforts which the beetles made, by dragging at the feathers of the bird from below, to pull it into its grave. The male, having driven the female away, continued the work alone for five hours. He lifted up the bird, changed its place, turned it, and arranged it in the grave, and from time to time came out of the hole, mounted upon it, and trod it under foot, and then retired below, and pulled it down. At length, apparently wearied with this uninterrupted labor, it came forth, and leaned its head upon the earth beside the bird, without the smallest motion, as if to rest itself, for a full hour, when it again crept under the earth. The next day, in the morning, the bird was an inch and a half under ground, and the trench remained open the whole day, the corpse seeming as if laid out upon a bier, surrounded with a rampart of mould. In the evening, it had sunk half an inch lower; and in another day, the work was completed, and the bird covered. M. Gleditsch continued to add other small dead animals, which were all sooner or later buried; and the result of his experiment was, that in fifty days four beetles had interred, in the very small space of earth allotted to them, twelve carcasses: viz., four frogs, three small birds, two fishes, one mole, and two grasshoppers, besides the entrails of a fish, and two morsels of the lungs of an ox.

The Queen Beetle is about one inch and a quarter in length; she carries by her side two brilliant lamps, which she lights up at pleasure with the solar phosphorus furnished her by nature. These lamps do not flash and glimmer like those of the fire-fly, but give as steady a light as that of gas, exhibiting two glowing spheres as large as a minute pearl, which affords light enough, in the darkest night, to enable one to read by them. The queen beetle is found only in tropical climates.

Baron de Geer, a famous Swedish naturalist, gives us the following: "About the end of March I found an earwig brooding over her eggs in a small cell, scooped out in a garden border. In order to watch her proceedings, I removed the eggs into my study, placing them upon fresh earth under a bell-glass. The careful mother soon scooped out a fresh cell, and collected the scattered eggs with great care to the little nest, placing herself over them, to prevent the too rapid evaporation of the moisture. When the earth began to dry up, she dug the cell gradually deeper, till at length she got almost out of view. At last, the cell became too dry, and she removed the eggs to the edge of the glass, where some of the moisture had condensed. Upon observing this, I dropped some water into the abandoned cell, and the mother soon after removed the eggs there. Her subsequent proceedings were no less interesting; but I regret to add that, during my absence, the bell-glass was removed, and the earwig escaped with her eggs."

Mr. Southey describes the perilous situation of a ship sailing to Brazil, which was saved from shipwreck by the singing of a ground cricket. "Three days they stood towards land. A soldier, who had set out in ill health, had brought a ground cricket with him from Cadiz, thinking to be amused by the insect's voice; but it had been silent the whole distance, to his no small disappointment. Now, on the fourth morning, the grillo had begun to ring its shrill rattle, scenting the land. Such was the miserable watch that had been kept, that, upon looking out at this warning, they perceived high rocks within bowshot, against which, had it not been for the insect, they must inevitably have been lost. They had just time to drop anchor. From hence they coasted along, the grillo singing every night as if it had been on shore, till they reached the Islands of St. Catalina."

In China, the people take as much pleasure in cricket fights as the Spaniards do in bull fights. Two crickets are pitted against each other, and crowds of people gather round, to witness the combat. The insects rush at each other with great fury; and the spectators, high and low, rich and poor, seem to experience the most lively sensations of delight.

In July, 1827, the Russian General Cobley had a grand battle with the locusts, on his estate of Coblewka, along the borders of the Sea of Oschakoff. The locusts were marching in twenty-four columns, and were destroying all the crops. General Cobley collected the peasants on his estate, and from all the neighboring country, amounting to five hundred persons. They were armed with pitchforks, spades, drums, and bells; and, thus equipped, they commenced their march against the invaders. They soon compelled them to retreat, and pursued them incessantly towards the sea, where they were forced to jump into the water, and were drowned. Three days afterwards, the sea-shore was covered with the dead locusts, cast up by the waves; the air was infected by a fetid exhalation, and great numbers of poisoned fish were cast up by the waves on the strand. It is probable that the fish had fed on the locusts.

Anecdotes.—In tracing the designs of the cells and galleries, each ant appears to follow its own fancy. A want of accordance must therefore frequently take place at the point where their works join; but they never appear to be embarrassed by any difficulties of this kind. An instance is related, in which two opposite walls were made, of such different elevations, that the ceiling of the one, if continued, would not have reached above half way of the height of the other. An experienced ant, arriving at the spot, seemed struck with the defect, immediately destroyed the lower ceiling, built up the wall to the proper height, and formed a new ceiling with the materials of the former.

In the "Transactions of the French Academy," an account is given of an ant, that was taken from a hill, and thrown upon a heap of corn. It seemed attentively to survey this treasure, and then hastened back to its former abode, where it communicated intelligence of the land of plenty; for an immense host of its brethren quickly made their appearance, and commenced carrying off the grain.

M. Homberg informs us that, in Surinam, there is a species of ant called by the natives the visiting ant. These animals march in large troops, with the same order and precision as do a regularly-constituted army. They are welcome visitors to the natives, on account of their power of exterminating rats, mice, and other noxious animals, with which that country abounds. No sooner do they appear, than all the coffers, chests of drawers, and locked-up places in the house, are thrown open for them, when they immediately commence their work of destruction of animal life, as if commissioned by nature for that purpose. The only regret of the natives is, that they pay their visits but once in three or four years.

Two ants meeting on a path across a gravel-walk, one going to and the other from the nest, stop, touch each other's antennæ, and appear to hold a conversation. One would almost fancy that one was communicating to the other the best place for foraging.

A curious species of manufacture was contrived by an officer of engineers residing at Munich. It consisted of lace veils, with open patterns on them, made entirely by caterpillars. Having made a paste of the leaves of the plant on which the insect feeds, he spread it thinly over a stone, or other flat substance, of the required size. He then, with a camel's hair pencil dipped in olive oil, drew a pattern he wished the insects to leave open. This stone was then placed in an inclined position, and a number of caterpillars were placed at the bottom. A peculiar species was chosen, which spins a strong web, and the animals commenced at the bottom, eating and spinning their way up to the top, carefully avoiding every part touched by the oil, but devouring every other part of the paste. The extreme lightness of these veils, combined with their strength, is surprising.

In June, 1826, a column of butterflies, from ten to fifteen feet broad, was seen to pass over Neufchatel, in Switzerland; the passage lasted upwards of two hours, without any interruption, from the moment when the insects were observed.

A moth was once caught, at Arracan, which measured ten inches from the tip of one wing to the tip of the other, both being variegated with the brightest colors.

The great care bestowed upon this creature in China is shown in the following extract from an old work: "The place where their habitation is built must be retired, free from noisome smells, cattle, and all noises; as a noisome smell, or the least fright, makes great impressions upon so tender a breed; even the barking of dogs, and the crowing of cocks are capable of putting them in disorder when they are newly hatched. For the purpose of paying them every attention, an affectionate mother is provided for their wants; she is called Isan-more, mother of the worms. She takes possession of the chamber, but not till she has washed herself, and put on clean clothes which have not the least ill smell; she must not have eaten any thing before, or have handled any wild succory, the smell of which is very prejudicial; she must be clothed in a plain habit without any lining, that she may be more sensible of the warmth of the place, and accordingly increase or lessen the fire; but she must carefully avoid making a smoke, or raising a dust, which would be very offensive to these tender creatures, which must be carefully tended before the first time of casting their slough."

During the first twenty-four hours of the silkworm's existence, the patient Chinese feeds the objects of her care forty-eight times a day; during the second or third day, thirty times; and so on, reducing the number of meals as the worm grows older.

Sir Arthur Young thus speaks of flies in his "Travels through the South of Europe:" "Flies form the most disagreeable circumstance in the southern climates. They are the first torments in Spain, Italy, and the olive districts of France. It is not that they bite, sting, or hurt; but they buzz, tease, and worry: your mouth, eyes, ears, and nose, are full of them; they swarm on every eatable. Fruit, sugar, milk, every thing, is attacked by them in such myriads, that if they were not driven away, by a person who has nothing else to do, to eat a meal is impossible. If I farmed in these countries, I think I should manure four or five acres of land a year with dead flies."

This class embraces those beings which are the lowest in the animal kingdom—those which have the fewest and most imperfect senses. Indeed, some of them so far resemble plants as to make the point of separation between the animal and vegetable kingdoms almost a matter of uncertainty. They are called radiata, because in most of them an arrangement may be traced, in their formation, like that of rays branching out from a centre. Among the creatures of this class are the star-fish, polypus, sea-anemone, and infusoria.

Captain Basil Hall makes some interesting remarks on the examination of a coral-reef, which is the product of the marine polypi. He observes that, during the different stages of the tide, the changes it undergoes are truly surprising. When the tide has left it for some time, it becomes dry, and appears to be a compact rock, exceedingly hard and rugged; but as the tide rises, and the waves begin to wash over it, the coral worms protrude themselves from holes which before were invisible. These animals are of a great variety of shapes and size, and in such prodigious numbers, that, in a short time, the whole surface of the rock appears to be alive and in motion. The most common worm is in the shape of a star, with arms from four to six inches long, which move in every direction to catch food. Others are so sluggish that they may be taken for pieces of rock, and are of a dark color; others are of a blue or yellow color; while some resemble a lobster in shape.

The Green Polype, or hydra, is found in clear waters, and may generally be seen in great plenty in small ditches and trenches of fields, especially in the months of April and May. It affixes itself to the under parts of leaves, and to the stalks of such vegetables as happen to grow immersed in the same water. The animal consists of a long, tubular body, the head of which is furnished with eight, and sometimes ten long arms, or tentacula, that surround the mouth.

It is of an extremely predacious nature, and feeds on the various species of small worms, and other water animals, that happen to approach. When any animal of this kind passes near the polype, it suddenly catches it with its arms, and, dragging it to its mouth, swallows it by degrees, much in the same manner as a snake swallows a frog. Two of them may sometimes be seen in the act of seizing the same worm at different ends, and dragging it in opposite directions with great force.

When the mouths of both are thus joined together upon one common prey, the largest polype gapes and swallows his antagonist; but, what is more wonderful, the animal thus swallowed seems to be rather a gainer by the misfortune. After it has lain in the conqueror's body for about an hour, it issues unhurt, and often in possession of the prey that had been the original cause of contention. The remains of the animals on which the polype feeds are evacuated at the mouth the only opening in the body. It is capable of swallowing a worm of thrice its own size: this circumstance, though it may appear incredible, is easily understood, when we consider that the body of the polype is extremely extensile, and is dilated, on such occasions, to a surprising degree.

This species are multiplied, for the most part, by a process resembling vegetation—one or two, or even more young ones emerging gradually from the sides of the parent animal; and these young are frequently again prolific before they drop off; so that it is no uncommon thing to see two or three generations at once on the same polype.

This work consists of Twenty Volumes, and contains

five hundred different subjects, and is illustrated by five hundred Engravings.

It is an entirely original series, recently written and completed by S. G. Goodrich, the author of Peter Parley's Tales.

This is the only library that has been expressly written for a School and Family Library. It is adopted into many of the libraries of the leading schools and seminaries in New England and New York, and has been introduced, in the space of a few months, into more than three thousand families, in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia.

The following is a list of the Volumes, each containing about 320 pages, 16mo.:—

BIOGRAPHICAL DEPARTMENT.
Vol.	1.	—Lives of Famous Men of Modern Times.
"	2.	—Lives of Famous Men of Ancient Times.
"	3.	—Curiosities of Human Nature; or, the Lives of Eccentric and Wonderful Persons.
"	4.	—Lives of Benefactors; Including Patriots, Inventors, Discoverers, &c.
"	5.	—Lives of Famous American Indians.
"	6.	—Lives of Celebrated Women.
HISTORICAL DEPARTMENT.
"	7.	—Lights and Shadows of American History.
"	8.	—Lights and Shadows of European History.
"	9.	—Lights and Shadows of Asiatic History.
"	10.	—Lights and Shadows of African History.
"	11.	—History of the American Indians.
"	12.	—Manners, Customs, and Antiquities of the American Indians.
MISCELLANEOUS.
"	13.	—A Glance at the Sciences, Astronomy, Natural Philosophy, &c.
"	14.	—Wonders of Geology.
"	15.	—Anecdotes of the Animal Kingdom.
"	16.	—A Glance at Philosophy, Mental, Moral, and Social.
"	17.	—Book of Literature, Ancient and Modern, with Specimens.
"	18.	—Enterprise, Industry, and Art of Man.
"	19.	—Manners and Customs of all Nations.
"	20.	—The World and its Inhabitants.

These works are designed to exhibit, in a popular form, Select Biographies, Ancient and Modern; the Wonders and Curiosities of History, Nature, Art, Science, and Philosophy, with the Practical Duties of Life.

It cannot be deemed invidious to say, that no similar work has met with equal favor at the hands of the public, as the following testimonials, among many others, will show:—

I view it as the best compendium of useful learning and information, respecting its proposed contents, for the use of young persons and schools, that has fallen within my knowledge. It abounds in illustrations of the history of the world, and the customs and manners of nations, that may be read by general scholars of any age, with pleasure.

I regard the Cabinet Library as a most important accession to the means of intellectual and moral culture, especially in respect to the rising generation. But while it is peculiarly adapted to the young, it may be read by persons of any age with both pleasure and profit. To men of business, who have not leisure to read extensively, and indeed to all who would keep up with the times, the work is invaluable. It is also suited to the various members of the family circle,

and is among the very best of the libraries for public schools. I learn that it is introduced into the public schools of this city, (Albany,) and various other places, and I cannot doubt that it will ultimately be adopted in our seminaries of learning generally.

I have read, with both pleasure and profit, all the numbers of your very instructive Cabinet Library. My friend and namesake, the Rev. Dr. Sprague, has so exactly expressed my opinion of the work, that I need only adopt his language, in recommending it, as I cheerfully do, to the favorable attention of both teachers and learners.

We recommend it (Parley's Cabinet Library) as peculiarly valuable to families. We often see one young man taking precedence of others in the race of life. If we could read his history minutely, we should see the explanation of the case to be, that he had a better head or a better heart than others. Now we know of no works so well calculated to mould the head and heart aright as those of "Peter Parley."

Those parents who wish to have their children "go ahead" in life, should place Parley's Cabinet Library within their reach. We have never seen a work better suited to bestow instruction, or that inculcates truth in a more pleasant fashion.

They are exceedingly agreeable books, and such as young and old may peruse with pleasure and profit. The moral and religious account to which the author turns every subject must render the work peculiarly suitable to the family and the school library. We cheerfully commend the work to the public as one of sterling value.

It is a compact family and school library of substantial reading, which is delightful in point of style, and wholesome in its moral, social, and religious tendency.

This work, now complete, is the most elaborate of the works of the author for the young; and we think it quite the best. It is a library of facts, and seems intended to cultivate a taste for this kind of reading. It is said that "truth is stranger than fiction," and no one who has perused these pages can feel any necessity for seeking excitement in the high-wrought pages of romance. Every subject touched by the author seems invested with a lively interest; and even dry statistics are made, like steel beneath the strokes of the flint, to yield sparks calculated to kindle the mind. In treating of the iron manufacture,—a rather hard subject, it would seem,—we are told that, every "working day, fifty millions of nails are made, bought, sold, and used in the United States;" and, in speaking of the manufacture of cotton, we are informed that the Merrimack mills of Lowell alone "spin a thread of sufficient length to belt the world, at the equator, in two hours."

The work was doubtless intended for the young; and we think it quite equal, for this object, to any thing that has been produced; yet it is also suited to the perusal of all classes, especially to men of business, who find little leisure for reading, and who yet are unwilling to be left behind in the great march of knowledge and improvement. As there is now a strong desire, especially among the enlightened friends of education in this state, to have the common schools supplied with suitable books for libraries, we heartily commend this series to the notice of all who are desirous of obtaining books for this object. They are unquestionably among the best that have been prepared for school libraries, being every way attractive and instructive.

No one can fail to be pleased with the simplicity and elegance of the style, and with the vein of cheerfulness, humanity, and morality, which runs through the pages of the volumes. The moral influence of the work, especially upon the young, cannot fail to be in the highest degree effective and salutary.

They are written in an easy and graceful style, and are compiled from the most authentic sources. They will be found highly attractive to young people of both sexes, and worthy to be read by persons of mature age.

It would be difficult to find any where, in such convenient compass, so much healthy and palatable food for the youthful mind as is furnished by Parley's Cabinet Library.

We know of no series of volumes on kindred subjects so good as these for parents to put into the hands of their children. It is due not only to the author, who has rendered great service to the cause of American literature, but to the work itself, and to the best interests of the youth of our nation, that these volumes should be scattered all over the land.

The very best work of its class is Parley's Cabinet Library. It combines a vast deal of useful information, conveyed in an exceedingly interesting style. The beauty of the typographical execution, the cheapness of the volumes, and the great intrinsic merit of their contents, must render the work one of general popularity.

As we have quoted so largely from Mr. Goodrich's work, we ought to say—what it richly merits—that it is a pleasing and useful series, and that it is calculated not only to instruct and amuse, but to cultivate virtuous and patriotic sentiments. With those who read for mere amusement, it is worthy of attention, for the author has ingeniously contrived to give truth all the charms of fiction.

The volumes are illustrated with spirited wood engravings, and printed in Dickinson's neatest style. Altogether, they present decidedly the most attractive appearance as to matter and form, of any works we have seen for a long time.

Parley's Cabinet Library is a publication of rare excellence. No writer of the present day invests the themes of which he treats with livelier interest than the well-known Peter Parley. His pen imparts to history and biography the charm of romance; while, at the same time, it unfolds rich and enduring treasures of practical and useful knowledge.

The animal, the mineral, and vegetable kingdoms of nature present, beneath his pencil, the attractions of a grand museum. The publication of his Cabinet Library will accomplish much, in our opinion, to eradicate the eagerness for fiction which engrosses so extensively the public mind. The perusal of these volumes will convince the reader that reality has charms as potent, and far more satisfying than those of the ideal world. We know of no work, comprehended within equal limits, capable of affording richer intellectual banqueting.

We deem it but a discharge of our duty to our readers, to urge this valuable series upon their attention. The whole series will cost but a trifle, yet they may and doubtless will be the deciding means of insuring success in life to many a youth who shall enjoy the means of reading them.

They are written in a pleasing style, and are enlivened by numerous characteristic anecdotes. The series will form a very valuable library.

It is an admirable publication for the family and school library. Its topics are interesting and important, and presented in a simple but effective style.

Parley's Cabinet Library is worthy of all encouragement. It is cheap not only in promise, but in fact. It is also calculated to exercise a wholesome influence. Like every thing from the same author, it strongly inculcates virtue and religion, and at the same time it arrays truth in a guise so comely and attractive, that it is likely to win many votaries of fiction to companionship with it. There is great need of such works at this time.

Whereas, the Board of Education have examined a series of books called "Parley's Cabinet Library," now in course of publication by Samuel G. Goodrich, Esq., (the celebrated Peter Parley,) embracing, in the course of twenty volumes, the various subjects of history, biography, geography, the manners and customs of different nations, the condition of the arts, sciences, &c.; and whereas, this Board are satisfied that the same are highly useful to the young: therefore,

Resolved, that we recommend that the same be procured by trustees for the several school libraries, at the earliest practicable period. A true copy of the minutes,

	PAGE
General Classification,	9
VERTEBRATA,	10
CLASS MAMMALIA,	10
Order I.—Bimana,	11
Man,	11
Order II.—Quadrumana,	13
Apes,	14
Orang-Outang,	14
Chimpansé,	22
Gibbon,	23
Baboon,	25
Monkeys,	38
Order III.—Carnaria,	45
Bats,	45
Hedgehog,	47
Mole,	49
Bear,	50
White Bear,	68
Raccoon,	74
Coati,	76
Badger,	76
Glutton,	78
Weasel,	79
Polecat,	85
Ferret,	86
Mink,	86
Marten,	87
Sable,	87
Skunk,	88
Otter,	90
Dog,	92
Wolf,	113
Fox,	118
Hyena,	120
Lion,	122
Tiger,	129
Panther,	132
Leopard,	134
Jaguar,	136
American Panther,	144
Cat,	151
Order IV.—Amphibia,	162
Seal,	162
Walrus,	164
Order V.—Marsupiala,	165
Opossum,	165
Kangaroo,	166
Order VI.—Rodentia,	169
Squirrel,	169
Mouse,	172
Dormouse,	174
Rat,	174
Beaver,	176
Porcupine,	179
Hare,	180
Order VII.—Edentata,	184
Sloth,	184
Platypus,	186
Order VIII.—Pachydermata,	188
Elephant,	188
Hippopotamus,	199
Rhinoceros,	200
Wild Boar,	203
Domestic Hog,	205
Tapir,	208
Horse,	209
Pony,	222
Ass,	224
Zebra,	227
Order IX.—Ruminantia,	229
Camel,	229
Deer,	232
Moose,	233
American Elk,	233
Red Deer,	233
Virginia Deer,	235
Reindeer,	236
Giraffe,	238
Goat,	240
Sheep,	242
Ox,	246
Bison,	249
Order X.—Cetacea,	251
Dolphin,	251
Grampus,	252
Porpoise,	253
Whale,	254
CLASS II.—AVES,	256
Order I.—Accipitres,	257
Vultures,	257
Condor,	257
Turkey Buzzard,	258
Carrion Crow,	258
Hawk,	259
Peregrine Falcon,	259
Kestrel,	260
Sparrow Hawk,	261
Buzzard,	261
Eagle,	262
Owl,	265
Order II.—Passerinæ,	267
Shrike,	268
King-Bird,	268
Cedar-Bird,	269
Scarlet Tanager,	269
Mocking-Bird,	270
Baltimore Oriole,	272
Wren,	273
Purple Martin,	274
Swallow,	275
Skylark,	276
Titmouse,	277
Canary-Bird,	277
Bulfinch,	280
Sparrow,	281
Crow,	281
Raven,	283
Magpie,	284
Humming-Bird,	286
Blue Jay,	287
Order III.—Scansoriæ,	288
Cuckoo,	288
Red-headed Woodpecker,	289
Ivory-billed Woodpecker,	289
Parrot,	290
Order IV.—Gallinacea,	293
Cock,	293
Pheasant,	294
Ruffed Grouse,	295
Pigeon,	296
Passenger Pigeon,	296
Musical Pigeon,	297
Carrier Pigeon,	297
Order V.—Stilted Birds,	298
Adjutant,	298
Stork,	299
Heron,	300
Flamingo,	300
Order VI.—Palmipedes,	301
Gull,	301
Cormorant,	303
Swan,	303
Goose,	304
CLASS III.—REPTILIA,	305
Order I.—Chelonia,	305
Tortoise,	305
Order II.—Sauria,	306
Crocodile,	306
Alligator,	307
Salamander,	308
Order III.—Ophidia,	309
Serpents,	309
Order IV.—Batrachia,	311
Frog,	311
Toad,	312
CLASS IV.—PISCES,	313
Mackerel,	313
Sword-fish,	314
Pike,	314
Golden Carp,	316
Salmon,	316
Herring,	317
Shark,	317
INVERTEBRATA,	318
CLASS I.—MOLLUSCA,	318
Squid,	318
Nautilus,	320
Snail,	320
Oyster,	321
Scallop,	322
CLASS II.—ARTICULATA,	322
Leech,	322
Crab,	323
Spider,	324
Scorpion,	325
Death-watch,	325
Glowworm,	326
Fire-fly,	326
Beetle,	326
Earwig,	328
Cricket,	329
Locust,	330
Ant,	330
Caterpillar,	332
Butterfly,	332
Moth,	332
Silkworm,	333
Flies,	334
CLASS III.—RADIATA,	334
Polypi,	335

First Grand Division, VERTEBRATA, or back boned animals, having a bony skeleton, and including four classes.

Class	I.	Mammalia, or sucking animals; as, man; bats, monkeys, bears, oxen, sheep, deer, and many other four-footed beasts; as well as seals, walruses, whales, &c.
"	II.	Aves, birds of all kinds.
"	III.	Reptilia, or reptiles; as, lizards, frogs, serpents, toads, &c.
"	IV.	Pisces, fishes generally.

Second Grand Division, INVERTEBRATA, or animals without a bony spine, or a bony skeleton, and including three classes.

Class	I.	Mollusca, embracing pulpy animals mostly enclosed in shells; as, the nautilus, oyster, clam, cuttle-fish, &c.
"	II.	Articulata, or jointed animals; as, crabs, lobsters, spiders, insects, leeches, earthworms, &c.
"	III.	Radiata, branched or radiated animals; as, the star-fish, tape-worm, coral insect, sea anemone, &c.

ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES

OF THE

ANIMAL KINGDOM:

BY THE AUTHOR OF

PETER PARLEY'S TALES.

BOSTON:
PUBLISHED BY RAND AND MANN,
No. 3 Cornhill.
1849.

PRESS OF GEORGE C. RAND & CO.

Board of Education,	}
City of Rochester, Sept. 2.